Now it came to pass before the bird was born,
Twas the bird of Alian, a baby forlorn
He was a normal little child, or so goes the fable,
That is—until mommy left him on the kitchen table
If she would have only known what would happen, she would have been wary,
For such an instance would be quite a-scary!
Such things may change in the life shall he tread,
Because of his past, when table met head
MONTAGE MELTDOWN
Giant killer bird in death struggle with freak girl-flower.
Bird combs child’s hair, child smoothes bird feather.
Concrete bird-statue being pushed over by tot-vandal pest.
Awarded last place in Tidy Garden Contest .
Child and her pet swallowed by garden weeds.
Legless girl clutches bird for balance needs.
Leg-eating flowers attack girl, leave bird intact.
Day Of The Triffids, but with droopy daisies in fact.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . .
NOTE
These lines are in the style of newspaper headlines, all possible
interpretations of the montage.
I started with a canary,
A happy little fellow
Who loved to sing and chirp at me.
He really was quite mellow.
Then I joined a bird club
To learn more about his care.
I found that owners of only one bird
Were, apparently, something rare.
Then our club held a spring auction,
All the birds there were so nice.
When no one else would start the bid
My hand shot up, once or twice.
I didn't see how anyone
Could not bid on such lovely birds.
Next thing you know I've aquired nine,
Now one bird had become herds.
My spare bedroom has no bed now.
There just wasn't room for it.
The three large bird cages I have
Make it quite a tight fit.
So what was once a single bird
Is now a menagerie.
I have a large cage for each breed,
Canary, finch and budgie.
There's another auction coming soon
And I hate to think I must go
Because though I don't intend to buy more
I probably will, you know.
In the long grass on the island of Toomer , lives a great big bird called the oomer boomer.
Now this bird is not like any partridge or pheasant, on the whole the boomer is really quite
pleasant. It’s beak is quite long, and it’s wings are quite tiny, and his claws are long and all
skinny and spiny.
But the weirdest thing about this bird, is a noise like something you’ve never heard. For as
the sun rises into the sky, the bird awakes and gives a big sigh.
Then the oomer positions itself on a ledge, with its bum pointing upwards, and its head in the
hedge.
Then it takes a deep breath before it starts, and proceeds to let out a massive great fart.
The fallout from this is felt all over toomer, thank goodness that there’s only one oomer
boomer.
I saw a big bird today at a local zoo.
Its habitat is akin to that of a kangaroo.
It was glaring at all as if to say,
"Okay! I saw all, now go away!"
Its digits can agonizingly kick,
As if hit by a ton of brick!
It is not a darling bird at all,
And I cannot stand its blaring call!
I know nothing of its ornithological stock.
I do know it's too big to fry in an Asian wok!
I was at a loss as I stood stroking jaw.
Was it an ostrich or a cassowary that I saw?
I can't think of anything worthy for that bird to say,
So I shall lay down ballpoint and call it a day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
First Place In Nikko Palmario's "Without U & ME" Contest' - July 2010
PS: This was a contest where the use of the letters E, M & U was prohibited.
The bird I spoke of was the EMU!
I shoots the birds what lands upon my garden
An’ I shoots the birds what lands upon my shed
I’m a strapping lad and people says an ‘ard un
But I never shoots a bird what’s on my ‘ead
I did it once when I were young and reckless
I shoots this bird what landed on my nut
The blood and guts and feathers made a real mess
So now I ‘its ‘em with my rifle butt
Now if you’re out and pigeons you are popping
And one lands on your bonce you must be quick
It’ll do no good a frettin’ and a ‘opping
Just hit the little bugger with a stick
I gaze above from my grassy station
While lying on my back, the cumuli
Traversed the sky in noiseless slow-motion.
Great day! I thought while fixed upon the sky.
Then casually a bird flew overhead
And dropped its cargo off all over me.
In life a little rain must fall, instead
A bird brain passed its bowel of feces.
What does one say after being pooped on?
C’est La vie! What else can happen to me?
I’ve been a target of defecation
If I’d a gun that bombardier be shot.
I’m not that feathered class aves port-a-pot.
(This is a fictional poem)
Sonny the Cuckoo bird ate all of my cocoa puffs.
When I saw that the box was empty, I got rough.
He said he ate it because he loved that cocoa crunch.
I killed that damn bird and then I had him for lunch.
He'd been arrested for eating other people's cereal, he was a con.
I stuck my shotgun up that bird's butt and his ass was gone.
Some people say that shooting him was hasty.
Maybe so but that damn bird sure was tasty