2007-03-31
Magpie #1 by Beowulf Mayfield
Magpies are the
park bench drunks
of the bird kingdom;
They hang about all day,
screech at each other
and everyone else.
Nothing to do,
nowhere else to go.
They feed from rubbish bins;
the mangled remains of Saturday's
discarded donner
is their idea of a Sunday roast.
They steal
for the sake of it;
a piece of foil,
a priceless diamond,
they're not really bothered,
so long as it sparkles.
Their nests must be
boudoirs of bling.
there's no denying it... the nickname strangely suits me when described in this poem.
take out that middle bit and it's about me exactly.
sequindaisy at 4:05 p.m.