Saturday October 12th, 2013

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: the turkey.

It was a pretty good market today, as we didn't bring too much back home. We didn't bring a huge amount of produce to begin with, but at least we sold most of what we did have. Only two markets left to go!

We had our turkey dinner at Kat's parents this evening, as her aunt and uncle are leaving tomorrow afternoon. My sister and her husband are with us for another night though, so Max will still have lots of extra attention around here.


He's strolling through the lush meadow,
Thinking security is pretty lax;
Then he sees the farmer coming,
And asks himself: Why's he got that axe?


Greg said...

I think, from what you've written so far, that this would be Max's first Thanksgiving dinner – did he enjoy it?
Heh, that's a funny little poem today! A thought about it though – do you need the "himself" in the last line? It doesn't quite seem to fit the metre to me, and I think it's clear from the poem already that it's the turkey thinking.

The turkey
The turkey hid where the cranberries grow,
and then she hid in the sage.
Then she hid in the vegetable patch,
unaware of the irony made.

Marc said...

Greg - it was indeed. Turns out? He friggin' loves turkey. I'm surprised he's not crawling around gobbling at this point.

Ugh, the 'himself' should totally go. I couldn't figure out why it wasn't flowing the way I wanted it to... so thanks for that.

Love yours. So much. Can just imagine the clueless turkey wandering around :D