I realise that I am unable to write proper poetry; that is, poetry displaying rhyme and rhythm.
I wish I could write like this.
The Ballad Of The Turkey
© G Yates
Published on February 2006
As I walked along the road one day
Kicking up stones along the way,
I saw a bird of unusual size
Who had a large beak and small, beady eyes.
He strutted about and ruffled his wings
Then he did the most ominous thing.
He let out a screech and puffed out his chest
I wanted to run from this evil pest.
As this bird’s mighty exterior did appear
The inside of my chest was filled with fear.
He put one talon forward, the other one next
This troublesome bird was making me vexed.
I then did something that was a great chance.
I kicked a stone at him to stop his advance.
He then chased the stone, oh joy of great joys!
I felt myself one of the luckiest boys!
Around the corner I ran, straight to my home,
Leaving that bird confused and alone.
Don’t befriend a turkey (for that’s what he was)
Or he will attack you simply because.