The Island

Mortimer Soul, oft. considered too droll

Oft Had his discharge too large for the bowl

And when t’wouldn’t slip through the hole

He’d be faced with flood control

 

Dealing with all this became such a rigmarole

He eventually purchased a little dandy backhoe

Then, he being careful not to take a sniff

Just dumped everything off a cliff

 

There was where, with other hordes of debris

‘His solution’ drifted far out to sea

Floating out to a spot called ‘The Tombstone’

Where jammed together, garbage is growin

 

Initially, just the size of a small barge

But was to become a continent of obtuse discharge

Which in time began to uncontrollably ferment

Creating a gaspmosphere of seriously sent scent                          

 

Soon ships were forced to circumvent

To an expanding extent, this excessive event

Until, on instructions from the president

“Sink it by using a tona real heavy cement!”

 

But it kept on growing, creatin an aquatic jam

Even overwhelming many unfortunate frogman

For all this polution, earthman has no gameplan

It’s just one more, human created, boogeyman

 

 

Reviews

[Puppygirl]

I love the rhyme and the rythm abd words of this poem!! Way to go!!

[Dave Brown]

Thanks for taking the time to leave comment
The sorry thing here is that it is based on fact!
That island of floating garbage does exist