The Middle OneA Poem by EllenI wrote this under assignment for my English class; it's one of the first pieces I've ever written in the poetic genre, so I'm not sure how I feel about it, but here goes.The Middle One You want my
advice? Never mess
with geese. Battleship
noise-machines, With
nose-hungry beaks and wings the size of Jupiter. Before they
decide that what your lawn really needs is goose s**t, That’s when
they’re cute. Chipper
sunshine yellow, fading too fast to neon gray. I was
bedside-There’s five and eight! I watched
with pond-dipped toes, until I got it- “Don’t stay
so close-they’re gonna drown.” I guess I
couldn’t swim at 3 days either. Inadvertent,
attempted, murder. Do I go to jail for that? Gosling
napping? Yeah, that wouldn’t fly Mother Goose
would send me to time out. Nasty things but
never finished Pre-K, can’t even count-now six and seven! I tried to
reason with him, reverse the mutiny, But maybe he
just likes that gaggle better, This is
identity crisis-goose style. Or, Maybe he, whichever
one “he” is, Like me,
can’t tell the difference. © 2010 EllenAuthor's Note
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