Anvil in a Lace Bootie

Homecoming in Venice

These are pleasant as a pheasant groping

through the trash bin looking for her fancy.

These are pleasant as a pheasant hoping

to land a metric ton or two or three.

-

Silly is the pheasant in her kitchen

making up a song about a muffin.

Silly is the creaminess she’s rich in.

Oily butter proves she is not bluffin’.

-

Happy glides the pheasant to her lover,

gilded head to horns with bales of barley.

Happy hides the pheasant under cover

planting kisses on her demon Harley.

-

The pheasant was a goodly beast of yore

and stalked down halls to still the mighty roar.

Filed under:
Loon Poetry by Doc