Llama Poetry

I’ve recently (I am really late to this particular party) realized there are A LOT of people writing and self-publishing poetry out there. Some of it is really good. (some of it… I don’t understand, but wandering around scowling and confused is not that unusual for me)

I’ve also just finished Legends of the Samurai by Hiroaki Sato. The samurai class appreciated the duality of being both martial and cerebral and spent as much time contemplating verse as they did practicing their sword form. And while I am neither particularly martial, or particularly cerebral… I thought I would give it a go anyway…

1200px-Llama_lying_down.jpg

There once was a man from Peru.
Who owned several pairs of shoes…
And a habitually angry Llama.
Yes, that too.
The thing was a beast! 
It wasn’t that bad…
IT TOOK THREE OF MY FINGERS YOU MISERABLE LAD.
A finger and thumb are all that remain, of that chance encounter in the pen that day.
Oh Ned won’t you please, relate for me that tale, of you and that Llama, on that fateful May day.
Well… The Russians were marching… of that I am sure…
And I heeded not the warnings of local (and ancient) lore
I reached out to pat it… But little did I know, the thing was of violent temperament…
And I was a little slow.
It lashed out… quick as a flash… and that… as they say, was that.
Oh I howled and I cried for all that it helped…
My fingers it swallowed with a smile and a belch. 
So should you ever go down to the pens one day…
Remember old Ned… and turn the other way.

 

Not exactly Robert Frost with his divergent thoroughfares…  but I’ve giving myself a gold star on my forehead for effort. Yay me!

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