The Spoonbill Generator

Orderly Insects Are Forecast

Small birds

Borrow my drum

For purposes unknown to some

Perhaps the birdy ritual beats,

At their spiritual retreats

Large ants

Follow my trail

Their purposes, I trust, shall fail

Unless they're lost and follow me

wandering insects prevail.

Grim sharks

Dog barks...

My purpose is, I trust, opaque

And mystifies those still awake

To track the dreaming whale

Dead fish

In whose gleaming scales I trace reflections of a life

You wish!

Fierce dogs

Pursue my aunts

Their purposes undamped by "can'ts"

Perhaps their sense of smell's so strong

They can't go wrong

Rogue cats

Pilloried live

They're "purr-pussies", fresh from the hive

Perhaps their sense of fair and foul

Would dupe an owl?

Old yaks

Search for green backs,

My porpoises are trussed secure

Perhaps they know the long-sought cure

Yak one needle track.

Pearl won

rolled towards the sun,

This poem's done.

Contributors: P, Roland, Stacy, KD, M. Forsyth, Lucretia, TG, Loaf.
Poem finished: 22nd March 1997.