The Spoonbill Generator

The Eagle Fallen

Octopus, the raven-haired

Eagle, who had dared to soar

Over lakes of pudding deep,

Like Icarus, the fatal bird

Who heard the sun's tempestuous roar

And knew, too soon, the price of fish

Would cause a costly fishy itch,

For souls who shake the autumn air

Awoke, and with her waking breath

Denied the triumph of the night

And disappeared from sight.

Arbalest, the ever true

Dart, cranked to steel-spanned pitch

Blacker than the nightmare's heart

And spinning in the outer worlds

A fen-sucked youngish boy in curls,

Who knew the bottom of th'abyss

Would soon engulf the troubled fiends

A saucy troupe to moan and piss.

Misery, the cheerest soul

Oswald found the grassy knoll,

Where Ermintrude reclined

Awash in sun-drenched reverie

He blew the pressies head away.

The Kennedys are all but gone,

(Save ruddy Ted, the bloated lush!)

He's hid the rum beneath the bush!

He's driven hard to bridge the gap

We can't warn Mary Jo, perhaps...

Contributors: P, TG, Stacy, Anon., Bop, KD, jp.
Poem finished: 28th May 1997.