The Spoonbill Generator

Like the Inner Feathers of Earth

How frothy do these suds appear [Francine]

They fill up all the belvedere [Nym]

They overflow the Amazon [Francine]

The brown folks flee--and soon they're gone [Kansas Sam]

How fluffy do these pillows seem [Nym]

Like feathers or a young girl's dream [Francine]

Like clouds of endless candy floss [Nym]

Or lushest swaths of spanish moss [Francine]

How stringy is this green spaghetti [Nym]

We drew it from the nose of Yeti [Kansas Sam]

And so they break the golden chain [Francine]

While singing loud this quaint refrain: [Nym]

Aloo, alla, my sudsy bear [Francine]

If only we could brew thee here [Kansas Sam]

Distilleries and wineries [Nym]

Decolletage and fineries [Francine]

They're just the stuff of myths and sagas [Nym]

And yet, somehow, they serve to drag us [Francine]

Through the aeons, right to this day [Nym]

Like packages on Santa's sleigh [Kansas Sam]

Contributors: Francine, Nym, Kansas Sam.
Poem finished: 17th July 2003.