The Spoonbill Generator


Three smooth stones near water's edge, gray as everyday [Francine]

Were chosen by the Master Skipper, twelve bounces was his prey [Evan]

Alas they plopped; they failed to skip [Francine]

Cold water splashed his knee [archaeopteryx]

And as he fell he broke his hip [Evan]

Cursing as he fell, was he. [Karin]

Cried he, "I'll never skip again!" [Evan]

As gray stones slowly sank [archaeopteryx]

This is the fate awaiting men [Karin]

Whose skipping draws a blank [Kansas Sam]

Contributors: Francine, Evan, archaeopteryx, Karin, Kansas Sam.
Poem finished: 17th July 2003.