Friday Poem
© 4 Nov 2011 Luther Tychonievich
Licensed under Creative Commons: CC BY-NC-ND 3.0
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Friday Poem

Violently saving the environment.


Untitled Poem

A tiny man with large red feet
Is strolling slowly down to meet
A chubby man with frost-grey hair.
He passes signs which read “‍beware‍”—
Though ware of what it does not say.
It doesn’t seem a place to play;
But he, though small, is no wee sprout
And playing’s not what he’s about.
The chubby man’s beside him now
And words are uttered about how
The local politics should go
And this year’s likelihood of snow.
It seems just idle chat at first
But then it changes for the worst.
The grizzled says “‍It’s hard to kill.‍”
The big-feet adds “‍Yet kill we will.‍”
They rip two branches from the trees
And strip them down as each may please
Until, with cudgels in their grip,
They stalk down to a mighty ship
That’s idling beside the shore.
They raise their clubs, prepared to smash
Yet pause before they act so rash.
“‍You’re sure you can’t just turn it off?‍”
The fat man gives a nervous cough.
“‍I broke the off-switch‍” he explains
“‍And this exhaust will bring lung pains.‍”
The small man shrugs. “‍Then target here
To kill the engine. Do not fear;
It won’t explode unless we miss.‍”
“‍I’m sad it has to come to this‍”
Replies the other, then both strike.
The engine sputters, asthma-like
And then it dies, and all is still.
The two are sad they had to kill
The engine in that brutish way
But glad exhaust will not long stay.
A fresher breeze begins to blow,
The trees all sigh and start to grow.
The tiny man now strolls away;
He once again has saved the day!

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