This afternoon, I took a look around my (rather sizable) backyard, and observed some construction going on in my neighbor’s backyard. I hadn’t noticed this before. Right now, it just looks like a wooden frame with wood boards covering the 4x4’s. I expect it’s either an addition to their house, or the largest backyard fort ever made, or a garden shed, or ...
I’m really not sure exactly what it is; thus, the worst poetry ever was born.
What If: a Very Bad Poem
I’m really not sure exactly what it is; thus, the worst poetry ever was born.
What If: a Very Bad Poem
My neighbors are building a building next door.
I don’t know what it is; not sure what it’s for.
I could sit here all day and just feel stiff,
So I’m going to play a game of What If.
What if they’re aliens, from Centauri Nom;
They’re building a spaceship to help them get home.
What if it’s a temple to Quetzalcoatl;
A barnyard, a silo, a Taj Mahal model.
What if it’s a coop for a guinea pig farm?
Or maybe they’re building a giant left arm.
It’s likely a shed, but that’s just too boring.
I’ll make it something intriguing, exploring
The outermost reaches of creativity,
Defending my mind from captivity.
I’m done; my poetry was rather profuse,
And now I am done acting as Dr. Seuss.
I don’t know what it is; not sure what it’s for.
I could sit here all day and just feel stiff,
So I’m going to play a game of What If.
What if they’re aliens, from Centauri Nom;
They’re building a spaceship to help them get home.
What if it’s a temple to Quetzalcoatl;
A barnyard, a silo, a Taj Mahal model.
What if it’s a coop for a guinea pig farm?
Or maybe they’re building a giant left arm.
It’s likely a shed, but that’s just too boring.
I’ll make it something intriguing, exploring
The outermost reaches of creativity,
Defending my mind from captivity.
I’m done; my poetry was rather profuse,
And now I am done acting as Dr. Seuss.