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There’s a….,



….crow, staring down from the chimney pot.

He's either looking directly at me or not.

His feathers are all of a ruffle.

Like he's been in some Birdland scuffle,

with a similar face to Anwar Sadat.


….cat on the wall, with one eye crossed.

He's not from these parts, most definitely lost,

He tried but missed a wide-open gate.

I'm not surprised, as he can't see straight.

He needs to get home, whatever the cost.


….dog on the green with a fearsome grin.

Should I be scared? Should I go back in?

Although he doesn't know where I'm living,

It won't be long before that nose starts sniffing.

Smelling fear from this hideout within.


….swan on the lake that's flapping his wings.

hissing and hissing at all manner of things,

Sailboats, rowing boats, and fine pond yachts,

Ladies in striped dresses and those wearing dots,

A young boy fishing with homemade rod and string.


….bull in the field with a ring through its nose.

When I first saw him there, my feet just froze.

I wanted to run, but fear held me still.

If the bull charges, it will certainly kill.

Why it didn't trample me? Nobody knows.


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Young man. E. A. Blair. Literary genius An uncommon flair. Each page, inspired, His soul laid bare, Dystopia pondered From his polished wooden chair. He wrote of men Who lived without a prayer, P.S. B

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