Array ( [sid] => 104828 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Ode to Seasons [time] => 2005-09-01 08:11:59 [hometext] => It's the first day of Spring in the land Downunder (I love talking this way to people who don't live here!). Here is my trilogy of seasonal poems to complete the long overdue quartet. [bodytext] => Ode to Spring
Spring is sprung,
Duh grass is riz;
I wonder where dem boidies is?
Dey say duh boid is on duh wing:
But dat’s absoid!
Duh wing is on duh boid!
(origin disputed)




Ode to Summer
Summer sizzles,
The grass is dead;
The flowers are wilting in their beds
The little bird can barely sing,
The heat has taken it off the wing
What despair,
The birdies can’t even ride the air!




Ode to Autumn
Autumn’s here
In golden glory
How appalling!
All the little birds are falling;
Tumbling down from the sky
Like dying leaves from trees on high
- I’ll get the rake.



Ode to Winter
The cold has come,
My nose is red;
I should have stayed in my warm bed
The little bird thought all those feathers
Would warm him in inclement weathers?
As if,
The poor boidy is frozen stiff! [comments] => 2 [counter] => 155 [topic] => 7 [informant] => spike [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 45 [ratings] => 9 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => HumorPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Ode to Seasons


Ode to Seasons
Date: Thursday, 1st September 2005 @ 08:11:59 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: spike
Ode to Spring
Spring is sprung,
Duh grass is riz;
I wonder where dem boidies is?
Dey say duh boid is on duh wing:
But dat’s absoid!
Duh wing is on duh boid!
(origin disputed)




Ode to Summer
Summer sizzles,
The grass is dead;
The flowers are wilting in their beds
The little bird can barely sing,
The heat has taken it off the wing
What despair,
The birdies can’t even ride the air!




Ode to Autumn
Autumn’s here
In golden glory
How appalling!
All the little birds are falling;
Tumbling down from the sky
Like dying leaves from trees on high
- I’ll get the rake.



Ode to Winter
The cold has come,
My nose is red;
I should have stayed in my warm bed
The little bird thought all those feathers
Would warm him in inclement weathers?
As if,
The poor boidy is frozen stiff!

This poem is Copyright © spike


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