The Moa

800px-Moa1

“Improved” photo by Kirith Kodachi (click for link)

Sometimes poetry is all about how you feel.  Had the poetry contest been held this week, this would have been the winner.

The Moa
Moa! Moa! burning fugly
In the vacuum of the night
What “artist’s” hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful asymmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the depravity of thine lines?
On what wing…?  suitcase…?  spire?
What the hand dare shatter the hull?

And what shoulder(?) and what “art”,
Could twist the sinews of thy shape?
And when thy hull began to creak,
What dread tail?  and what dread neck?

What the duece?  what the hell?
In what fever was thy brain?
What the suitcase?  what dread whatever that is in your grasp
Dare its fugly visage show?

When the designer threw down his stylus,
And watered EVE with his drooling spittle,
Did he LOL his work to see?
Did he who made the Ishtar make thee?

Moa! Moa! burning fugly
In the vacuum of the night,
What “artist’s” hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful asymmetry?

– an adaptation of William Blake’s “The Tiger” by Eve player stoicfaux.  This poem was one of the bonus prize winners in the PLEX for Parody contest.

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