I sat all day in the blinds in the marsh, <br />trying to trap a poem. <br />I set my traps in the deep woods. <br />I dug a hole in the ice, <br />but the poems weren't biting. <br /> <br />The poems were too smart for me, <br />they were onto my ways. <br />They'd gotten my scent <br />and stayed away. <br /> <br />I was getting hungry, <br />starving for poems. <br />I was wasting away. <br /> <br />FEMA never brought me any poems. <br />The government never air-dropped <br />any Poems-Ready-To-Go. <br /> <br />At last, a small poem came by, <br />but it wasn't much, <br />it didn't have much meat. <br /> <br />I'm starting to think <br />these regions are all poemed out. <br />I need to head for a wilder place.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poem-hunter/
