Poems by Mark Shuck

 

 

“…………..Sir Eric surveyed his landed acres

His gardens and other places

And noted with pride his flowers and veg

Grown in these open spaces

 

Yet something stirred in Sir Eric’s breast

Something was not right

He searched his mind for what it was

Might lead him to the light

 

Of a sudden he heard a young girl sing

Away off in the distance

And to his memory her song

Provided much assistance

 

For Sir Eric knew just what he missed

And what was clearly wrong

His gardens lacked the noble sound

Of lovely avian song.

 

He called his serfs together

“Men” he cried “soon as you’re able”

Build for me just over there

The best ever bird table

 

The table built was in a place

Known as the Fortunes Temple

And soon birds of every kind

Came by the food to sample

 

He placed there bacon rind and nuts

A cuttle fish to bite on

And let no human close to it

Lest they the birds should frighten

 

The nuts went quickly as you’d expect

The bacon rind went less so

For there the birds were orthodox

Indeed, and would confess so

 

Yet in the wood nearby that place

Where grew the Trees of Cherry

Something stirred as creatures heard

Of Sir Eric’s birds so merry

 

So ‘gainst this Eden’s great delight

A plot was hatched together

To raid the birdy table soon

Whatever was the weather

 

Who were these plotters you might ask

Who would betray Sir Eric

And bring to bliss the serpent’s hiss

And drive poor birds hysteric?

 

Twas SQUIRRELS, yea, the blight it was

A family, ‘bout a dozen

Along with siblings, uncles, aunts

And many - oh many-  a cousin

 

They on the twelfth day of July

First raided Fortunes Temple

And got away with nutty loot,

And bacon rind so ample

 

And to their lair, they did repair

This stolen hoard to feast

And any sense of guilt or doubt

They suffered not the least

 

When Sir Eric saw the table bare

His heart was so much troubled

That in his mind, though not unkind

A sense of vengeance bubbled

 

He vowed the squirrels to repel

By all means as were available

And to his birds restore sole rights

To feast at their own table

 

And so began a game of wits

To see who would prevail

And who would win, could anything

The squirrel raids curtail?

 

Yet each device Sir Eric tried

Was totally ineffective

The squirrels just bit through each part

Of deterrents defective

 

One morning quite demoralised

And on point of surrender

Sir Eric, wondered how much longer he

Could be the birds’ defender

 

A soldier he, who’d beaten foes

Cunning, daring, human

Had failed to match his wits against

This squirrely acumen

 

Just then Sir Eric recalled a source

The “Oracle Amazonian”

Where one found stuff that otherwise

Took efforts quite draconian

 

He searched th’ oracle every space

Both Amazon and “Marketplace”

Until he found that which he sought and

Having found it, duly bought

 

This new equipment worked a treat

The squirrels it did quite defeat

Through its material they could not bite

Which gave Sir Eric great delight

 

The birds returned and fed each day

The squirrels quite down hearted

Packed up their nuts and from the woods

Quite rapidly departed

 

Of them indeed I hear that

They are now wholly relocated

To Finches Lea where the pickings are thin

Their appetites go unsated.”

http://treesrockandwater.blogspot.comPoems and articles by Mark Shuck