Manaphy, I liked it!
This is the absolute first poem I wrote... and the only one to actually be published through my school. It has the best rhyme scheme of all my poems, I think, but my wording is a trifle off. It's still a fun poem either way, and is essentially an ode to Lewis Carrol (one of three Carrol Odes I've written). It's a bit longer, so beware. It's called...
The Tragic Tale of Bob the Fly
The air was crisp, the sun was hot,
The rays beat down with glee.
And Bob the fly did scarcely know
How happy he could be.
Because his mother would not let
Him be completely free.
But one fine day Bob was quite sure
He'd get his mother fine.
And Bob was right, to some extent:
His mother had a sign.
"Don't go to the spider Simon,
He sits there by the pine!"
"If you were to go ask his name,"
His mother did define,
"He'd eat you up in half a sec!
He'd find your taste divine!"
And as Bob traveled out the door,
He thought his mom malign.
Bob was blissful to be aweigh,
He flew atop the skies!
He was amazed to see, today,
All of the friendly flies!
And he could not sit still at all,
Despite his eager tries.
He came to a breach in the road,
And he could barely see
The pine hidden so very well
Through all the dark debris.
And this was when his sight was lost
And some voice came to be.
"Come here, my friend, it is so nice
To see a brand new face!
Come here, and we will talk a bit,
A tryst we shall embrace!
Are you hungry? I'm just to eat!
Come here, there's too much space!"
Bob the fly had just left his home
With not a bite to eat.
He was touched to find a stranger
Would give him such a treat.
So Bob flew down into the pine
As not to show conceit.
He found his way into the dark,
And followed that sweet voice
Urging him ever deeper down,
As if he had no choice.
And when attacked, Bob saw his fault,
But Simon did rejoice.
"Do not eat me!" Bob did beseech,
And Simon said with joy:
"Don't fear, young fly, don't think this as
Another trick of Troy!"
And with that said, Bob did relax,
Certain it not a ploy.
"I told you so!" Simon did say,
Throwing down his fork.
Bob was lying in front of him,
With not a sign of torque.
And Simon could not help but think:
Bob tasted just like pork.