I Built an Ark

If I did build an ark, these two would be the first on board. Pretty Girl (l) and Melody (r). Yes, Melody is the “granddogger” that I referred to in “A Dog’s Life”. And Pretty Girl is a spoiled, self-centered, well, she’s a cat.

    So, how about a little animal humor to start the week? It’ kind of long, so sip your coffee.

I Built an Ark

 The grey skies, they stayed,

for countless of days,

refusing, to relinquish, their space.

And the sun went away,

on vacation, they say,

and left us, with clouds, in it’s place.

 

While the sun, shined on through,

to warm, waters of blue,

the water here, dropped in, from the sky.

Oh, yes it dropped, and it dropped,

thought it never, would stop,

and the wood, for an ark, I might buy.

 

But on, the twelfth day,

the clouds, went away,

and revealed, a sky, colored blue.

Then for twenty-four hours,

clear skies, they were ours,

’til the next day, when the grey, came back through.

 

So, I revisited, the thought,

of an ark, and I bought,

enough lumber, to get us afloat.

And with nails and some glue,

nuts and bolts, and some screws,

I put together, what looked, like a boat.

 

Now, with the building, all through,

it was time, for phase two,

the gathering in, of the fauna.

I found the dogs and the cats,

I found squirrels, and bats,

and I managed, to find, two iguana.

 

Well, it didn’t take long,

to see, what was wrong,

the room, would be rapidly, fading.

 I couldn’t carry them all,

so, one of each, I did call,

and asked them, to do, some persuading.

 

The first, was the bear,

he had prepared, with great care,

but in the end, did not, get his wish.

There’d be no room, for his berries,

his size, caused me worries,

and of course, we would carry, no fish.

 

Then next, came the skunk,

with whom, no one, would bunk,

and that fact alone, ruled them out.

Yes, they came, and they came,

and it continued, to rain,

like the heavens, had opened, a spout.

 

Well, now I could see,

it was all, up to me,

and quickly, I’d have, to decide.

I ‘d have to, make up my mind

Who would be, left behind,

and who, would come, for the ride.

 

I ruled out, the large reptile,

and others, that I thought vile,

but the horses, just for beauty, were in.

The hogs, they would sail,

for I knew, without fail,

there was food, hidden under, their skin.

 

The elk and the moose,

I had to refuse,

and reluctant, the same, of the fox,

but, oh my, he was sly,

that little, redheaded guy,

and they, stowed-away, in a box.

 

I took on the goat,

and as they boarded, the boat,

they turned, and said “bah”, to their friends.

 Oh, the sheep, left to weep,

would not be needed, to sleep,

for in dreamland, that night, I would spend.

 

And then finally, the cow,

said she’d stay, in the bow,

and from there, she never, would roam.

When I asked, of her mate,

she did not, hesitate,

and said the bull, was here, in this poem.

 

With phase two, now in place,

against the clock, I did race,

to get, all provisions, on board.

There was feed, to be had,

but in weather, this bad,

the mood, it was prime, for discord.

 

As I worked, on phase three,

the logistics, you see,

I became, overwhelmed, with the task.

I needed a crew,

not just, one or two,

so I went, to my friends, and I asked.

 

If any or all,

would answer, the call,

to sign on, and go sailing, with me.

They all had excuses,

one said, if the mooses,

weren’t going, then neither, was he.

 

Another would claim,

that arthritical pain,

would not allow him, to shovel, or scoop.

And, he’d be of no use,

to me, or the goose,

and removed, himself, from the loop.

 

But, when my wife said to me,

that neither would she,

 I knew my plans, had come, to an end.

And I must then, bid adieu,

to the deer, and gnu,

and the rest, of my animal, friends.

 

Now when I, said goodbye,

was with a tear, in my eye,

as I, had gotten, to know ‘em.

But one, would stay on,

and though the cow, she was gone,

the bull, would remain, with this poem.

 Jack Downing

Apr. 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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About poemsandponderings

The voice of the people must never be silent but use the ballot not the bullet and be thoughtful, not violent. ~Jack Downing~
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