I write a poem

it was a monday

thought I would write a poem

and not play

but with words

I couldn’t find my way

they kept floating near and far away

I wanted to write about a crocodile

who was stupid

and a turtle who would often skid

and a crow who lived on a tree

and hated the bothersome beach flea

I thought they were all nice characters

and they would do

what I wanted them to do

like decent actors

I thought I would weave a story

of good friends

who would always be true

and would walk on a path to glory

but even before I could begin

and what a great tale

I was about to spin

the stupid crocodile grabbed the turtle

my story began to skid and hurtle

and even before I could think of a twist

the crow tried to eat the beach flea

but the poor fellow

got stung in the ensuing melee

it was not the way

I wanted my story to end

but I had lost control of my characters

I would not pretend

it was not the first time

my poem had such a tragic fate

all my characters have been

behaving strangely of late

I fail to write

what I plan to write

but a poem or a tale

has to end someway, right.

© ib arora