STORK. I am hungry.
Razor-sharp beak
poised
to snatch
a silver-scaled trout
from the murky, shallow water.
I wait patiently
for my dinner.
I look down
at my thin, long legs
like chopsticks
protruding
from a feather bed
and feel
slightly ridiculous.
I hope the trout don’t laugh.
By Thomas Yates aged 14 who receives Penguin Modern Poets 1. Submitted by Mr C Yates of Maharishi School, Ormskirk, Lancs, who receives the Poetry Society’s teacher’s newsletter, a quarterly bulletin which includes features on innovative approaches to poetry in the classroom.
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A whimsical stork to partner last week’s thoughtful macaw. I like the way this starts out as a realistic nature poem and ends up as an anthropomorphic joke. There’s no law that says we have to write in one style only and to pull the rug from under one’s own poem can be an effective comic device.