Cup
Kiwi,
Poem,
Horse,
Cup,
He’s small,
Brown,
And cute,
He likes to stick
his long nose,
Into everything,
That isn’t his,
And everything,
That is,
His,
Beady little eyes,
Staring out,
Looking in,
Hiding,
Beneath that bush,
Afraid of the sun,
Afraid of being
too bright,
He likes to walk
around at night,
All by himself,
Pecking at the
worms,
Eating all the
bugs,
Cleaning,
His nest,
When no ones
around,
When no one can
see,
He likes to be
noticed,
He likes to be
seen,
But,
He doesn’t take
the
Admiration too
well,
Leaving that,
For those who
deserve it,
Those who work
harder,
Clean tidier,
Who,
Unlike him,
Really gleam,
Out in that hot
sun,
He likes,
Doing the work,
That nobody does
best,
He likes,
His feet close to
the ground,
His nose in the
sand,
He likes an
education,
He likes these
situations,
Yet,
He sees others,
Who are more
worthy,
More daring,
So,
Like the good
little,
Brown thing he is,
Knowing,
He’s a star,
Yet,
Admonishing the
admiration,
He keeps his feet,
Firmly planted on
the ground.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Yet he doesn’t have
you,
There was a ball,
Rolling down the
hall,
About to fall,
When Paul,
Ran up,
To it,
With his cup,
He made it sit
still,
In his hand,
A bitter pill,
To swallow,
When it was about
to land,
In that tiny
hallow,
Within the wood,
He thought,
What should,
He do?
Where will he go,
So he had a poo,
As he went to
show,
His dear old mummy,
Just what a big,
Bad dummy,
Wearing a wig,
He was.
He knows them,
Better than he
knows his best mate,
They know him
better,
Then they know
their master,
He knows,
He’s not that
great,
They know,
That it doesn’t matter,
He knows,
That when he found
them,
He was trapped,
Like that rat in
that cage,
They know,
That,
When they met,
He would never be
like a tree,
And leave,
He knows,
They are the
reason he stays in Korea,
They know,
He will always be
that brick in their wall,
Solid,
Staying strong, in
their ground,
Until,
That typhoon
comes,
And blows him
down.
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