
In response to post by Living Poetry’s
Bartholomew Barker
“Let’s Write A Picnic Poem”
A bed of roses life is not
a nest of thorns
is where I lay my lot
That pretty vine
that looks so soft
poison ivy is what I got
Up above the sky so blue
above my head seagull’s flew
onto my head they did plop
This pretty blanket I sit upon
checkered red placed on the ground
wool made blisters all around
This poem has said nothing new
think I shall have to give
it back to Bartholomew!
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