A Mischief Of Magpies Poem by Martin Ward

A Mischief Of Magpies

Rating: 5.0


A mischief of magpies,
drunk in my orchard,
feeding on a fermentation
of apples on the ground.

Their gulp was tittering,
amidst the apples littering
the autumn-gold windfall
that filled the boozy air.

This corvidae conventicle,
crowing incomprehensible
tidings of pleasure from their
treat of early-doors.

Getting playfully sillier,
as the season turns chillier,
in this last-gasp merriment
of flapping, stumbling dawn.

Pica, pica: splice the mainbrace,
call other lads and lasses too.
Magpies behaving badly, sadly
fighting like drunken yobbos do.

With the sun nowhere near
the yardarm, this apple-grog
filled, giggling, drunken mob,
are having such a good time here.

Do magpies suffer hangovers,
or regret their over indulgence?
It seems not, as the leftovers
disappear from my orchard floor.

Friday, October 2, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: birds
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Rose Marie Juan-austin 02 October 2020

The superb imagery of this write made me at close range to these wonderful birds. Beautifully crafted.

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Martin Ward

Martin Ward

Derby, Derbyshire
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