K.W.Ferguson 39 Charlbrook Ave Barrie ON CANADA L4M 2Y6 (705)-739-8801 e-mail:golding@bconnex.net " Was A Fly " Was a fly on my sill. I watched as he writhed. How sinister, wicked and wretched. How sly. To brood from my bureau with circumspect eye; Sleepless spy and a not so spry fly. He wiggled...I winced...and could no more resist. In this malady, mostly morose, I'd assist. Oh, save him ? You might, but the pane's painted tight, so I eulogized, solemn, last rites. I poked him with pencil. I pushed and I prodded. I lanced off his legs as the sun slowly nodded. The fiend and the foe in fastidious fight; To the death draped in numinous night. Without recourse for danger, the battle did rage, When fly, less appendages, winged for my face. I lunged...pirouetted... On guard, fly !... Touche ! Then, in silence... beheaded... he lay. I clamoured, exhausted. Spent from the brawl. To my bed, a Napoleon in rags, I did crawl. Feeble and weak from the evening's foray; My sword by my side ( just in case ). I drifted in dreams of the book I would write. Describing my plunderous, perilous plight; A buzzword or two for post~mortem delight, ...For the fly who flew into the light.
Reason for writing:
I Hate flies that bug me when I'm writing(untill now)Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by K.W.Ferguson.