Dead Eye
Please. No More Broccoli

We lived in a forest near rivers and streams
With hunting and fishing fulfilling our dreams
Since she was the “gatherer,” I was to hunt
I purchased a bow and I practiced in front
My wife is the reason I’m sharing this yarn
She recognized early I can’t hit a barn
She wrote in a letter “You’re getting the boot
And I’m not returning until you can shoot”
Her constant complaining was driving me nuts
It started to feel like she hated my guts
I’m hoping her promise, she’s willing to keep
It felt a bit awkward pretending to weep
I’m hunting this year by the Arkansas river
I’ll shoot every arrow I have in my quiver
I’m a “hunter” intending to eat what he shoots
So that would explain all the veggies and roots
Tho I’d love to have turkey or some other game
I’m a holiday vegan cos I couldn’t aim
My wife is still absent, I’m feeling no lack
But if I keep missing she’s not coming back
About the Creator
Earl W. Pearl
I’ve been writing poetry (rhyming mostly) since about 2014 and have recently transitioned to writing novels and short stories. My poetry genres are faith, humor, social issues, politics, pretty much any subject matter.
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