Poetry by Jeff Green



by cricketjeff on September 29, 2010.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

A megalotherium wondered one day
Why people got frightened and wandered away.
It’s hard to be shy when your twenty feet tall,
But all that he wanted was friends to play ball.
I said to him, Mega (since that was his name),
Perhaps it’s those daggers, they could be to blame.

He pondered the question and said with a sigh
“You may be correct”, then he started to cry;
“It isn’t my fault that I come with these claws,
I want to play football and hear the applause,
I try to be nice to each person I meet
But most of them holler and run down the street.”

He made me some tea and we sat there to chat,
I watched as he carefully knitted a hat.
His claws were the needles, he knitted and pearled
And tearfully told me his thoughts on the world.
He wanted to dribble and shoot and then score,
As girls on the terraces screamed out for more.

He’d watched, so he said, many teams on TV,
Instinctively knew what he wanted to be.
I question his aims and his passion and thirst,
If he kicks a football it’s certain to burst!
And fans may go crazy and scream till they’re deaf
If he should fall over and flatten the ref.

We pondered the problem, the answer was plain,
And soon mighty Mega was happy again.
His fingers were perfect for plucking a string
And everyone knows that all giant sloths sing.
He’s forming a band with some glyptodon mates,
They’re booked on a tour of the United States.

I wish the group well as they head off to play,
Their megabeast metal may get you to sway.
I cannot be sure of a good aftermath,
My friend is a little too big for the bath,
I doubt that his downfall will be drugs and drink,
But megalotheriums all seem to stink!