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By: moonphish

Page 1, poetry can be dangerous

some people like activities like painting or canoeing
others like myself prefer to sit and do haiku-ing
there's a lot of variations in this subtle form of art
but when it comes to syllables, its seventeen that's smart
now i can be rebellious when i get the certain urge
i'll start to buck the system when my pulse begins to surge
and one day writing haiku with my patience wearing thin
i took an extra syllable and slyly tossed it in
when people read the haiku i discovered with no doubt
that when it comes to syllables no one will count them out
and this became my habit though you might just think its mean
i never wrote a haiku where it came out seventeen
one night i was creating them at quite a torrid pace
outside my bedroom window there appeared an angry face
a crazy hooded figure smashed my window as he cried
and then my door exploded, and a crowd emerged inside
they all stood gathered 'round me, was a dark and gloomy scene
a quick enumeration told me there were seventeen
their robes all different colors, every one had sword held high
the leader of the gang approached and this what he cried
we are the secret warriors, defenders of the arts
and you've committed blasphemy, a stabbing of our hearts
and now you've been invaded by the ninjas of haiku
and its our noble duty to pull swords and run you through
i must admit at first i laughed when i heard this decree
but laughing was i not when that first sword lashed out at me
i knocked the table over and i scrambled up to zoom
running paths of crazy zig zags as i raced around the room
i had to think of something or else deadly i'd be struck
and inspiration hit me as another sword i ducked
it was because of haiku that this all had come about
and it would be more haiku that would surely help me out
now poetry is hard enough when one is left at peace
but suddenly much harder when your head may soon be creased
while staring at a ninja with a robe of ruby red
i looked into his steely eyes and this is what i said
warrior in red
as scarlet as a ruby
your stone turns to dust
and suddenly he vanished in a scarlet cloud of smoke
and all because a simple little poem that was evoked
the next avenging warrior was dressed in ocean blue
my mind was working overtime and thinking of that hue
warrior in blue
color of the pacific
evaporate now
the ninjas kept advancing but i knew now how to fight
i won't bore you with the haiku but they vanished left and right
the last one wore a robe of orange, his face intense and grim
and here's the little beauty that i finally threw at him
warrior in orange
full of juice just like a fruit
i shall squeeze you dry
but yet he kept on coming and i didn't have a clue
but if i didn't think of something i knew he would run me through
at last i found the answer just before the deed was done
he thought orange should be two syllables instead of only one
ninja of orange
full of juice just like the fruit
i shall squeeze you dry
with that he dissipated and i slumped down with a sigh
today i learned a lesson and a wiser man am i
and now i'm very careful when its poetry i do
its seventeen in syllables when i write a haiku

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