18h (edited) β’ π Chat
πThe Attack of the Flying Hotdogs
Goose sat back upon the couch,
Just chilling out, relaxing slouch.
A peaceful day, no stress in sight
Then hotdogs took a sudden flight.
From left to right they flew in fast,
A sausage storm that couldn't last.
They slapped his cheeks, they hit his nose,
One tried to sneak inside his clothes.
A hotdog smacked him on the chin,
Another tried to tuck right in.
They bounced and twirled through open air
Like meat missiles without a care.
βOh mercy me!β poor Goose did cry,
As bratwursts started flying by.
βWhat wizard cooked this sausage spell?!β
He shouted from his couch of hell.
The world stood stillβ¦ the room went quietβ¦
No one prepared him for this diet.
For when the hotdogs start to rain,
No couch on earth can ease the pain.
So heed this warning, near and far
Beware the airborne wiener war.
For when the sausages take flightβ¦
Your snack attack may bite back tonight.
By Jason Strickland
The Art of Poetry Community
26
25 comments
πThe Attack of the Flying Hotdogs
skool.com/goosify
π©· Turn ur community into a movement.
Leaderboard (30-day)
1
+7094
2
π₯
+6071
3
+4580
4
π₯
+4571
5
π₯
+4426
Powered by