Poetry Thursday

 

Once again Angel Sammys and and Teddys Pawetatonc have challenged us to write a poem about the picture below.  Please to enjoy

Otto hated to travel by plane

When it came to the ring, he did reign

But flying made him insane

He couldn't fit through the doors and had to access the fuselage via crane

Paul loved to fly

If he crashed, it was his idea of a great way to die

He got so much done on a flight that it was hard to quantify

And the airline served the best Shepard’s Pie

The only way Otto could go

Was if he sat in the front row

Or strapped down in cargo

His agent got his seat in row one, where he could relax and sip his merlot

Much to his surprise, when Otto boarded, he found a little dude in the first seat

And said to Paul, “You’re in the wrong seat, meat”

And Paul replied that there was no mystique

The airline gave him the seat when a doctor said he needed to stretch his feet

Otto was told to sit by a member of the crew

And the big man squeezed into row two

Like an elephant in a canoe

 Before take off, Paul told Otto to sit up straight, and he could feel Otto’s knees coming through

Then Paul tilted back

And Otto felt like he was in a rack

Then Paul began snoring like a Gatling gun attack

And Paul had a flashback of being crushed by Haystack

At the end of the flight, Otto woke up with a grin

With his legs spread out like a kingpin

And he hoped it certainly  was no sin

When Otto threw Paul out the window over Brooklyn