Mascots at McDonalds
by Helen A Companion
Sunday, March 03, 2002
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Dust bunnies scatter like tumbleweed with every step,
Every factory produced Niké, Dirt filled
treads, that make the sole flat and soft.
Bunnies reproduce almost as quickly as shoes,
But they scurry underneath leaves, make
themselves invisible. We don’t see them,
think that the tracks beneath our feet were left
by our shoes, the fingerprints on the leaves
more proof that we’ve been here.
Tomato and ketchup are the same color,
That bright red children scrape on paper
With their crayons, representing blood.
The janitor will never get the ketchup off,
It stains, it always has. He thinks they should paint
The tables red, just to cover it up.
Even Ronald McDonald agrees. His hair
Used to be blond, before teenagers started throwing
Ketchup, and the executive didn’t think it look right
So they painted him, made him smile. But if
You look deep into the blue of his eyes,
He’ll glare at you, and tell you not eat the ketchup.
Soon, instead of a clown, McDonald’s
Will remember It, and replace him with
A white bunny, and his eyes
Will start out sweet, but as his pale fur,
Gets covered in limp tomatoes and ketchup,
They will paint him, and McDonald’s
will need a new Mascot
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|Reviewed by Kate Clifford
|Poor Mcdonald. Good write. I do have to agree with David.|
|Reviewed by Masarat Daud (Reader)
|Creative...different read. Long time no "see" :)|
|Reviewed by Aamie Burnley
|... something missing, i thing david said what i feel, and thank god for him because i often dont know why i feel what i feel in relation to poetry. poets write songs to which we attach our own tune: sing out helen!!!!!|
|Reviewed by David Norris (Reader)
|I was your age when I started writing poetry, 40 years ago. I see a lot I like here. A good writer's eye. But one grammar error, a questionable capital letter, and the spelling of that red stuff, is that intentional? a pun? I hear no music in your voice yet. Learn to sing. Lines two and three sound so workshop. Once I finished college, it took me four years to unlearn the voice that I had been taught. Be careful of that. Good luck. Remember to always do it for the love of the language, because poetry pays nothing. And "famous poet" is an oxymoron. Peace.|
|Reviewed by Justin Wolf (Reader)
|Interesting... very interesting...|
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|Very creative and interesting read...|