Today Is: Thursday, June 04, 2020 03:38 PM. Our Topic of the Week: Unity

Check our Help area first!

Comments? Suggestions?

Contact us now!

We like hearing feedback from members on how to improve the site!

Author Name: PremiumDr Fogg 5 Comments
Date Added: July 24, 2012 05:07:17 Average Score: (Needs 2)
Views This Week
Members: 0
Unique Members: 0
Guests: 124
Total Views
Members: 7
Unique Members: 7
Guests: 453

Type: Rhyming
Category: Humor Add To Favorites | Text Only

Joey (R.I.P)


When I was eight they gave to me

A budgie in a cage.

Quite a responsibility

For someone of my age.


A plucky little fella

 Joey was his name.

I used to let him from his cage

And we would play this game.


I would be a German

With an antiaircraft gun

He would be a bomber

With poo as ammunition


My bunker was mum's cushions

My gun an elastic band

My shells were tiny paper clips

Fired through two fingers of my hand


He was a Lancaster bomber

And would dive right over me

He often scored some direct hits

I was covered in whoopsi


But then one day

He started on his run

I waited till I could see his eyes

Then let go with my gun


He gave a chirp

And spiralled to the ground

Behind my mothers easy chair

Old Joey could be found


On his back with both legs up

He gave his dying breath

Against all odds he’d battled through

He died a hero’s death


I buried poor old Joey

In the garden by a tree

My guilt continues to this day

Hence the obituary.


(Forgive me Joey, I was only eight and you were old enough to know better)

Author's Notes:
Report Offensive Poem.

'Joey.' Copyright © Harry William Harborne
Copyright is property of the above author or group. Reproduction in whole or in part is strictly prohibited.
Click here if you feel this poem is in violation of a copyright.
Click here to send this poem to someone!

Comment By: FreeGraham Jones on July 25, 2012 03:58:36 AM Report
Well you scored a Birdie with that one but at least he went out on a wing and a prayer~Graham.
Comment By: PremiumDan J. Mazurek on July 24, 2012 03:19:17 PM Report

Maybe a WW2 carrier pigeon would have had better odds.

What was his last words.

nicely portrayed in rhyme.

Comment By: FreeShe Whispers on July 24, 2012 12:31:35 PM Report

 I think most can realet to this sadness!! Your a wonderful writer from the heart.... A gift!!

 She Whispers

Comment By: PremiumJoe McNinney on July 24, 2012 10:38:50 AM Report
Sad but terrific piece, Joe
Comment By: FreeFirestone Feinberg on July 24, 2012 09:56:03 AM Report
A sad tale.  Children can be cruel.  It is normal.  I understand your old feelings.  I too have similar ones.  What can we do?  Feel bad, I guess, and try to move on -- with guilt in our knapsacks.  --David


Check for Announcements.
on our Home page!

User poems are sometimes graced by images and textures stored on our site
courtesy of, Sandy Hradil, and Sherri Emily.

Welcome, Guest!

Become part of our
friendly community
of on-line writers!

Join today!
Forget Username or Password?

Members On Line: 0
Guests On Line: 27
Members in Chat: 0

Happy Birthday

We Thank You!

For your donations
and subscriptions!
P.O. Box 7931
The Woodlands, TX 77387

Copyright © 2003-2017  All Rights Reserved. Use of this site is subject to certain
Terms of Service rules which constitute a legal agreement between you and
By providing links to other sites, neither approves of, endorses, or gurantees
any information, opinions, or products found on those sites. Users follow links at their own risk.