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Owl

Owl is my favourite. Who flies like a nothing through the night, who- whoing . Is a feather duster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy- ing boles of mice. Twice you hear him call. Who is he looking for? You hear him hoovering over the floor of the wood. O would you be gold rings in the driving skull

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Owl

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  1. Owl is my favourite. Who flieslike a nothing through the night,who-whoing. Is a featherduster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ingboles of mice. Twiceyou hear him call. Whois he looking for? You hearhim hoovering over the floorof the wood. O would you be goldrings in the driving skull if you could? ........... George MacBeth

  2. ....................... Hooded andvulnerable by the winter sunsowl looks. Is the grain of barkin the dark. Round beaks are atwork in the pellety nest,working. Owl is an eyein the barn. For a holein the trunk owl's bloodis to blame. Black talons in thepetrified fur! Cold walnut hands on the case of the brain! In the reignof the chicken owl comes likea god. Is a goad inthe rain to the pink eyes,dripping. ...................................

  3. .................. For a meal in the dayflew, killed, on the moor. Sixmouths are the seed of hisarc in the season. Torn meatfrom the sky. Owl livesby the claws of his brain. On the branchin the sever of the hand'stwigs owl is a backward look.Flown wind in the skin. FineRain in the bones. Owl breaksLike the day. Am an owl, am an owl.

  4. Owlis my favourite. Who flieslike a nothing through the night,who-whoing. Is a featherduster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ingboles of mice. Twiceyou hear him call. Whois he looking for? You hearhim hoovering over the floorof the wood. O would you be goldrings in the driving skullif you could? Hooded andvulnerable by the winter sunsowl looks. Is the grain of barkin the dark. Round beaks are atwork in the pellety nest,working. Owl is an eyein the barn. For a holein the trunk owl's bloodis to blame. Black talons in thepetrified fur! Cold walnut hands on the case of the brain! In the reignof the chicken owl comes likea god. Is a goad inthe rain to the pink eyes,dripping. For a meal in the dayflew, killed, on the moor. Sixmouths are the seed of hisarc in the season. Torn meatfrom the sky. Owl livesby the claws of his brain. On the branchin the sever of the hand'stwigs owl is a backward look.Flown wind in the skin. FineRain in the bones. Owl breaksLike the day. Am an owl, am an owl. George MacBeth

  5. Owlis my favourite. Who flieslike a nothing through the night,who-whoing. Is a featherduster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ingboles of mice. Twiceyou hear him call. Whois he looking for? You hearhim hoovering over the floorof the wood. O would you be goldrings in the driving skullif you could? Hooded andvulnerable by the winter sunsowl looks. Is the grain of barkin the dark. Round beaks are atwork in the pellety nest,working. Owl is an eyein the barn. For a holein the trunk owl's bloodis to blame. Black talons in thepetrified fur! Cold walnut hands on the case of the brain! In the reignof the chicken owl comes likea god. Is a goad inthe rain to the pink eyes,dripping. For a meal in the dayflew, killed, on the moor. Sixmouths are the seed of hisarc in the season. Torn meatfrom the sky. Owl livesby the claws of his brain. On the branchin the sever of the hand'stwigs owl is a backward look.Flown wind in the skin. FineRain in the bones. Owl breaksLike the day. Am an owl, am an owl. VISUAL PUNS

  6. Owlis my favourite. Who flieslike a nothing through the night,who-whoing. Is a featherduster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ingboles of mice. Twiceyou hear him call. Whois he looking for? You hearhim hoovering over the floorof the wood. O would you be goldrings in the driving skullif you could? Hooded andvulnerable by the winter sunsowl looks. Is the grain of barkin the dark. Round beaks are atwork in the pellety nest,working. Owl is an eyein the barn. For a holein the trunk owl's bloodis to blame. Black talons in thepetrified fur! Cold walnut hands on the case of the brain! In the reignof the chicken owl comes likea god. Is a goad inthe rain to the pink eyes,dripping. For a meal in the dayflew, killed, on the moor. Sixmouths are the seed of hisarc in the season. Torn meatfrom the sky. Owl livesby the claws of his brain. On the branchin the sever of the hand'stwigs owl is a backward look.Flown wind in the skin. FineRain in the bones. Owl breaksLike the day. Am an owl, am an owl. ONOMATOPOEIA

  7. Owlis my favourite. Who flieslike a nothing through the night,who-whoing. Is a featherduster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ingboles of mice. Twiceyou hear him call. Whois he looking for? You hearhim hoovering over the floorof the wood. O would you be goldrings in the driving skullif you could? Hooded andvulnerable by the winter sunsowl looks. Is the grain of barkin the dark. Round beaks are atwork in the pellety nest,working. Owl is an eyein the barn. For a holein the trunk owl's bloodis to blame. Black talons in thepetrified fur! Cold walnut hands on the case of the brain! In the reignof the chicken owl comes likea god. Is a goad inthe rain to the pink eyes,dripping. For a meal in the dayflew, killed, on the moor. Sixmouths are the seed of hisarc in the season. Torn meatfrom the sky. Owl livesby the claws of his brain. On the branchin the sever of the hand'stwigs owl is a backward look.Flown wind in the skin. FineRain in the bones. Owl breaksLike the day. Am an owl, am an owl. SOUNDS OF SILENCE

  8. Owlis my favourite. Who flieslike a nothing through the night,who-whoing. Is a featherduster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ingboles of mice. Twiceyou hear him call. Whois he looking for? You hearhim hoovering over the floorof the wood. O would you be goldrings in the driving skullif you could? Hooded andvulnerable by the winter sunsowl looks. Is the grain of barkin the dark. Round beaks are atwork in the pellety nest,working. Owl is an eyein the barn. For a holein the trunk owl's bloodis to blame. Black talons in thepetrified fur! Cold walnut hands on the case of the brain! In the reignof the chicken owl comes likea god. Is a goad inthe rain to the pink eyes,dripping. For a meal in the dayflew, killed, on the moor. Sixmouths are the seed of hisarc in the season. Torn meatfrom the sky. Owl livesby the claws of his brain. On the branchin the sever of the hand'stwigs owl is a backward look.Flown wind in the skin. FineRain in the bones. Owl breaksLike the day. Am an owl, am an owl. DEATH IMAGERY

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