Roscoe
By Linrose
NOTE: This poem is based on a children's story, Roscoe and the Carrot Adventure, that I wrote earlier this year. Universal theme for everyone :-)Roscoe, Roscoe hops along,Digs in gardens—hums a song;Carrots are his favorite snack—Five are usually in his pack.Roscoe’s nose can sniff afar,It’s a guide—like the North Star;Gifts, like this one, are so rare,But Roscoe hasn’t learned to share.Roscoe’s greed is known by all,His grandpa, most of them recall—Had this precious gift of smell—Found food for all in vale and dell.Roscoe’s greed leads him astray,When a fox makes him his prey;The fox tells Roscoe of a place,Where wishes rise before his face. Roscoe’s eyes grow large and glisten,And his ears perk up to listen,Carrots are his greatest wish,At meals, he has some on his dish.So Roscoe makes a foolish choice,He doesn’t listen to the voice,That whispers danger in his ear—He follows fox with cheer, not fear.An owl, so wise, warns Roscoe once,But Roscoe turns away and runs—Towards fox who’s gone so far ahead,That Roscoe thinks the fox has fled.They meet upon the path once more,Then fox leaves Roscoe like before,Just when Roscoe hears a sound,A swooshing noise from all around.He calls to fox, who’s not in sight,The woods are dark—he shakes in fright;A voice then echoes from a cave,It’s fox who calls, “Come and be brave.”Roscoe hops into cave with fear,Sees fox near fire at the rear;He gets excited when he hears—This is the magic place, then cheers!Roscoe soon finds that he was wrong,The fox had tricked him all along;Magic wishes were not granted,This dark cave was not enchanted.The fox pushed Roscoe towards the fire,He laughed when Roscoe called him liar;Roscoe screamed “Help” as he fell in,Then felt the room begin to spin.Just when he thought that he would fall,A swooshing sound came from a wall,A swarm of bats came down on fox,Roscoe ran out the cave towards rocks.In his rush, he hit the rocks,He fell asleep—not safe from fox;A swooshing once again came by,The owls had watched him from the sky.A rescue mission was their plan,He lay across the owls’ wing span;They flew him back to a safe place,He was alive by their good grace.Roscoe learned a real hard lesson,His naïve trust did somewhat lessen;Sometimes truth lies deeply hidden,In what sounds good but is forbidden.Roscoe hippety-hopped towards home,He lost the desire to roam;He knew his gift was meant to share,And greed led only to despair. Written May 19th, 2001 © on Oct 03 2001 05:25 PM PST 0 • 10
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"NOTE: This poem is based on a children's story, Roscoe and the Carrot Adventure, that I wrote earlier this year. Universal theme for everyone :-)Roscoe, Roscoe hops along,Digs in gardens—hums a song;Carrots are his favorite snack—Five are usually in his pack.Roscoe’s nose can sniff afar,It’s a guide—like the North Star;Gifts, like this one, are so rare,But Roscoe hasn’t learned to share.Roscoe’s greed is known by all,His grandpa, most of them recall—Had this precious gift of smell—Found food for all in vale and dell.Roscoe’s greed leads him astray,When a fox makes him his prey;The fox tells Roscoe of a place,Where wishes rise before his face. Roscoe’s eyes grow large and glisten,And his ears perk up to listen,Carrots are his greatest wish,At meals, he has some on his dish.So Roscoe makes a foolish choice,He doesn’t listen to the voice,That whispers danger in his ear—He follows fox with cheer, not fear.An owl, so wise, warns Roscoe once,But Roscoe turns away and runs—Towards fox who’s gone so far ahead,That Roscoe thinks the fox has fled.They meet upon the path once more,Then fox leaves Roscoe like before,Just when Roscoe hears a sound,A swooshing noise from all around.He calls to fox, who’s not in sight,The woods are dark—he shakes in fright;A voice then echoes from a cave,It’s fox who calls, “Come and be brave.”Roscoe hops into cave with fear,Sees fox near fire at the rear;He gets excited when he hears—This is the magic place, then cheers!Roscoe soon finds that he was wrong,The fox had tricked him all along;Magic wishes were not granted,This dark cave was not enchanted.The fox pushed Roscoe towards the fire,He laughed when Roscoe called him liar;Roscoe screamed “Help” as he fell in,Then felt the room begin to spin.Just when he thought that he would fall,A swooshing sound came from a wall,A swarm of bats came down on fox,Roscoe ran out the cave towards rocks.In his rush, he hit the rocks,He fell asleep—not safe from fox;A swooshing once again came by,The owls had watched him from the sky.A rescue mission was their plan,He lay across the owls’ wing span;They flew him back to a safe place,He was alive by their good grace.Roscoe learned a real hard lesson,His naïve trust did somewhat lessen;Sometimes truth lies deeply hidden,In what sounds good but is forbidden.Roscoe hippety-hopped towards home,He lost the desire to roam;He knew his gift was meant to share,And greed led only to despair...."