I sat all day in the blinds in the marsh,
trying to trap a poem.
I set my traps in the deep woods.
I dug a hole in the ice,
but the poems weren't biting.

The poems were too smart for me,
they were onto my ways.
They'd gotten my scent
and stayed away.

I was getting hungry,
starving for poems.
I was wasting away.

FEMA never brought me any poems.
The government never air-dropped
any Poems-Ready-To-Go.

At last, a small poem came by,
but it wasn't much,
it didn't have much meat.

I'm starting to think
these regions are all poemed out.
I need to head for a wilder place.

Max Reif

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poem-hunter/