Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Illustrate the meaning of “Don’t Try to Walk before You Can Crawl” (without using the actual phrase or literal example). (01/17/08)
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TITLE: Tweety Anticipation | Previous Challenge Entry
By Temple Miller
01/24/08 -
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It's keepin' me wa-ai-ai-i-tin'…"
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A tweety-bird perched in a tree,
and chirped to his mommy, “Oh me!
My feathers are itching to fly,
and Oh Mommy, I want to try.”
“Your tweety-bird wings are too small,
and I do not want you to fall,”
the tweety-bird’s mama replied.
But Tweety was seething inside,
“She’s making my tweety-heart burn
and causing my stomach to churn,”
said Tweety-bird throwing a fit
while tying his quills in a snit.
“A tweety-bird’s job is to fly;
that’s why God created the sky,”
said Tweety-bird twitching his cheek,
and sassing behind his mom’s beak.
But Mama was watching her son.
He’s aching to run for some fun,
thought Mama, one eye on her chick,
adjusting her cleaning-straw stick.
The mama then plucked out her nest.
She dusted and feathered the beds.
While Tweety-bird fumed, It’s not fair.
I know I can fly through the air.
“Now, Tweety-bird, Don’t take the chance.
I’m watching you measure that branch.
You know tweeties can’t jump away.
Just eat a few seeds and we’ll play,”
the tweety-bird’s mama cajoled.
“Oh Tweety-bird, Let’s take a stroll.
A tweety must learn how to hop,
before aiming for the tree top,
and afterwards, learn how to soar
then practice and practice some more.”
When tweety-bird’s mama peeked down,
her son was not peeping a sound.
The chick’s scrawny neck was curved up;
a handle quite like a tea cup.
And cocking his head so to listen
to tweeties how-to-fly lesson:
“My fluttering feathers will blow
a soft gentle breeze for control,
uplifting your teeny-bird wings,
and soon you’ll be ready to fling
your sweety-bird breast from the nest,
beginning your tweety-bird quest.”
The tweety-bird sat still and calm
for Sunshine, his tweety-bird mom,
and bobbled his head saying, “Yes,
my mommy bird always know best.”
His mama bird crooned overhead,
“Come fluff out your pin-tails for bed.”
Her Tweety-bird let out a yawn,
And shuttered his eyes until dawn,
bird-watching his tweety-bird dreams
for just a few minutes it seemed.
A tweety-bird perched in a tree,
and chirped to his mommy, “Oh me!
My feathers are itching to fly,
and Oh, mommy, I want to try.”
His mama just looked to the sky.
Unwadding her feathers, she sighed.
“Oh dear Tweetie, oh me, oh my,"
she said with her tweety-mom smile.
“Your tweety-bird wings are too small
and I do not want you to fall,”
repeated his mom with a trill.
And Sunshine is teaching him, still.
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A satisfying conclusion with no Sylvester in the picture. :-)