Ode To A Bat


The bat's is not a public face,
   Its beauty's in the dark,
Yet if I versify its grace
   And catch its vital spark
May it not win as high a place
   As any literary lark?

O bat! O bat! O flying shrew! . . .'
    But no, the Muse played flirt.
 My inspiration stuck like glue,
     The piece proved quite inert,
 Despite a theft from you-know-who.
     Yes: Bird thou never wert.

Jerome Betts

If you have any comments on this poem,  Jerome Betts would be pleased to hear from you.