Ode to the Angry Birds

Twas a calm and lovely afternoon as those birds enjoyed the weather,
No such reason to be dismayed or to point a feather.

Alas, the serenity would last no more as creeping in the mist,
Lurked a cunning tribe of pigs, and boy those pigs looked pissed.

The sun set promptly on the bird’s land, revealing a curtain of black,
The pigs crept closer to the village, as per their plan of attack.

These were no ordinary pigs you see, with their pigment a bright green,
This alliance of swine were quite the kleptos, and frankly just plain mean.

The birds laid their heads down to sleep and dreamt of a foreign bird filled land,
Unknowingly to those kind birds, this is what the evil pigs had planned.

Quietly the pigs approached bird camp, their grim smiles shining bright,
And just like that they captured the poor bird’s eggs, and made off into the night.


Vibrantly the sun arose, waking the birds as it did each day,
But their birdie spirits were not as bright, and rather a murky shade of gray.

Words were not exchanged, as they all realized their current situation,
For years the pigs were on the prowl as they shunned emancipation.

Once a coalition of happy birds, desperate times called for a change of stance,
These birds went from forever gleeful to angry, in one alacritous glance.



Mr. Red was the leader of the birdie pack, often taking matters into his own beak,
But in order to secure what was rightfully theirs would require advanced technique.

“I can’t do this alone” Mr. Red cried out, proclaiming his decree,
“I will assist”, said Mr. Blue, “For I’m not one, but three”.

“Better, yet we are meak, adding ferocious strength to the team is a must.”
“I too will join”, shouted Mr. Yellow, “As I have been blessed with the gift of thrust.”

Mr. Red responded, “still there are towers and walls we must break down”,
At this the peaking smiles of the birds plummeted upside down.

“Fear not”, Mr. Black proclaimed, “as I can demolish those walls thus ending my life”,
“But I rather die a martyr knowing our village is safe for my kids and wife”.

“A team indeed”, shrieked Mr. Red “yet those pigs come cloaked in defensive sheath”
“We must find something more to knock out their evil piggy teeth”.

Miss White claimed, “I’ll help too. My bomb eggs can pierce their rocky armor,
Plus explosive eggs are of no use to the traditional farmer.”

“A battalion this powerful is enough to take these evil pigs down”
With that these angry birds were off to wage war on the piggy town.



The battle raged for many moons, flowing into more than one season,
But on fought the birds through fire and rain in the name of independence and reason.

Blood was shed and many lives were lost, the casualties accruing each day,
Though on the path of war the birds did find some treasures along the way.

From golden eggs to rubber duckies, those prizes cannot replace lives,
And the agony and heartbreak that such a war deprives.

Day and night did pass, but with each moon-fall those angry birds grew near,
To that day they declared victory with a deafening feathered cheer.

The birds retreated back to their home, their stolen eggs in hand,
As they approached they were greeted by chirping faces and a marvelous band.

That war will live on in infamy, as a fowl-livestock conflict for the ages,
We shall always remember the tears and depravity that such a battle engages.

02. December 2010 by Alex Trevisan
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