A short piece, casually written in response to a challenge from a friend to rhyme the words orange and purple inpoetry. I did not quite succeed (though some may be be interested to know that purple rhymes with the word 'curple'; a curple being a stirrup) but the produced result is shown below.


Orange glows the sun
Over dull fields of mutton
That graze without mind,
Under coats without button.

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They don't see the predator
Coats silver of gleam,
Until teeth approach:
Loud are the screams.

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Young farmer comes,
Wields rifle at hand,
Foot set in stirrup,
Defending his land.

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His expression majestic,
Strong is his cry.
The trigger is pulled,
To fly is to die.

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But he did not know,
The crime he had done.
His flock he had saved,
But he had not won.

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For the predators he slew,
Were species endangered-
He lost his job after that.

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