Benedictus

I once found a little owl
playing amongst the thicket
he curiously waved a little stick
and then began to lick it

Of all your toes
I do oppose you
having only three

To this request
the owl got dressed
and flew up to the tree

The thicket then in mighty woe
began to stir and fidget
for it had lost its only friend
Benedictus the midget

But hold on now
you don't suppose
the owl was Benedictus

He had toes three
flew up a tree
if we held sticks he licked us

His seemingly rather eccentric ways
evolved when he was younger
had he not been the pope you see
he would have died of hunger

Two were the source of his belief
three toes he now had sprouted
and that's the reason, little bee
that he had always shouted

I'm not a bee..
I hold no stick!
I claim to be the reader!

Your claim then is by far unjust
for books aren't merely made of dust
they're made of withered sticks and sap
I bid farewell to you old chap
and if by chance you are a bee
you are a true believer

The ostentatious cucumber

The cucumber resolved its precarious remark
with a flamboyant dance of virility

It wavered its rod
and hammered a cod
which dazed had to walk back to Ility

It then fell in distress
for the cod was a mess
and could probably sue it for money

So it married a bee
bought a house by the sea
and promised to pay it in honey

It was fond of the cause
had provoked an applause
and was boasting its way of acquittal

But when chopped by the knife
in the sandwich it went
turns out life is unnervingly brittle