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An Acrostic Poem (The Right Word)

Those birds I ponder near my house
Have holes in trees as flitter mouse,
Except they flitter through the day.

Such grating songs they always play,
Part cuckoo screeches calling loud,
All arrogance and preening proud.
Right rudely do they guard the nests-
Rough arguments; effusive pests.
Oh, sparrows are a noisome bunch
When break my fast and spoil my lunch.

And when of wind they might run dry,
Nowhere is there a silent sigh.
Damn chickadees now chide and bitch.

The rant is as a scratchless itch.
Hell hath no music like their “song”.
Eccentric ghosts of fools gone wrong?

Condemn me to this sentence cruel!
High note and low, while on the stool,
I ever must endure the wail.
Cacophony of Cosmic scale
Kills love of nature’s keen delight.
All breeds of bird engage to fight.
Don’t get me wrong, aggression moves
Each passive creature and improves
Each generation in due course.

A crow will fight a hawk perforce
Resulting in a stronger house.
E’en sparrows will a pecking louse

Molest when more than wood he seeks,
Although ‘tis when to nests he peeks
That chickadees become aroused.
In this is nature’s wisdom housed.
Not though, in couplings base, unmeet.
God turns his ear from blended tweet.

In hovels of the maple tree
Not one, but count too vast to see,
The birds are hatching half breed spawn!
Enough! The deed leaves Gaea thrawn!
Revolting is the hybrid deed.
An action that perverts the seed.
Chicks half and half and in same nest.
Indeed, this makes an evil pest.
Alright, I’ve had my racist rant.
Look not for me in black currant.
Look not for me where they might sing.
You have to know I hate the spring.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
I hate this poem, but so much want to like it because it's my only acrostic.
Editing stage: 


You're making your partner's job so hard. Acrostics are a real pain and you've even doubled that pain with the rhyming couplets.
I remember reading this a while ago on the AT.


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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