A poem

This poem was written while eating lunch in a park. The feelings expressed in the poem are really what I was feeling. Luckily, my lunch ended much more pleasantly than the poem.

I don't often write poetry. Thus, I don't really know what makes good poetry. But the few people that I have read this poem to have found it slightly amusing.
So, here it goes:

Desecration by Seagull

Sweet brown rice, with mass appeal
I sit to eat my favorite meal.
at the park,
on the bench,
I'll have it down, in a cinch.

The rolling river,
The golden sun,
The weeping willows:
This day's a plum.

The wind, he blows,
and on that breeze
the seagulls please
to swoop right down upon the ground.
All sweet and innocent, I should think,
these birds that dwell around the sea.

Here they come,
first one by one,
then two by two,
they begin to circle 'round me and you.

How picturesque it seems to me,
like something from a childhood dream.
Lower and lower, around they come
until they're nibbling at my thumb!

The beasts! The horror!
I can not bear
as they begin to rip and tear.

First fork they pull from my hand
And then begin to flit and fan.
As now the rice is gone you see,
they've nothing left to eat, but me!

Seagulls on Antelope Island
(not the same beasts that inspired the poem)