Best Chanticleer Poems
It began...
One day in a far off land where roamed the fearsome Chanticleer.
There lived a mighty military man of rank, if not of prowess.
He sought to tame the wily beast to bend it to his purpose
and dress its unsavory meat with secret herbs and spices.
And so it goes, the word was passed to every town and village,
to every man of strength and worth, "Come join our quest...
and feed the hungry children."
From far away the call was heard and answered by a chevalier,
who sought his fame and fortune.
He joined the ranks of other men to best the bird in battle,
and lead his hand to take a stand for all that's good and honored.
To journey long he caught a strong and fire breathing dragon,
shining bright its scales alight he flew for many hours.
The light grew dim as the beast gave in and landed on its talons.
Soft and round they touched the ground and squealed like pigs in fallow.
Alighting from the silvery beast and eager for the challenge,
he gathered with a band of knights at a local tavern
for a place to stay and to plan a way the beast to slay,
when he saw the king's young daughter.
He stared agog like a love sick dog as he laid his eye upon her,
exotic was she with her silken skin and gentle and elegant manner.
She looked at him and he saw her grin which took his breath away.
The princess sighed and winked her eye, a different beast she hunted
Her hair aglow in soft warm tones her golden eyes aflutter.
A spell she cast to lure her catch and imprison him in her dungeon.
The knight of old, his soul she stole, his quest was now forgotten.
And so it's told of a love so bold, a man's love for another,
Her hero now with a different vow, a new quest did he follow.
He asked the king,"May I give a ring, to your lovely daughter?"
The king agreed, eager was he, to find this girl a husband.
They moved away to a magical place, a kingdom unlike others,
where kids can play and sing all day and irritate their mothers.
Through many days both bright and grey they strove to love each other
Though times were hard they made their way, their problems just a bother
She bore for him, as time ticked on, two gentle loving daughters,
and there he stayed until old age as husband and as father.
...and they lived happily ever after.
09/16/15
A pair of blue wings is hovering
against the inky black covering
within ‘Little Fox’ constellation
of Vulpecula designation,
portrayed with stipple sidereal
in Hubble image ethereal,
‘Hen two dash four three seven’ labeled.
A hen with fox is Aesop fabled,
except it was really a crow
in that apologue still apropos
where pride overcame the bird’s good sense,
so fox got the food through the pretense
of disparaging its corvine caw;
thus the crow dropped the cheese from its jaw.
There are many stories much the same.
In Middle Ages the bird became
chanticleer; Chaucer’s ‘Canterbury
Tales’ has one that warns to be wary
of flattery false and specious praise,
since fox on inflated ego plays
with rooster to hear his special cry,
hence to distract and snatch him thereby.
Yet fox falls prey to his own conceit,
and chanticleer flees to tree retreat.
But coming back to high-flying hen
which Hubble’s scope brought within our ken,
this nebula with glowing surround
was by stargazer Minkowski found
then by Henize later catalogued
as nebula with the name befogged
in misleading term planetary,
for that title is quite contrary
to remnant of an imploded star,
which is indeed what those objects are.
As shown by the wings, it’s bipolar,
cast off from a star like ours solar
which nearing end of its astral span
swelled to red giant’s flash in the pan
then sent forth its layers into space,
as a white dwarf for core took its place…
And yet my inspiration’s essence
came from the alae’s luminescence
seen in this vast stelliferous sight
against the canvas of cosmic night.
Still, one might fancy those whizzing wings
borne by empyreal bird that sings
melodies wafted amidst the spheres
only a starry-eyed poet hears.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The image and info can be found by looking up Hen 2-437 on the net.
Eyes like fantastic moons that shiver in some stagnant lake
folded like a white rose-leaf
hair was golden as tints of sunrise
tongue is like a scarlet snake.
It took on deep roar as of a cloven world
running to and fro like frightened sheep
face as imperturbable as fate.
It began to roar with that sibilant sound which resembles the hiss of a serpent
and turned on me like a thunder-cloud.
Frightened like a child in the dark
anxiety hung like a dark impenetrable cloud.
My face collapsed as if it were a pricked balloon
And my hair was as harsh as tropical grass and gray as ashes.
My impulse came and went like fireflies in the dusk.
Life stretched before me alluring and various as the open road
like serpents struggling in a vulture's grasp
my body broken as a turning wheel.
My breath travel to Heaven like vapor goes
And my head was like a great bronze bell with one thought for the clapper.
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer
my mind swayed idly like a water-lily in a lake.
My spirit seemed to beat the void, like the bird from out the ark
My thoughts came yapping and growling round me like a pack of curs
fled like a spirit from the room.
I vanished like the shapes that float upon a summers dream.
I am so very tired
I think you'll never know
How much of me I spend following
Chasing where you go
My thoughts wander to you
I construct a world of rights
I try to make myself someone
That maybe you could like
My old self dies a little more
With every breath I breathe
And with every step I take
My heart is wounded, bleeds
Every stroke I make in wroth
A rage I direct for you
Might be wasted each one
A years-long folie-a-deux*
Sometimes I look into the future
And there I see a light
But mostly I feel numb inside
I feel there's only night
So very tired of faking cheer
As I glide through this life here
I reminisce on when dreams were mere
The sunrise of Chanticleer*
*Folie-a-deux - Pronounced "folly-ah-do" - French, "a
madness shared by two"
Chanticleer - Pronounced "Shawn-tih-clear" - Rooster in
old French fables, literal translation "Clear song"
Sometimes we fail to see our faults
because of pride and haughty flaws
which tends to shut all friendship doors
even as chanticleer the bird recalls
A certain season with no remorse
he had to act a gross of chores
as a means to heal his sores
he gave his best to best the course
and all went well as a cause
so be jocund and prudent in tours
learn from chanticleer and get no curse
for pride goeth before the falls.
Oh no, I can’t do it here!
And my feathers are a mess!
Can’t a clucker have a little privacy?
I don’t know about the rest of you
but I can’t just pop out egg after egg
like I’m a plastic PEZ dispenser!
And certainly not in front of that pushy
crower, Chanticleer.
Cock-a-doodle-doo, Cock-a-doodle-SHOO!
There’s not even enough straw in here
to fashion a two-bit bedroom.
And the walls are crate paper thin!
You’d think this was a hen party!
I haven’t heard this much cackling
since the Chippendales came through!
No, changes WILL be made if they ever
want to taste my omelet!
Oh, how's this work, how to reFrame?
The s p i n I'm in
"I hear your Name and I'm aFlame!..."
In Portraits to arabesques in Castles in Spain
And belles letteres of A. Nin
Oh, how's this work, how to reFrame?
Perhaps a chanticleer, puffed jactate, abreast of whether, vained
For thy meadowLin
"I hear your Name and I'm aFlame!..."
ReSown seeds, reap our grain
Grapes to wine, nary raisin'?
Oh, how's this work, how to reFrame?
A burning untamed
Unassuaged by Verse, unlessen'
"I hear your Name and I'm aFlame!..."
Will girasoles thrive arranged
Or Lilies' parure Daffodils akin?
Oh, how's this work, how to reFrame?
"I hear your Name and I'm aFlame!..."
Matilda the peregrine Chanticleer
Has taken up residence
Along the 18th Fairway
Chicken-walking pizzicato- pecking
Rearranging the leaf pile
Clawing with sharpened talons
Making herself at home
Laying her eggs randomly
Amongst golfers’ errant balls
Indistinguishable from a distance
Her plaintive egg song
Like the golfers’ call
Lost in the Wind
In Praise of Meter
by Michael R. Burch
The earth is full of rhythms so precise
the octave of the crystal can produce
a trillion oscillations, yet not lose
a second's beat. The ear needs no device
to hear the unsprung rhythms of the couch
drown out the mouth's; the lips can be debauched
by kisses, should the heart put back its watch
and find the pulse of love, and sing, devout.
If moons and tides in interlocking dance
obey their numbers, what's been left to chance?
Should poets be more lax—their circumstance
as humble as it is?—or readers wince
to see their ragged numbers thin, to hear
the moans of drones drown out the Chanticleer?
Published by Poetry Porch/Sonnet Scroll, The Eclectic Muse, The Best of the Eclectic Muse 1989-2003, Famous Poets & Poems, Poetry Renewal Magazine, Mindful of Poetry, Sonnetto Poesia, Trinacria and Poetry Life & Times
Keywords/Tags: write, writing, words, word play, poetry, poems, poets, sonnet, meter, rhythm, rhythms, pulse, beat, rhyme, dance, numbers, ear, mouth, lips, voice,
Chanticleer has a big problem, clearly
Now that so many folks work remotely
He crows and he crows
But at heart he knows
You sleep late ~ bye-bye job security
In Hope and Faith....we pray this day
Praying today for mothers, fathers strong,
For godly parents raising children throng
May families within our walls
Be shielded from the daily trials and thralls.
We lift up our pastor in prayer,
Asking God to guard his heart with care
To walk closely in the Spirit’s gentle light,
Be encouraged, steadfast in the fight.
For his wife, faithful, dear,
Grant her strength to support her chanticleer
Young hearts, young hands,
Guide them, Lord, across life’s shifting sands.
Let them put their trust in Jesus’ grace,
Their bodies the Holy Spirit’s dwelling place.
Guard them from the darkness round,
That Jesus the Light may abound.
May fathers lead with wisdom there,
And families seek You in humble prayer.
In a confused world that’s lost,
Remind us Who created us,
Let culture’s drift not cloud our view
Your design, Lord, ever true.
We pray Your will for every home,
And for our leaders as they've sown.
Grant courage, wisdom, hearts contrite,
Salvation’s gift and vision bright.
May they walk close and honor You,
Ambassadors in all they do.
And so we echo an ancient plea:
“If My people humble be…”
Heal our land, O King of saints, we cry
In Your Word our hope, from Your hand we’ll fly
In Jesus' name
Amen.