Best Chicken Out Poems
Original Poem Just Desserts
I was at my favourite restaurant and had a lovely meal
If I finished all my food then a pudding was the deal
I’d relished every morsel and was pleased as a Cheshire cat
The dessert menu was on its way, Oh I couldn’t wait for that
The waitress bought the menus and I rubbed my hands with glee
Oh sticky toffee pudding, now that’s the one for me
She came to take the order – we had waited as you do
She finally turned to me and said ‘oh Madam what can I get you’
Oh stiffy cockie pudding please was my swift reply
I didn’t realise what I’d said till I saw the tears form in her eye
I went as red as a beetroot and the others began to laugh
At my spoonerism which turned into a complete gaffe
The pudding it came quickly but I couldn’t wait to leave
I choked on every mouthful and my stomach it did heave
So please take notice of my error on this horrendous day
If you order sticky toffee pudding be careful what you say!
2nd February 2014
This was my first poem posted here and was is my first poem to be published in a book by United Press
Response Poem to Just Desserts
When I read my ‘Just Desserts’ poem, oh I made such a gaffe
I am petrified it will happen again and everyone will laugh
At home I have been practicing the correct words I have to say
To order sticky toffee pudding again will really make my day
We still go to this local restaurant for a tasty treat
I love the food they serve, it’s a lovely place to eat
But when its time to choose my dessert then I begin to shake
After my terrible Spoonerism I can’t make the same mistake
I smile sweetly at the waitress who comes to take my choice
Then clear my throat gently so I have a steady voice
I want to order sticky toffee pudding, the dessert of my dream
But I chicken out at the last minute and order an ice cream!
Contest - A response to My First Poem
Sponsored by Silent One
09~27~15
Shirley Brown was a very beautiful girl,
And her brunette hair
Hung down her back
And as the wind blew thru the window,
It waved around. It waved around.
She was making sandwiches,
And was packing them with fruit,
And two massive bars of fruit
And nut chocolate.
She lit a cigarette, picked up the basket,
And with a nod of her head,
Waved her hair backwards
And walked out the back door
Into the alley where,
Propped up against a fence
Was a blue mini-moped.
She mounted the bike,
And with a little trouble, started it.
And the rider made a sudden jump
As a horn blew behind her,
And a leather jacketed youth
Sped by on a butterfly motor-cycle.
People turned away
And the music blared on
And the youths talked on.
Then, a park keeper came
But the youths took no notice.
"What are you kids doing?"
The keeper shouted,
"I've had complaints from all over,
Clear off, wilya,
This is a park,
Not a meeting place
For all the Beatniks in San Francisco."
John Hemmings started dancing:
"Cool it, grandpa, get on,
Get going, don't bug me!"
The kids had gone too far
And they knew it.
Some of them turned away,
As the radio blared even louder,
Litter was scattered everywhere.
"I ain't chicken of dying,"
John Hemmings then said,
"We've got to go on,
ALL RIGHT! Who are the crumbs
Who want to chicken out at this point?
Just take your bikes and go.
We're free people now.
Nothing can stop us,
We'll rule the streets,
The young people will triumph."
He was perspiring wildly
And his black hair
Hung down his back.
It waved around. It waved around.
("For all the Beatniks of San Francisco" is based on extracts from one of my earliest
existent pieces of fictional writing, dating from when I was about 15 years old.)
Poetry notebook in my jittery hand, I vacillate
what if she finds it dull… obtuse…
beneath her... culturally insensitive?
What if she laughs at its pathos,
groans at its length,
smirks at its earnestness?
As I begin to falter, I ask myself
(denying all the aching echoes of indifference)
how much could it possibly hurt if she doesn't like it?
Could I ever forgive myself if I chicken out?
As my internal arguments fire torpedoes at each other,
she begins to walk away.
Incensed at my cowardice, I detect a gravitational pull
impelled by the bonfire of urgency
lit by a lightning bolt of past meltdowns
I take a step of infinite unknowingness, and clear my throat
"Hi, I'm in your writing class…
might I ask for a brief moment of your time?"
...silence.
She glances at my poem, then stares into my eyes -
stretched between two souls is an imaginary tightrope
leveling her balancing pole, she slowly smiles…
"I thought you'd never ask"
written 15 Mar 2022
The nocturnal routine call started but I was certain
There is fire along the mountain, yet don’t know
If I should run or wait, get water and quench it
I insisted that she share her feelings with me
For I can be trusted or I cut off the day’s duty
She bogged at last, “it wasn’t you or anything”
Then, what?, who is it or what is it in your mind?”
“My spirit is no longer down with the relationship
As I was praying, I felt my spirit no longer agrees”
I got lost on phone for I wasn’t thinking straight
My feet became very cold, yet my body was all hot.
“What did you just say? “ “I’m sorry, you heard me”
Well, break it down, I need to know all, tell me
At least why you’re stopping this dream and fantasy now
I can’t get it myself, please, I am confused . . .
But I still want you to come over as planned
Sorry, so that I can be embarrassed by you abi? No
You just said your spirit was negative about it
I said what did the Lord say about us? Sorry, about me?
Did HE say that I wasn’t good for you or that I’m fake?
Please, I’m sorry, just stop it now or else will cry . . .
I am waiting if that will make it clearer to me, talk to me
“Please, just come over, so that we can talk it over, please”.
Two and half hours gone by on this new puzzle
Still find it very unbelievable, me again on phone?
Quitting another relationship with me on phone
Within six months interval, Lord! Why me again?
“Talk it over and declare the relationship as being over
Or talk it over and see the darkness era being declared over! “
I will go and see her, will not chicken out at this stage.
Alayande Stephen T.
Monday 19th November, 2007
4.56am
The tangle continues, IBK unveiling new gears.
The goose cranes its neck in time to see egrets and cranes
chicken out from a furious fight over seeds and grains
against a rooster that fails to duck a crowbar blow
coming from an interfering, pro-egret, coward crow;
the hen cackles mad at such treachery, such foul play,
the crow's goose is cooked as she pecks her way into the fray,
she whacks him black and blue, she slaps him hard and good,
he flaps away, the henpecked crow of the neighborhood;
and when at last the noise and dust and feathers settle down,
it's clear to see who truly owns the barn battle crown,
not the limping rooster cast in plaster, it turns out,
but the hen with much to crow and be cocky about !
What if....?
Death was a lottery,
With a Powerball price of a million dollars
Will people still queue up to play?
What if death was a clock, and you had one option
To either fast forward, pause, or rewind it; What will your option be?
What if death was a bank, and one could advocate with it;
Request death forgiveness, death deferment, or death forbearance?
What about death refinancing or death equity?
What if death was like a touch tone phone
And one could put death on hold;
Press zero to bypass mesmerizing angels of death at the reception;
And pally or advocate directly with death?
What if death was a court,
And one could ask for an interlocutory injunction,
Or death arbitration, death adjournment or deferment?
What if death was a wish,
Will beggars still elect to ride, or bolt like Usain?
What if death was cash and carry,
Will the rich, high and mighty,
Be so generous with their cash, as they are to brand names like:
Ferrari, Bugatti and Louis Vuitton?
Or will they chicken out like a cold Turkey?
What if death was a rain check
Will people Queue up to cash in on it?
What if death was like a set of clothes
And one could change from it
Like a Snake discards it's old and worn out skin?
What if death was a marathon
Who would elect to first breast the tape?
What if death was a school or an exam,
And one could do a remediation, carry death over,
Select another elective, or take a death sabbatical?
What if death was an essential commodity
Would you put it on layaway
And make installment plan ?
What if death was a widow,
Will people still accept a widows mite? What if.....?
Seizing each moment to be kind,
Listen, empathy employ, hear her words,
Appreciate small yet enormous signs,
Respond yet not overwhelm,
Cements our being valentines!
Just hearing her breathing,
Comforts, loneliness resigns,
Kindly searching deeds, acting wisely,
With Hashem’s aid yields love genuine!
Receive ruminations, attend expressions,
Kindles cupid, life as a couple sublime,
Despite turbulent exceptions we eschew,
Renew kindly favor time after time,
Sensitive antennae align the benign,
Middos Tov, being a Mensch,
Grow a good eye that culls the fine,
Delving with heart into her druthers is song,
To courage not chicken out align,
Surrender poetry not “Poultry in Motion!”
You are my enemy-
the worst of your kind--
You push away people;
You chicken out.
You make fun and laugh
at things you shouldn’t.
You think horrible things
And silently you are truly afraid.
“Run, run!” I say-
Hide from all.
Your friends think you are kind, sweet and innocent.
Only I know your truth—
Because; dear enemy,
I am you.
For the first time,
I remembered my kids with pain,
when the bullets on metals ping,
as death was approaching with its sting.
My enemies,
they were determined,
and so was I,
three minutes was the time we had,
to leave someone with no head.
I fired one short,
just to warm my barrel,
for a cold one make a round stray,
leaving one on the plain as a prey,
with no hope but only words to pray.
Standing with my Ak47,
faith was my only fort,
no time to chicken out,
but to focus and employ my training,
then I slowly aimed my machine,
and yes, rounds went out marching,
taking them down one at a time,
but not all of them were wasted,
just when I was ready to seat and relax,
one of them wobbled up,
damn I had to take up my gun again.
Trump for Contempt Horn Haiku
Should Trump we pre-empt?
Or for everything exempt;
Jail him for contempt.
So what do you think?
Can he remove every kink
We end down the sink.
Lost cause he had been
Eaten up in lion's den;
Thank God and Amen.
Jim Horn
http://www.msnbc.com/rachel-maddow/watch/will-donald-trump-chicken-out-of-debates-736382531719?cid=eml_mra_20160802
So here I am, the saddest clown, I laugh away the pain,
Then once it's all been said and done, the pain she cries "too late"...
And so the paint, it reflects my frown towards all the crowd who laughs.
I slowly climb the long way up, with cycle and long staff.
I reach the top and watch the line, swaying to and fro.
It’s my last chance now to chicken out, but the saddest clown just goes
Unsteadily, at first it seems, he makes his way across.
Till finally he stops and stares, a moment he has lost.
Her beauty he sees, so clear and wondrous, lost inside her eyes
This still sad clown tries once to smile, but alas, it makes him cry...
He has no balance, no net to see, the crowd again just laughs
He’s cycling on the air it seems, but his wheel has just gone flat.
Again, unsteady, he tries his best, unknowing to those below
The memory ahead just floats, and more the line rocks, more...
He grasps ahead, but she just smiles, everything he once had
Has gone the way of everyone, and once again he’s sad.
And then he sees the mask is gone, his tears have washed away!
The world can see his ugly face, and unsteadily he sways.
Farther, farther, he reaches ahead, in hopes of being safe
But the flat tire refuses to turn, and fear streaks across his face.
As he slips, he watches her, so graceful and content
When suddenly from memory, the joy to him is sent.
Now down he looks, the juggler’s floor, it doesn’t seem so far.
Safety on the solid ground could never let him be the star….
So as he risks the perils above, to reach that vision pure,
He sees the world around him clear, the right choice he knows for sure…
The world grows loud, he can sense again, this figure gave him hope.
All he does is smirk towards her, and soon lets go the rope.
As he falls, he shows his smile, for all the crowd to see.
Then as she watches painfully, this once sad clown is free...
Someone once told me when I was afraid to show who I really was,
“To be not afraid of greatness, some are born great, some achieve great, and
some just have greatness thrust upon them,” Everyone is special, It’s whether
you choose to show your beauty,
Or keep it within yourself and let it drift away with your wondrous spirit.
It’s whether you say yes, or no.
It’s whether you take a challenge, or chicken out.
It’s whether your braver then the blind and cowardly.
It’s whether you stand up for yourself, or let your confidence fly away with your
happiness.
It’s whether you’re as strong as the wise or as scared as the bird that fly’s away
as someone walks toward it.
It’s whether you can stand up in front of the world and yell, “I am beautiful”, or
stand in the corner and hide like the rest of us.
The day has come for me to commit the ultimate act
With the voices in my head that I had formed a pact
I woke up early, had a hot shower in the dark
So my body would fell the cold as I lay in the park
I dress in my best suit perfect from head to toe
I take a bus to the spot that only My God and I know
I find the leaves and place them on the cold frosted ground
I look around to make sure no one is around
The leaves are perfect, I lie down
The ground is cold, I frown
Phew! Thought I forgot my letter, I place it on my chest
I’m almost at the end and at the beginning of my new quest
I’m looking at the willow tree
It looks rather sinister and twisted to me
Like a claw hand melted by the moon
How beautiful it looks, but this reality will be over soon
I feel this strange warmth running down to my ears
I haven’t cried for a long time, I welcome these tears
The voices, they not here, they have taken a vow of silence
Waiting to see me commit my act of violence
Clarity at last… all I can hear is my Juliet’s sweet voice
My Juliet…my mind’s best choice
I got the dagger, and put the tip a little under the solar plexus by my heart
It’s beating fast now, no time to fall apart
A noise, sh-t a man, who could this be
His casually walking toward me
I don’t need this, I’m ready to go
“Sorry to disturb you, hello”
“What do you want?”
“My name is Le’fant”
Please to meet you L’e what ever, go away”
“By all means do come back another day”
“Sorry may I join you”
“I’m here for the same reason too”
His lying next to me
Piss off and let me be
His also dressed up smart
Maybe he wants to take part.
Well at least he can do it in case I chicken out
I know he won’t mess about
“Sorry again could you read my note?”
“To make sure it’s perfect what I wrote?”
I got his note this is what it said
It’s making me feel dizzy in my head
Trump Chicken Out of Debate
Will we have to wait
Trump chicken out of debate
Further educate.
Jim Horn
C'mon, man, just smile and walk up to her,
don't be shy, you're now a grownup,
Bounce up a happy tune, be cool as a cat,
Surely, everything's gonna brighten up.
Don't you chicken out now, she's there,
so you better be there, don't hesitate,
If she smiles like she likes you too,
then, old boy, you're doin' just great.
So open up to her, don't be ashamed,
the first step should be yours to make,
Hoping for a helping hand is okay,
but love quietly knows which path to take.
You're now on your own, young man,
so trust yourself, you're good enough,
Really, all it takes is all you own up to,
it'll be okay, old chap, just be tough.