Best Hen Party Poems


Premium Member Feminism Is a Rubber Chicken - Repost

hen party
                walk of shame

             your worth in eggs


                       ***

Men

We're grouped together ready to party 
just standing around waiting for the coach.
Not a stag do exactly, just us men.
Before you ask, it wasn't fancy dress.
A football Friday night out for a drink,
one or two, possibly looking for sex. 
 
I certainly wasn't looking for sex, 
no women allowed in this lad’s party.
Tam who’s just arrived is getting a drink,
he’s our mate and first team footballing coach.
Back from a wedding rehearsal; full dress.
So he’ll be glad; being back amongst the men.
 
We arrive at a pub heaving with men;
just a handful of the opposite sex. 
God knows who came up with this **** address.
It isn’t lively enough to party.
We agree that we’ll get back on the coach,
however, Tam bought us all one more drink.

At the next pub I get the lads a drink,
‘Okay,’ I say to them, ‘It’s my round, men,’
and hand three pints of lager to the coach.
My thoughts absentmindedly turn to sex,
when I look towards a crowded hen party
and see a girl in a skimpy red dress.

‘Check out the girl, in the little red dress,’
I say to Liam, passing him his drink.
‘I’d love to get an invite to that party.’
‘Aye well, you, me, and the rest of the men;
thoaght you wurny interested in sex?’
he says, as we watch her approach the coach.
  	
It’s half past two; the last round’s on the coach. 
He’s fondling the girl, his hands up her dress.
‘Jesus man, go outside if you want sex,’
I say, ‘It’s your round; last orders for drink.
I’ll be up there with the rest of the men.’
The bar closes; it’s the end of the party.

I board the coach with the rest of the men.
It was a good party, plenty to drink,
and Tam’s having sex wearing the red dress.
© John Prior  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Hen's Lockdown Is Lifted

The Avian Flu is over.
Time for a change of scene.
The barn doors slowly open.
We feel comforted by the green.

Us chicks will have adventures.
We'll slurp some slimy things.
We'll cluck along in unison
With the choir that has wings.

We'll nestle in long chunks of grass.
Shadows will cool us in the sun.
Each day will be a hen party
And we'll have lots of fun!

We'll tease the sheep with pecking
'Til they head-butt us away.
Our hearts will be light as our feathers.
We'll chuckle. And we'll play.

Other outdoor creatures
Will think that we're insane,
For we will keep exploring 
While they shelter from the rain.

Our nights feel more restful.
We dream of what we see.
Our lockdown has been lifted.
Though there are fences, we are free!


The Chaste Chicken

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!

Premium Member Feminism Is a Rubber Chicken

hen party
                                             walk of shame

                                          your worth in eggs







***

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