Best Squawked Poems
Humanity
The pagan pilgrimage, sun-worshippers frequently make
Latter-day phenomenon, take off on a Bronze Age break
Constellations change position, solstices realign
Tropic of Capricorn peaks, Cancer starts its slow decline
Astrologers reassure us, the end is not bespoke
Astronomers can’t sleep, has a supernova awoke?
Healthy cells deconstruct inexorably from their core
Runaway chain reactions, laying waste forever more
Be that as it must, cosmic cataclysms generate thrust
Comets are slightly nudged, on a collision course with us?
Ancients believed them omens, wraiths of impending slaughter
Those billion ton tailed curveballs, catalysed Earth with water
Modern man searches for answers, drowning in misnomers
Melding PhD honours, with chatbot E-diplomas
Teleporting entangled particles, throws back a hack
Time travelling marvel, rewinds the real Bronze Age back?
Absurdness seems lame, yet concomitantly germane
Hawking conserved energy, by merely using his brain
Newton had a bachelors, kept him celibate stable
He’d balls of steel for sure, alas no bearings on that cradle?
Information cannot be destroyed, only zeitgeists can
Synthesised is truth, in the malleable hands of man
Life’s more delicate, gravitas hidden behind a smile
Like tales that flightless birds, buried heads in denial
Ostriches evolved kick-ass legs, and win the biped race
They dig shallow pits in sand, not complex black holes in space
One squawked this revelation before zooming off to die:
“Humankind’s the sole species, with good reason to ask why”?
My parrots name was Captain Flint,
Boy that bird could swear.
I never invited visitors,
So blue was the air.
He'd squawk "pretty effing polly"
Or "give us a cracker you t##t"
I'd never heard such swearing,
I never taught him that.
I bought him off a sailor
Who was heading back to sea,
He said to me, "you'll love him
He's such good company."
And what he said was right
He entertained, it's true.
I said "who's a pretty boy then"
He squawked, " well not effing you !"
The profanities just got too much,
I sold him, with regret.
But the house seems so quiet now,
Without my 'effing' pet !
Have you ever met those kind of blokes who get upon your nerve,
when they quote continual references that most think should deserve
a threatening confrontation that if they make that quote again,
then the punishment that’s handed out will give them heaps of pain.
A gang of us were working down along the Main Drain stream,
clearing blackberries and willows on a governmental scheme,
and as usual on a Monday morn, weekend glitches are highlighted,
that are full of doom and gloom, and mostly are ‘beer blighted.’
For Clancy, Joe and me, we sort of blessed the doom and gloom,
as it transgressed into humour, and so there wasn’t any room,
for the likes of workmate Charlie who only saw a brighter side,
when there wasn’t any bright side; just a great gloomy divide.
Charlie is the eternal optimist with no matter what is said
in the ghastliest of circumstance even if someone was dead,
and Charlie only had one quote that we’re sure he did rehearse,
and so we heard it every time ‘It could have been much worse.’
So after work one evening in the pub we had some beers,
with ‘it could have been much worse,’ still ringing loudly in our ears,
and with Charlie being absent we devised a cunning plan,
to rid him of that bloody quote and then praying that we can.
We thought that as a perfect subject we would use our good mate Ted,
in a steamy sordid untrue yarn to get inside of Charlie’s head,
and have him shaking in his bootstraps, plus gulping in his throat,
to avoid us hearing one more time, his annoying bloody quote.
And so ‘it could have been much worse’ is about to get the chop,
as we cut and piled the prickly canes, of a large blackberry crop,
so when the time was ready, with Charlie well within ear shot,
Joe babbled out the sordid tale that was really ‘Tommyrot.’
“Did you hear about our old mate Ted, and what went on last night?
He caught his wife with Jimmy Hale, and there was a shocking fight;
he shot ‘em both and then himself!” But Charlie stayed quite calm but terse,
as he rolled a smoke and muttered out, “It could have been much worse.”
“Much worse!” We squawked as one... “How can it be worse than that?”
And the answer Charlie gave us… well it really knocked us flat,
after dragging on his cigarette, he sniffed and quietly said,
“If it had have been the night before, it’s me who would be dead.”
-honestly...I have no clue why...-
As I began to rest in my fickle dream
Suddenly I was stirred from my sleep
I was greeted by many a whisker
And petulant snores from my sister
The cat mewed ferociously and purred
For there on the other side of the window—was a bird!
It chirped like a wobbly siren—the ass!
And I swear by my bosom it was pecking the glass
Suddenly, I sprang up in alarm
I swear my bosom was gone!
The cat then motioned at the feathered brat
For her bright breasts seemed extra fat
Of course it wouldn’t have been that
But I couldn’t just blame the cat!
I opened the window only a crack
And asked very kindly, “May I have my breasts back?”
Such pride she attained from my bosom
Yet why? –how would she use ‘em!?
The mockingbird merely turned a goodbye
But the stolen twins were too heavy to fly!
She plopped to the ground and squawked
I would have laughed, but I was shocked!
The cat scratched at the window and with her eyes
Said, “Prithee, take your breasts—she’s mine!”
Before I could think I had fallen to the ground
To a booming, most terrible sound!
My eyes then opened to a cat on my head
As the booming sound continued from my sister’s bed
Hens and Roosters in the barnyard
living in symbiotic relationships
each searching for kernels of corn.
Taking turns with beaks they snip
scorned and pecked. What the heck?
How hard should it be to get along
even when some foul fowl are wrong?
Cockadoodle don't squawk at me...
Why can't you see
peace in the barnyard is a reverie.
Squawk squawk...scratch scratch
Roosters and hens don't get along
Farmer, unlock the gate latch
to free those who don't belong.
Don't scratch, peck and complain
when you don't garner fame.
There should be no pecking order
Don't point the finger of blame
when you don't know the root
from which the clawing came
or you'll feel the farmer's boot.
Don't be misled by words of ruse
from roosters or hens on the loose.
They're out to suck up the worm
in the early morning sun...
their charade has just begun.
Squawk squawk...scratch scratch
Roosters and hens don't get along
Farmer, unlock the gate latch
to free those who don't belong.
Don't tell me this is a fabrication...
of a chicken barnyard story.
This is merely an observation
of things that are not hunky-dory
Beware the fox, lurking near
feathers ruffled in the barnyard
Cockadoodle don't live in fear
of a fox, a wolf, a fraud.
Keep safe the eggs in your nest
Don't leave your children unguarded
Outwitting the fox is a test
One for which you'll be rewarded.
They squawked and squawked
scratched and scratched
Roosters and hens in the barnyard.
"Cockadoodle Don't Will Open the Gate,"
is the title to a new hen house song.
Where have they gone?
Where have all the commuters gone?
Said an old Fox nuzzling my hand.
I usually hide and sleep during the day,
Not that I’m complaining you understand.
Where have all the motor cars gone?
Thought a Hedgehog crossing the road.
Usually I must run for my life,
To reach safety and family abode.
Where have all the children gone?
Cried the Ducklings down on the pond.
We haven’t been fed for weeks,
Of that stale bread, we are so fond.
Where have all the vapor trails gone?
Squawked Jackdaw high in his tree.
When I was bored, I could count the lines,
On a good day, fifty-two or fifty-three.
Where have all the Rat poisoners gone?
Gnawed a large rodent leaving his drain.
I am free to infest all your houses,
Causing havoc and crazed panic again.
Where have all the hunters gone?
Cooed Game-birds flying free and high.
No lunatics beating the bushes,
Compelling us to be blasted from the sky.
Where have all the people gone?
Cheered the animals reclaiming their land.
We normally stay out of your way,
The world is ours now, do you understand.
A field trip to the new History Museum sounded like fun.
We boarded the bus as soon as the school day had begun.
I was excited, thinking seeing dinosaurs would be as cool
as Jurassic Park movies where the scary T Rex held rule.
I wandered off after eating lunch, looking for a bathroom
but the head I found was crowned with an orange plume.
I screamed! It squawked, and beady eyes stared at me.
Unable to move, I closed my eyes tight, so I wouldn't see.
I felt its warm breath on my neck and heard its wings flap.
My first instinct was to run, but I really needed to crap.
Sharp claws scratched the skin on my arms and my back,
then it screeched with a fiery roar that burned my backpack.
I fell to the ground, hoping it would think that I was dead
but I squinted enough to see the orange plume on its head.
It circled me twice, then flew away. To where, I didn't care
because I was alive, although it had scorched all of my hair.
No one believed my story, not even Mr. Tom, my teacher.
He said dinosaurs are extinct and I didn't see such a creature,
then rolled his eyes at me and I think he nearly went beserk
when I said, "and then a flaming pterodactyl ate my homework!"
January 29,2021
...and then a flaming pterodactyl ate my homework contest
Sponsored by: John Lawless
** SCENES FROM HOME **
The curtain wafts on an open-window’s breezing air, like liquid
Blue in the room, bringing beauty with magic’s tracing
The woman with her still raining, trickling water-streams
Over her calf as she lifts her leg out of the bath
Above the call, “Daughter!” to the girl running outside, her
Tresses and turquoise skirt flying up in a lunging wind
As a red squirrel leaps onto a chipping-painted windowsill
To dig all through a neglected flowerbox, while he’s squawked at
By a blackbird, bowing over her nest, keeping watch
Nearby where there emanates the enchanting sound of piano
Nocturnes that the son (in rolled-up shirtsleeves) nicely plays
While a ping-pong ball rolling, clacks across the cellar floor,
Beguilling the cat into a frenzied attempt to seize her prey
At the hallway’s end, Grandma asks a mirror about her appearance.
“Is there a flower fairy to bring a blooming loveliness to my age?”
Mirror, ready to answer, “Just look! Radiance grows inside every day.”
But, the answer on-coming, found Grandma, chin-on-hand, fast asleep.
————————————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 7/14-15/2023
Thanks be to God—-
A baby bird fell from a tree
Right in front of mini-me,
He tried to fly but every lift
He fell back down and ran quite swift.
The mother of the baby bird
Fed it’s beak upon the earth,
Guiding it back up the tree
Then there was another three…
Birds…
The baby bird heard family calls
Climbed up and up with many falls,
Head held high it squawked *cheep cheep*
Then baby bird fell fast asleep.
Mini Me brought water fast
For H20 out there is vast,
Seeds we placed upon the tree
To help the birdie family.
What can we do? not much more
for birds that are so premature,
The dear little thing; our new feathered friend
To the sky you will transcend.
It did not crack,
it groaned.
It did not fall all at once,
it shook itself like a wet dog,
it stood on invisible toes
like a dancer.
It twisted to look behind it,
then knelt briefly
sliding down its own shadow.
There was, of course, a crash
but it was muted
as if the earth caught it,
then rocked it gently for a moment
as the leaves rattled.
Birds stopped singing.
You would think
they would have squawked
or flown away,
but they just stopped.
Killington Mountain, one of the largest Ski resorts in New England.
With its webbing of trails, dotted with colourful kaleidioscopic ski outfits;
racing to the Castle they call a Base Lodge.
My Cabin is atop a mountain across two valleys from Killington's backside
I can see the untamed, wild and free side of Mother Nature's: True being
Where deers have no fears, and the Bald Eagle soars Free
I once did a recue mission there, and when all were safe, I walked
Into the forrest of Nature,where mankind had never before intruded
I walked where the Deer, Bed. where the eaglets squawked for food
I saw the Black Bear awake; "Good Morning Mrs. Black Bear"she Yawned
And walked away.I heard the Evergreens giggle as melting snow ticked Pines
The Serenity,Tranquility,enveloped me in Nature's Wonder of the World.
Inspired by Linda(PD) with her Contest: 7 Wonders of the Ancient and
New World. This POEM is one of my 7 Wonders.
This is Dedicated to all POETS who have written about the Autrocitys of
Mankind to " Nature or THE Beauty of Mother Nature in Rhyme "
This is not a Contest Entree
An owl sat on our tree outside, and Dragon was completely mesmerized.
So Dragon ask what was his name, and Who was all that he devised.
Dragon said YOU, you silly bird; it’s YOUR name, which I want to know.
And again he got the answer… It was Who… Now, wouldn’t you know?
Now Dragon’s not a patient sort, so said… WHAT do you think of that!
Humpf!… If he won’t tell me his name, then I think I’ll call him Kersplat!
Who, said the owl again! Now, Dragon had began to become steamed.
Silly ninny! I named you the perfect name, ‘Kerslpat’, and he beamed!
Now, here Dragon realized that perhaps he needed to be, a bit more nice.
His words seemed limited, perhaps it wasn’t meant, as a mean device.
Now a crow came to the branch, and sat by the owl with a decisive bow.
The crow spouted, What? And Dragon ask: Are you here to help me Now?
What! came the answer from the crow, as the owl added another WHO.
Honestly, said Dragon! All I wanted, was to know your names, it’s true!
The crow’s hard of hearing, thought Dragon, as he suddenly realized…
Not everyone’s as fortunate as he, so he shouted loudly, as he theorized…
What’s YOUR name, he shouted! I’m tired of getting, NO good reply.
So he would call the crow What, and the crow squawked What! Oh my!.
Then little Whip Poor Will came and sat beside them, very, close and such.
When asked, he said Whip poor Will, so Dragon thanked him, very much!
Your name is Poor Will, but I won’t whip you, you deserve a gentle touch.
A Mocking Bird stopped by and Dragon introduced all his friends, as such.
The owl’s ‘Kersplat’, ‘What’ can’t hear, and ‘Poor Will’ are all my friends.
What’s your name little bird? For I’m Dragon, and you, I would befriend.
At that moment, I left the house saying Hello to Dragon and all those about.
The Mocking Bird sang: Dragon’s to Whip Poor Will, Mocks What can’t hear,
And wants to Kersplat Who! Blurting it out!
I dislike violence, so I sent Dragon to a timeout, in quick response, no doubt!
And I heard Dragon mutter, as he walked away, I now know what the term…
Bird Brain is all about!
The cedar towered above the shingled roof,
Its tapered branches hiding squirrels and birds
until the day when Hugo swept the hills
uprooting poplars, whipping wind-wilted
leaves against the parlor window.
The cedar fell, its prodigious bulk
flattened against the sodden earth.
For years it lay along the gravel drive.
The neighbor though we ought to cut
the cedar into pieces--use the oval slabs
for stepping stones or perhaps for firewood.
The gard'ner groaned and said it was a nuisance.
One summer day we thought to drag it off
to slice away the limbs, the falling needles.
But the honeysuckle had wound around the trunk
as if to say how much it was not in the way.
A chameleon slithered, dark against the trunk,
a ground sparrow squawked and fluttered in alarm
while chipmunks hurried to guard a nut-filled hole.
We put the chain-saw in the shed
and planted flowers in the tangled roots.
A cedar tree, after all, is indestructible...
~In Halloween’s moonlight as fog lifted,
the maiden of gloom appeared on her broom.
Lilura revealed as the fog drifted,
her broom made eerie sounds of murky vroom.
~The maiden of gloom appeared on her broom,
as she screeched, “Aren’t I the most perfect peach?”
Her broom made eerie sounds of murky vroom.
With eerie sounds of speech, the wench did screech.
As she screeched, “Aren’t I the most perfect peach?”
I said, “Return to east, you gruesome beast!"
With eerie sounds of speech, the wench did screech.
Foul stench of this wicked wench would not cease.
~I said, “Return to east, you gruesome beast!”
She hissed, she retorted , “I’m a beauty!”
Foul stench of this wicked wench would not cease.
She hissed, and she squawked, the festered snooty
~She hissed, she retorted, "I'm a beauty!"
Lilura revealed as the fog drifted.
She hissed, and she squawked, the festered snooty.
In Halloween’s moonlight, as fog lifted.
=====================
By John Moses Freeman
For and in honor of Russell Sivey
And Contest: Halloween Fun
The biggest cock I have ever saw
Was coloured a sort of red, feathers
all around its base and little spots
on skinny head
It stood erect for all to see that hens
Might come to play, and soon these
Feathered concubines, in pleasure
Squawked to sway
And big cock resting eyes half-closed
The day’s now peaceful find, with catty
Girls now pecking round and next time
On their mind
So if you see a cock quite large with
Trembling jerking head, take him quiet,
With hens and all, to comfy warming shed.