Drift away
I look at the night sky
It's dark and its broody
Clouds all surrounding
Choking the moon
I know how it feels
To be surounded in darkness
I know how it feels to be all alone.
Why would the fluffys hold on so tightly?
Don't they know,
We have to live free?
Strangles and tangles shut out our feelings,hide in the corner
I just want to be me.
Someday they'll love me,
just as I am me,
Maybe I'll drift away
Just like the Moon .
TaH
The dull day dashed quietly,
On track of bursting seconds,
When I met a sad broody hen,
In bizarre twist, she seemed anxious.
Alarmed; I stretched near swiftly,
Her growls stirred my soft pulse,
When two hawks briskly took off; then,
A brood; blacks, browns, rose from grass.
In despair, they chirped sharply,
She surged, sighed, resumed her chores,
At once, she saw several; missed one,
And fled the hostile field in disgrace.
At all she cursed the twins, fiercely,
For they, it's just but dusk snacks,
Rare in such a savannah, so stubborn,
A prey ceased even before a torn slice.
A fair fortune in absurd fragility,
How foul to dare steal her success,
The chicks too naive; but not inane,
To think it's better in the safety of shells.
My shaky waves saved the family,
Joyfully I leave; but still her loss,
Now an equivocal tie; who's to gain,
The grassland weaves its lowly issues.
Mr. Dee, the down and out, downcast, downhearted cat
broody, moody, gloomy and in no way fat
dejected, rejected, chased off by some
oppressed, depressed, droopy and rather glum
could not trust people after he was thrown away
buoying him up now is my brilliant cat-loving Aunt Fay.
Want an easy lay?
said the rooster to the hen
He was being straight
she had gone quite gay
and could lay in any
position she wanted
except sideways
She did it in the coop
mostly around the hay
Not once a month
on any given day
she only dwells
for a moment
when a hand takes
her lays away
Instead of clutching at straws
She’s up for life today
never produces a chick
Sits on eggshells
it beats the tray
Broody little thing
I like her type
sunny side up anyway
By
David Kavanagh
I want
Is “I want” our right to take,
To break a heart will be too late,
For every broody wanting thought,
Is it better to abort.
They do not ask to play this game,
If granting wishes was the aim,
The game of life they’re summoned to,
With no choice but to see it through.
Would they want the chance to love,
And smile up at us above,
If along with love came war and hate,
To shadow them till heavens gate.
A selfish want is all we need,
To take the steps to sow a seed,
But is it fair to make a choice,
For a future child without a voice.
The questioned balance of good and bad,
Was answered in a dream I had,
The family dream will have to wait,
Our want is in the hands of fate.
If a baby does not grow,
Is there a reason we should know,
To create a child in this world is crazy,
Yet we still want a little baby.
I love you more than words can say,
And hand in hand we take each day,
To be loved by us ‘ their mom and dad’,
Has answered any doubt I had.
Footles, as one, regarding Spring by Sandro Botticelli
Sandro
Does Know:
Venus-
Genus
Darkened,
Starkened
West wind
Chlore sinned;
Shrewd glance,
Now dance
Bough, her
Flower;
Three Grace
At base
Bypass
Time sass,
Laurels
Morals
Orange grove,
Bee soave;
Broody-
Nudie
Looks left,
Bereft,
Cupid,
Stupid
As love
Above
High arts,
Babe farts
Passion's
Rations.
March 18, 2023
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1200 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Blackberry briar bounds the river: a curb
o’er the levee’s curve; a thorny imbroglio
under which twitters sing in broody milieu
Naught but the resilient do venture within
daunting vine bent in asperity, weathered
Little flyers fluff the brusque in a love filial
In wee caresses, stringent opens soft eyes
Silken white, touched in palest pink, winks
Sweet, sweet, they tweet, for a juicy bliss…
(8/7/2022)
I think your package was delivered today
left by a stranger from a cold lonely
truck, left on a broody day when you need tea
we must look at it as our contribution
to life that seems crazy— a kind of ablution
though we stay in our walker and wheelchair
as we listen and watch a world that we hear and we share
and the world seems to grow more gloomy and sad
we can only do so much from home and on a keypad
I once was out and about knocked on doors
went to meetings, signed petitions galore
God now I feel like sitting in my house what a crone
just tv, doctor appts, a phone, and so alone
sending a reminder that life was a comical ad tragic and funny
something to send to a friend something chummy
something to moan and groan about and accept it as life
the craziness and cruelty the kindness and the strife
something with rhymes that is funny for a friend
so the book I read and thought about -- to you I send
Hope you enjoy trumpty dumpty
Archie Bunker
A good ol' boy,
Opinionated and moody,
He tended to be broody.
Edith Bunker
Was Archie's wife.
With a cheerful outlook she fought his strife.
The one bright spot in Archie's life.
ALL IN THE FAMILY
in a far away sleep I recognise her from before she never disappoints me though she was never truly mine we sit on the grass in the park eating my mother’s favourite sweet peanut brittle and searching the free ads there is nothing I need then we laugh at the private and confidentials the girl asks me if I have ever truly loved someone then places my hand on her chest swimming through the best of her I am one of the cool kids I see places I will never go to I sit on violence like a broody hen then she wishes me luck when I come up for air
I went into the garden to feed the chook
The bird gave me a very nervous look
It knew it would have hell to pay
If she had no more eggs to lay
SNOW BIRD
In the dead of winter comes great beauty,
with broody storms and the elegant snow.
The hoarfrost spears hang icy and fluty,
like aliens in guise as they stretch and grow.
Crisp raw are the branches rasping the sky,
as wind comes in a bluster to disturb.
The shadow creatures den under the sigh,
from the deadweight of snow they perturb.
The beauty is sparse and simply at peace,
a waltz in winter that comes on the fly.
The white blizzard storm, we know it will cease,
stopped by the echo of red bird’s soft cry.
Ruby in starlight with ice on his wing,
red bird dreams of Sun and the thaw in spring.
December 5th, 2019
Your Best Sonnet July-December, 2019 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Tasting on goody almondy
escape into broody
Felt moody
I'm nobody
life a parody
cared? nobody.
laughed? everybody.
I don't want tragedy
neither comedy
no people of shady,
no clings of needy,
but a buddy
who is not noddy,
a life almost steady
like somebody.
Love's essence turned into vapour
And flew into a bottle of perfume,
Wear me,
Said it,
As it sunk deeper into the glass bottle,
Taking in its shape
Moulding itself with it!
Wear me
Every single day of your life
Wear me
As
Someday,
It shall all be over!
Life shall sparkle with stardust
And universes
Which the human mind can conceive not
Will paint themselves
In the cosmos
Merely
To have you amazed and cheerful
As kids are
At Christmas time!
Wear me
As you wake up
And face the day,
Dark and broody
As stones fall from clouds!
Wear me
As you gaze at vipers
And return their sweet smile!
Wear me
As you walk
Barefoot
On paths on which nails
Have been planted!
Wear me
As I am here
To remind you
That life on Earth
Remains a punishment!
Here,
You shall have to keep struggling
Regardless of what happened before
You shall have to keep suffering
As such is what the skies willed for you
And,
If you claim to love them,
Then,
Wear me
And accept it all
With a smile
As,
Like my fragrance
Everything else shall last only for a while!
Written on 21st August 2019
About fish
Something made me think of fish
not those in tanks which life must be boring
swimming around and around
until tired and resting at the bottom
wondering how to get out of this watery trap
Do fishes think or is it all instinct?
Say, two codfish meeting each other on the coast
of Greenland: hi, their old mate hasn’t
seen you around for a while? No, I met an escaped
farm salmon, but it didn`t work out
It got broody wanted to swim upstream
being a bachelor, I took my farewell and escaped.
Chased and being chased that’s life
a proper fish instead takes its chances rather than
living in a glass tank
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