July inTexas,
it’s hotter than a jalapeño
doing laps in cowboy boots~
so hot the cows are fanning themselves
with old election leaflets;
so hot the armadillos
are applying sunscreen in the shade.
But the farmers have it worst of all,
their chickens are panting in the coop~
so they’re feeding them crushed ice daily
to keep things cool and sane,
because one more scorching afternoon
and those hens will start producing
breakfast ready-made:
hard-boiled eggs straight from the nest,
no stove required.
rainbow chick has a happy dance that makes us laugh
The whole barnyard is aware of it, and the zoo’s giraffe
because he is here on a foreign exchange visa, you see
See that crazy chick? She is dancing toward thee
Fuzzy fluff is in style
Yellow chicks yellow smile
Eating worms so wild
¥ ¥
••
(((((()))))//
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peep-peep, yellow fluff tumbles from eggshell— spring's first exclamation point!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We carried them home in shoeboxes
poked with air holes,
our fingers trembling
against pastel fluff~
yellow as buttercups,
blue like faded denim,
pink like bubblegum
stuck under our beds.
They cheeped in chorus,
a sound so small
it could drown in a rain puddle.
We named them
after cartoon characters,
after dead grandmothers,
after whatever sweetness
we could scrape from our imaginations.
By Monday, the dye ran in their water dish,
streaking their feathers into something
less magical, more real.
We didn’t know
they’d outgrow the colors,
that their feet would twist
from walking on newspaper,
that no one’s mother
would let them stay.
The grocery store manager
just shrugged,
his apron smeared
with something unnamable.
Take ‘em, he said.
They’re free.
you may read the accompanying memoir vignette at: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/peep_peep_baby_chicks_13614
There was a fanciful maid
who joined the Easter Parade
about whom if I could
a poem I would pen
then again
a whimsical sonnet
with an egg or two
and chicks but a few
on her favourite Easter bonnet
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.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once were three chicks: Ally, Babba, and Louise
They wanted to go hiking, but each had problematic knees.
“Oh our knees are so weak,
Oh our torn cartilage” they shrieked.
We’ll go to the mall, rent a Segway, if you please.”
Ally, Babba, and Louise were quite bold and astute,
To the mall they went, in feathery pursuit.
A Segway they hired,
Then, onward, inspired,
To Cheesecake Factory before hiking, toot-toot-toot-toot!
But then the menu appeared! Oh what to do?
Chicken was on the menu, a feathery stew.
Waitress served them chicken ragout
Frightened, their faces turned blue.
"Good heavens!" they cried. “Let’s get outta here. "Coo-coo-coo!"
She is every woman,
Bringing love to her man,
She shares erotica,
Ever so wundebar,
She is wife to all men,
Loving chick in his zen,
She can birth, she can bleed,
Cook, nurse, love indeed,
She has the ear of God,
Ere power walk over sod,
She is every woman,
Hope you wave that fan!
Bursting, breaking free from egg shells with glee
Baby chicks welcome their blest endowed worth
Amidst mother Earth’s radiating mirth
Ready to frolic in the pond --- there they flee.
Cheerful in their sunny color delight
Ducklings quack, inviting attention gain
While they wobble gladly, devoid of strain
Traversing terrain midst their dancing flight.
As water fowls of playful swimming zest
Ducks and chicks showcase aquatic tactic
Boasting splash-technique, indeed fantastic
Designed by God* with His creative best.
*Genesis 1:20 And God said, Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving creature that hath life, and fowl that may fly above the earth in the open firmament of heaven.
May 31, 2025
7th place, "Let's Do The Chicken Splash" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose; judged on 6/11/2025
We love playing in the street
To escape the summer heat
On this day we walk to the park
Feeding chicks who stole our hearts
Suddenly the weather did change
We got caught shoes off in the rain
No need to fret for the animals don’t
Not upset we sing a rainy day song
Splash splash near the duck pond
They take a bath as we carry on
Find a double puddle to splash in
Left foot right foot jump and grin
There’s a rainbow in the sky
And we make great mud pies
A bright day and there’s still sun
Dancing in rain we have much fun
Three of the utmost sassiest chicks I ever did see
Were Bluey, Red, and the notoriously cutey Blondie
They wiggled their tail feathers, causing rooster to turn red.
He was their embarrassed daddy, this big guy, named Fred.
Why do you act like such harlots, I asked them one day
We like to tease the other roosters; it is our way to play
They never settled down, stayed single all of their lives.
A good thing probably, they would have made terrible wives.
Woody the pigeon
Lives in the tree
Can you imagine
Such a glee
A lifetime partner
To share his days
With eggs to father
That his girl layed
Woody the pigeon
Shared his tree
With beautiful imogen
The girl he needs
The little eggs hatch
Out pops thier chicks
Hunting worms to catch
For his broods fix
Woodys family nest
Up in the tree
Is simply the best
Lifetime for he
Dead
petals
dropping down
with the soft wind
~fall on a black bird~.
It sings nicely
admiring
Its chicks'
life.
"We are cute spring chicks with fluffy feathers that keep
us warm; real small, like to run, and we are adorable ! "
Quote by _Constance
On a bright morn spring chicks hatched,
as the first flowers of the season bloomed;
oddly, not a single chick matched,
their fluffy feathers delightful plumbs.
Each was silly, playful and gay,
they would run every which way;
often, they wandered the barn yard going astray.
Those sweet chicks had no fear,
sometimes, suddenly they would just appear;
and to their mother would adhere.
So whimsical and frivolous to watch,
and almost impossible to catch;
I love each fluffy chick's feathery splotch,
and have a favorite that I call Butterscotch.
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