Stumbling along the worn down pine,
Clamoring like a babe against floor and a table leg
I found the stool to shame all other stools.
Propping my bony bottom atop
Like a laggardly old lion,
Done with denunciation,
Dismal and downgraded,
While awaiting the minstrel's mentions
of a certain sort of sustenance.
"I have here for you soup
My little lamb."
Yet a lion here I sit!
With letters here I writ!
While in my bowl
She spills the same.
Despite my place.
Despite my name.
I take a spoonful
Maybe more.
My taste buds take off
Beyond flavor's shore.
I've now flown the coop
Just for poetry's soup.
We sent robots and rovers to Mars!
What if the little green critters out there
returned the compliment
and sent their hackers and AI gadgets
to invade us marked
'X' open at your own peril!
The musky Blue Bird
has flown the coop
scared off by alien Mr X.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop,
my bones, and joints won’t listen to my commands.
I spend most of my days picking up dog poop.
Don't get me wrong I'm happy to be in my age group,
I must admit I'm not fond of these wild grey strands.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop.
Sometimes I play bingo with an amazing silver troop,
but I miss dancing to live music and big bands.
I spend most of my days picking up dog poop.
Or talking to my friend Flo who gives me the scoop,
I long to take several trips to faraway lands.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop.
As I sit daydreaming, I snap to; hubby is a big snoop
What am I to do when life and age make demands?
I spend most of my days picking up dog poop.
In the end, I feel youthful although I can’t hula hoop,
I'm ok as I stare at these wrinkled old hands.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop,
I spend most of my day picking up dog poop.
05/4/2023
Contest: “Y” Challenge Words
Sponsor: Constance La France
"Daughter," "laughter," do not rhyme but ought to.
Pure squeals of joy ring out from every door.
For surely graced by God is the man who
Has daughters in the house forevermore!
Blessed indeed, for girls have I in plenty;
With Carrys, Laura, Gwen, they come in threes.
Olga too, but not till way past twenty;
No dad could ever ask for more than these!
Alas, they've flown; the coop is quiet, bare.
Yes, life is good, but not as much alive.
Sometimes I check the rooms, find nothing there.
Was that a car that pulled into the drive?
The door’s flung wide; I go outside to see
More precious girls: Maid Marion and Ree!
So, what is Plan “B”?
Plan “ A” has gone the way
of the Dodo – the pigeon
who has flown the coop,
became Thanksgiving for
the hawk.
Plan “A” vote them out –
requires honest elections.
Plan “A” bound by the
courts, our US Constitution –
they don't care. So what is
plan “B” if Americans are
to remain A People Free!?
Walking on eggshells,
with left-over scratches,
Brave little chick
into the world hatches...
managed to scramble away with a limp--
those eggshells, (and mama)
did a number on Shrimp.
Fifty years after, mama's still kicking,
pecking Shrimp's feathers off,
when no one's looking--
Some of her feathers are plucked to the bone-
her skin is bleeding,
she feels so alone.
Mama, she swore that ol'
Shrimp was an odd one,
just a non-Certifiable, sad
Family Problem.
Why, Shrimp was a Horrible, terrible Liar,
such a Bad chicken,
(and an awful flyer!)
But despite the hate,
Shrimp flew higher!
"We can't have that!!"
shrieked the old chicken, cackling
"Let's give her some
Chicken scratch,
and send this one packing!"
Shrimp walked away sad,
but then she got better,
She knows she's not bad,
(despite the mean letter.)
Yes, despite the hate,
Shrimp grew bigger!
"We can't have that!!"
squawked the old chicken Liver,
"I'll give Shrimp her
Chicken scratch,
and give her the boot!"
but Shrimp's feathers shine brighter,
now that she's flown the coop.
The hens have flown the coop
Their owner mystified
He hit them with his silver spoon
Didn't know they had pride
And now as folks leave Illinois
Governor Pritzker, take a think
From the tap of the hen-owner
You should no longer drink
Mrs. Robin, busy as a bee
visits my home's skylight annually
She builds a nest there carefully
her private retreat, only I can see
She commandeers my yard militarily
hopping to and fro imperiously
Ever seeking bark or twig assiduously
to feather her penthouse more comfortably
A half-dozen blue eggs she lays surreptitiously
Settling down over them protectively
Sheltered from the elements so cunningly
She awaits their hatching expectantly...
One day, her chirpings' cease, inevitably
Mrs. Robins' dreams realized successfully
She's flown the coop, perforce happily
Her nest, forlorn ~ stares at me emptily
July 10, 2020
Bird Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance
Grandma’s Flown the Coup!
Has anyone here seen Grandma?
We’ve been searching high and low
It’s time she joined the seniors’ home
Burt she doesn’t want to go
She packed up all her make-up
Paid her Botox bill in full
Her kids think she should act her age
She thinks that that’s bull!
Her hair salon is worried
Her dye job is almost due
She comes like clockwork every week
They’ll miss the revenue
The old age club is miffed
She never joins the group
And tries to lure the rest of them
To come and fly the coop!
Last week she went dancing
And partied all night long
Then someone handed her a mike
And she sang a bawdy song
Please help us to find Grandma
She’s getting much too bold
She decided she’s too young for us
For she’s never growing old!
Copyright© 2004 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)
Butti the tortoise from the zoo has flown the coop
Your brother Tutti misses you, you little poop
On you there is a large bounty
If found in El Paso County
Hope you don't end up as a bowl of turtle soup
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
This is based on a true story. Butti came up missing at the Colorado Springs
Cheyenne Mountain Zoo, 27 Mar 2011. He and his brother, Tutti, are Indian
Star tortoises. Suspicions are that some miscreant pocketed him and strolled
away since he was about the size of a grapefruit and weighed about a
pound. Coincidentally, a river otter named Kitchi, escaped from the same zoo
a few months ago and has never been found. If interested you can read the
saga of Kitchi in my poem of the same name. Will keep you posted!!
Poor old Chicken Licken's not the brightest little bird
Keeps coming up with theories that are clearly quite absurd
He got hit by an acorn, and to laugh would be a sin
But our little feathered friend believes, the sky is falling in
He’s running round the farmyard telling everyone his tale
“We must inform the government and do it without fail”
Rounding up some other birds to join him on his quest
Picking just the fittest, disregarding all the rest
The Goose and Turkey Lurkey led this brave deluded ring
As they marched into the night so they could go and tell the King
Poor old Chicken Lickens brain has really flown the coop
The way he carries on he’s going to end up in the soup
No longer can you break me to pieces,
Rip me apart infront of those I love,
You can’t get to me and that must drive you crazy,
I’m a better person than you will ever be,
Success is definitely the best revenge,
I spent years despising myself,
Just to realise the one who is ill is you,
I should hate you,
But I don’t,
I pity you,
For you must have had somethink,
Really bad happen to you,
For you to end up like that,
The bird has flown the coop,
Never shall it return,
To the hell it once came from,
For that is now dead and buried for all eternity.
HEADLINES FLASHING!
NEWS CASTS BLARING!
Sparrow found guilty of killing Cock Robin with his little bow and
arrow!!!!!!!!!!!!! Judge to announce sentence!!!
"Since you admit killing Cock Robin, I sentence you to twenty years for
poaching. Officer take this prisoner away."
HEADLINES FLASHING!
NEWS CASTS BLARING!
THE SPARROW HAS FLOWN THE COOP!
Another ponder day came by
And looked me right square in the eye.
I just sat and with a sigh
Grabbed my pencil and began to write.
The sky is blue dotted with white
The grass was green but turned brown over night.
The flowers all droop out on my stoop
Another summer's flown the coop.
Then the winds began to blow
Followed by white flakes of snow
I closed my eyes and began to dream
Of tomorrow's brand new painted scene,