Long Chicken Poems
Long Chicken Poems. Below are the most popular long Chicken by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chicken poems by poem length and keyword.
Stray Cat
The old lady on the corner,
spends her last dollar on cat food.
She does not concern herself about tomorrow,
only the fact there are kittens under the porch.
They will need to eat.
They will all need new homes.
A friend calls, she has nowhere to stay.
She is sleeping in her car.
She is in a bad way.
Her husband beat her up…
The kid are with a friend…
The old lady smiles…
One more kitty cat…
Come on in.
Another friend, of a friend…calls!
A stranger really, by all accounts.
There has been a fight,
Things are worse than tight…
nowhere to run, there was even a gun.
Drugs, foul abuse, and things unspoken…
Her love of Kat’s only a token.
Kitty, kitty, come on by.
The cat woman sweetly grins
She makes some rice,
and warm chicken soup…
with simple can meat.
All spread thin,
between those gathered…
None complained.
A pair of eyes glowed in pitch darkness
Like two emeralds set on a black foil
My black cat paced across the doorway
Her tail, curled at her back like a coil
With soft steps, she crossed the aisle
And ventured out looking for a prey
She didn't meow or make any sound
Outside the house she opted out to stray
Our home with its premises was her domain
With glowing eyes that were cold as ice
She padded up and down the drive way
Looking for some unsuspecting mice
The night was still and not a leaf fluttered
The moon was a paling silver disc in the West
In her sharp ears, fell the faint sound
Of the nuzzling of fledglings in a nest
Sensing there was chance to spot a prey
Agile and alert she looked around
Down she slid along the steep wall
Following the trail of that faint sound
She arched her back into a curve
And moved closer and closer to the hedge
She saw three birdies like dressed chicken
Snuggling in an open nest at the edge
Bare of plumage, they were like pieces of flesh
And too young for fight or flight
Their mother had sadly flown away
Never expecting them to be in such a plight
The cat carefully raising itself on hind legs
Poised bristling for the measured kill
With claws sharp, she pounced upon her prey
And in a second all was silent and still
Unable to flap their wings or make a sound
They yielded to the needle claws of steel
When the mother bird alights with worms in her beak
Who can gauge the depth of pain she would feel!
Placed First
March.27. 2022
Black Cat Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Robert James Liguori
My mom
one of six daughters
a wild one not easily tricked
or oppressed
if she hears no she says what who and why
she makes noise when expected to be silent
the black sheep of the family
fire and fury in her veins
a rebel
ready to protect
Her beautiful voice
she can sing
I know because her
song beats in my memory
She can cook too
memorable french fries her grandchildren boast
fluffy mashed potatoes only a few granddaughters can replicate
Fried chicken not sure if this recipe was passed down
and the homemade tortillas mm mm good a necessity but a treat for us kids
so much more
but for me my mom gave me the gift of faith
My mom unique and my one only true Love.
Is your go-to lunch roast beef sandwich?
Tomorrow you might want turkey instead
Here is why
In gen. red meat- such as roast beef
Not as healthy as other kinds of protein
Tends to have more cholesterol
Often has more saturated fat
Both things are bad for your heart
Eating too much red meat
May linked to colon cancer
This does not mean
You should never eat beef or other red meats
Just go easy on them
Tasty Swaps
With
Tacos
Try
Fish or chicken
With hamburgers
Try Veggie burgers
With Stir-fry
Try Fried tofu
With lasagna
Try Eggplant slices
With salad
Try tuna or broiled egg
With Breakfast
Try turkey or soy links
With Casserole
Try lentils and rice
With Chili
Try beans (canned or dried)
With Dinner entrée
Try Roast turkey (baked or broiled)
With sandwiches and wraps
Try grilled chicken or hummus
4142013
A is for amber ambition and amethyst dreams
B is for believing in yourself and becoming
C is for creativity courage and celebrating
D is for developing Deja vu and dancing
E is for engaging and encouraging
F is for fun flavor and fulfilling
G is for greatness and God and gifting
H is for happy holy and having
I is for interesting introvert
J is for joyful jokes and chicken that’s jerk
K is for kind kisses king kente
L is for love lavender and lake
M is for magic moon messenger music
N is for noon night now do it
O is for onyx oxtails and onions
P is for purple peace pinky toes with no bunions
Q is for queen quiet and quest
R is for red riot and required rest
S is for soul singing song
T is for Teal Taj Mahal tone
U is for Universe understanding
V is for violet vote and victory
W is for winning wholeheartedly writing
X is for xenophobia isn’t that exciting
Y is for yes yellow and you
Z is for Zulu people with eyes like moon
Dirty,
greasy,
I smell like fried chicken.
Sweat is trickling,
Stinking.
It got me thinking!!!!
I need to wash
my birthday suit,
Body wash by Hollister*
Newport Beach,
Smells of a musky fruit.
awesome scent, kinda sweet,
I start at my feet.
Scrub away the repulsive smell
relax away the painful swell..
Scrub thy legs, all of them
cleanliness is key.
the soap suds wash away,
there is a bruise on my knee!
I continue on to my abdomen
rippled, tough,
strong, rough.
the scrubbing reddens my ivory skin.
To my hairy chest,
the matted mess,
upward, I scrub my neck.
Wash my hair,
conditioning with care,
time to shave my face.
Pick up my razor blade,
my daily strokes of grace.
I rinse the sudsy residue,
watch it spiral down the drain.
I look in the mirror at my birthday suit,
confidence in vein.....
Jared Pickett
9/11/09
Asavvy1
A new toy I found in the mall
for my beloved pet,
a different toy from a ball,
the one she loves to play with.
A plastc chicken I chose for her,
that at first, she didn't like at all,
because it makes funny sounds,
she was scared of.
After a few days,
I realized she was taking care of it,
she was always near to this new toy,
she didn' t want anyone to take it away,
nor anybody to be near to it.
She keeps changing it from place to place,
treating it delicately, trying to keep it safe.
Lying down next to it,
she likes to be hugging this new joy for her.
As if her baby was,
she's delighted just giving love.
It doesn't matter if it's only a plastic toy,
she still appreciates what life gives to her:
"the chance to love innocently".
i am a very sensitive man
live in the horror of restaurants
those with those long salad bars
the celery are mostly quiet
it is the tomatoes that moan the loudest
broccoli screams tempest across the room
carrots bear the misery best
exists in a shredded mess
Vidalia onions chorus with the red
survival that aromas sweetly
from table to table
watching lettuce and cabbage
disappear down the throats
above the silent ears
that cannot hear
the cries of death coming from
the now silent salad bar
i stare down at the steak
solely upon my plate and ruminate
do vegetarian humans taste
like chicken
OKC 1/23
The Farm ©
Fields of mustard
sway in a light breeze
off the river
farm dogs return
dusted in yellow
the clapboard gray of
the farmhouse
weeps old memories
generations of pea farmers,
hunters, fishermen and cooks
heady fragrance of cooking food
saturate the senses as
the screen door slaps shut
the matriarch sings out
‘tea party!
and the city folk sit ‘round a table
laden with baked chicken that was
pecking out a meal in the yard that day
fried venison steak and mashed potato
green beans and corn hanging from the vine
just minutes ago
her biscuits and cornbread; the stuff
dreams are made of
Later they sit on the warped porch steps
listening as the geese honk their way in
to the seed rich fields and
their nightly respite
bats fly across the moon,
frogs call out their secrets,
a loon wails its loneliness
old stories are told
Trisha Sugarek
Moths and Machetes
We’re on Fall break this week and Peter’s favorite aunt - Lita - is visiting. Lita’s a tall, slim woman (eek! A guess), in her early sixties. She’s nicely weathered and tan. I’m sure she once had Peter’s blue-black hair but now it’s mostly white and styled in a loose braid. I think she rocks the coastal grandma aesthetic with a wardrobe of mostly pale tans, whites and flats.
Peter has all kinds of stories about her - she’s a character. When Peter was 5, on Halloween, Lita pretended to sacrifice a chicken, cackling, like a witch. He was wide-eyed until she admitted she was just making fried chicken for dinner.
Lita lives on property adjacent to Peter’s parents, but hers is larger, more of a farm, where she raises chickens and grows Meyer-lemons and persimmons. This may explain why Peter slices up lemons, dips them in sugar and eats them like oranges (I shiver). Peter told me that Lita always liked fruit, which is why she bought Apple stock in 1997.
From what I’ve learned, talking to Lita, she practically raised Peter’s dad (David). Their parents had a boy before her, an older brother she doesn’t remember meeting because he drowned at a church outing when she was a toddler. Their parents, in their grief, had turned in on themselves, becoming as self-centered as gyroscopes.
They’d left Lita by herself for weeks at a time, to raise herself on a more-or-less trial-and-error basis. So, when David came along 13 years later, he became her responsibility. She started working as an auto mechanic and eventually opened a couple of shops of her own. She describes herself as more well-read than formally educated - as if knowledge had just settled on her, like dust from an old library.
“Teressa (Peter’s mom) is very curious about you,” Lita confides to me as we huddle together over venti pumpkin lattes, “Peter’s very tight-lipped where you’re concerned.”
“He is?” I ask, confused, “maybe he’s ashamed,” I venture, “or maybe he’s planning to dump me?” Lita looks amused, ”uh huh, that’s probably IT,” she agrees.
“Look! I say excitedly, pulling an envelope from my purse, “It’s my first-ever paycheck,” I beam. I make a production of opening the thing, like an Oscar envelope. “$223,” I read, shaking my head in admiration, then adding, with sincere sounding hyperbole, ”he can’t dump me NOW, I’m RICH!”