Long Pullet Poems
Long Pullet Poems. Below are the most popular long Pullet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pullet poems by poem length and keyword.
If they ask you of me,
Tell them u did not see me,
Though you can see it is me,
But tell them you did not see me.
The former me has faded away,
Now am new as a new born baby,
Tell them am saying bye to vanity,
Carelessness and waywardness.
Tell them i have been claimed by
The lovely unseen,
Tell them he made me matured,
I am no more like a vulture,
So,can no more be tortured.
When i was deadly like a bullet,
He made me calm and peaceful like a pullet,
When i was like carmeleon
He liken me to a champion.
Let ears hear different of me,
Let eyes see different of me,
Let the nose perceive different of me,
Even as a sweet fragrance.
The mouth,utter no more courses,
Tell them of me,my newness and me,
Please tell them for me.
Form:
While working in my flower bed,
a bird flew and buzzed my head.
I very quickly started to flail
thinking it must have been a quail.
I dove in a motion of herky jerky,
wondering if it was a wild turkey.
I looked at my cat with whiskers he was licken',
my thought it may have been a chicken.
I did not see not even a smidgen.
could it have been a very young pigeon?
Perhaps with any kind of goofy luck,
it could have been a Mallard Duck.
As it went by a feather came loose,
i noticed it didn't come from a goose.
It flew as fast as a speeding bullet,
no way could it have been a small pullet.
I stood up and removed my glove,
thinking it must have been a dove.
When I looked up it flew as an arrow.
To my dismay it was only a sparrow.
The werewolf hunter came to town to help the people fight
The moon was getting larger and would soon be full and bright
Those vicious hairy beasts would savage townsfolk all night long
But now they’ll find they’re up against a man who’s sure and strong
The werewolf hunter went to work and got himself an aide
He gave the man one thing to do and said, “You’ll be well paid.”
The aide was known to local people as ‘Come-Again Ben’
His hearing wasn’t great but he worked cheaper than most men
So, by and by, the moon was full; the howls that night were loud
The werewolf hunter stood before the chapel, tall and proud
He needed, then ‘Come-Again Ben’ to fetch what he required
But one Chrome-plated chicken meant his aide was promptly fired
The werewolves formed a circle and they found themselves a kill
The werewolf hunter and his aide were feeling rather ill
And then the moon shone brighter and as though of one shared thought
The werewolves bared their teeth and claws and launched their crazed assault
***
The werewolf hunter laid there, he was very close to death
His aide was also dying so each spoke with his last breath
The werewolf hunter garbled… “Just one tiny silver bullet?”
His aide said, “Sorry, Boss… I thought you said a silver pullet.”
Losing her soul to the whirlwind
Her spirit stolen by rainstorm
Body of her became a sacrifice
To the turbulent blizzard.
Once upon a soul mate
We both danced in the day
And we have both thrust
Our feet together in the dark
I had thought
I was the only key to her heart
Until I met the door I left clogged opened
My luggage packed outside in the rain.
I knocked the door endlessly
Still under the bashing of
A heavy clatter of water from the above
Visibly shaking, fidgeting
Like a lost pullet with no mother
I heard a heavy laughter from within
I peeped through the window
Nothing in sight to behold
In my world, rain stopped
To me alone, it was no longer raining
Heat came over me from within
My head ran fast as I became hot
Is she inside all the while?
Has somebody replaced me?
No, rang through my medulla oblongata
Basking in the effusive
Hymns of “forever together”
“Bad thought of a bad dream”
I chorused to ‘self
The masculine laughter reverberated
With a ugly but husky voice
This time accompanied by a very
Feeble but familiar sonorous voice
Playing the Juliet to the Romeo’s laughter
I am dead, I’m finished
My soul mate, now soul lost?
Life stared at me without a sire
Alayade Stephen T.
20th of June 2007
03.52pm
NB-Written in Iba,(Ayos) in the house with me,
Expecting a Mary, and Izobo daughter.
The Rooster
He strutted ‘cross the barnyard tall and proud,
away from all the bustle of the crowd;
the other roosters in the yard felt cowed,
to him they meekly stepped aside and bowed.
Rhode Island Red to others he was known;
the yard’s top bird, to all he wanted shown.
One day a pullet walking on her own
approached red rooster standing all alone.
“Dear sir you’re quite the standout in this room
all smartly clad and dressed in bright red plume
and standing by yourself may I assume
you’re unattached and lonely, I presume.”
Replied the rooster, “Dear cannot you see,
that others always step aside for me,
and I’m the one, I think you would agree
that any hen I wanted, it would be.”
“Oh, really,” she replied with snarky grin,
“then why I ask your party seems quite thin,
and I’m the only caller who’s within;
perhaps it’s time that you and I begin.”
“My dear young hen you’re simply not my type;
you’re far too ordinary is my gripe,
and I prefer a hen who’s much more ripe
for I must always live up to my hype.”
“I see you standing proudly in your frock,
and I can see you’ve been around the block;
you’re nothing but an old conceited cock,
and you deserve a nagging hen to rock.”
June 27, 2019
SPRING-HEELED JACK
Spring-Heeled Jack was a very odd chap,
And a very odd chap was he.
His eyes glowed like a pyre,
He wore batman’s attire.
He was frightful not least
Because from the mouth of this beast
Spewed forth a tongue of blue fire.
Spring-Heeled Jack had a very strange knack,
And a very strange knack had he.
By way of a spoof
He jumped roof to roof,
And a ten-foot wall
Presented no trouble at all
To this Jack of the cloven hoof.
Spring-heeled Jack had a very tough mac,
And a very tough mac had he.
The soldiers might fire
But unscathed he’d retire.
He sure was no pullet,
Distaining each bullet,
And mocking the military’s ire.
Spring-Heeled Jack had a very sad lack,
And a very sad lack had he.
With a talent like his
He could have been king of show biz
And regarding high jumps
Jack would have been trumps.
What a deplorable waste of his whizz!
Spring-Heeled Jack had a very long whack,
And a very long whack had he.
Despite many a try
No catcher came nigh,
So through Victoria’s long age
It was Jack who held stage.
Though now, it appears, he’s more shy.
Why did the chicken cross Abbey Road?
Because it was there,
but which came first?
Obviously, not the egg,
as it has no legs.
The first chicken to cross the road,
feeling peckish,
not one to throw in the towel,
when told, 'Walk, don't run a fowl,'
and, faster than a speeding pullet,
or so it is said,
was one giant leap for poultry,
one small step
for a Rhode Island Red.
But, by the look on the freckled face
of the old speckled hen,
arriving alive on the other side,
her tranquility was not expanded,
when she heard the words announced,
'The Eagle has landed!'