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.
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!'
Login to poetry poultry,
If some folks say,
"poetry and poultry
are friendly.
many poets take poetry
as their pleasant hobby
because they can do pottery
and poultry to get money.
Don't forget the unities
of money makers
through different writtings."
An artist says,
"poetry is artistic,
classic,
rhythmic
with logic
and big logistic
Poetry is friendly
with the nature.
it is sucre
and not behind lucre."
a comedian says,
"psychology and stupidity
are always in rivalry.
Hahaaah!
Hahaaah!
don't laugh loudly.
Angry and hungry are so friendly
It is always difficult to separate angry
and power- hungry when they are on special duty. "
Note: Sucre stands for Sugar.
A new interest in running a poultry,
Then, reckoned the needed sum not paltry,
Coolants for birds with the weather sultry,
The chilly worse, keeper desultory…
When birds start dying owner jittery:
Mass breathing of one’s last in battery;
Of its allure packed-with-eggs crates trappings
But should nose deal with foul smell, eyes droppings?
And then this Bastards’ cannibalism
Worse than Nigerian’s Tribalism -
You’ll be paying someone for debeaking
To make safer any fresh bickering;
Also experts on Coccidiosis
To cry less to God in His diocese…
I know it has been a don’t-risk-it voice
But the brave-hearted keeps his brave choice:
To remain their town’s chief egg suppliers
While routes to chicken stalls retain flyers.
Rose knows little about her country.
Far few women do from the pantry
And still fewer,when it gets wintry...
So,she begrudges not the gentry
And challenges not mounted sentry.
Doesn't know about Oprah Winfrey,
Concentrating on their church's Belfry;
Her broadest smiles for Vicar's entry.
It's an old heart for modern poultry,
Her birds leaving when heat is sultry
For her fondest film on Gallantry
Or,if she's loaned it out,Pageantry.
Eyes dancing for just the old pictures:
What would they do to modern cultures?
And The Winner Is Miss Poultry (Country-Crossover Lyric)
so, tell me,
how does it feel
to be, so, finger licken good
you've, been puck, and tuck
from the neck,
down, to your feet
so how, does,
it, feel,
to be so finger licken good
you've, been powder, and pampered,
and felt up, in places,
you,
yourself,
couldn't, even reach
so how, does,
it, feel,
to be, so darn, tasty,
just, so, lip, watering crispy
that, I'd knock down
my little, old granny,
just,
to get, a another,
greasy, fried bite
so, tell me,
how does it feel
to be, so, finger, licken, good
that you have won, first place
right on top of my plate
so, tell me,
how does it feel
I
Humans are divine, but watch & emulate pigs
II
We have body-vehicles; "I'm my car," is like thinking you are poultry
III
Scripture helps us recall our divinity (versus eating with pigs, as the fate of The rude spendthrift & HEIR in LUKE 15, teaches us)
IV
Earthly problems drag us to poultry level.
Recall you are an eagle; fly with eagles
I
Siblings stolen
Why list the nations ills ...
Bring Chicken Little home
II
Kuiken has cage during light
Twilight cheeps, louder -- plaintive --
Back in box, quietest baby
Egg thief
hatcher
snatcher
Hormones added
perky
turkey
Low T
rooster
booster
No eggs
layer
prayer
Pagan
Wiccan
chicken
OSHA injury
plucker
struck her
Power outage
broiler
spoiler
Sweet tooth
cobbler
gobbler
Terrorist
tickin'
chicken
Unfaithful
poultry
'dultery
H/T to Chicken Footles by Andrea Dietrich
A poultry farmer in Albuquerque
led a life some might call quirky
His birds he’d not eat
They were good friends, not meat
He willed his house to a favorite turkey
2/10/22
A rooster gave an hen a chase
And caught her in a private place
The hen had fun!
When she was done
The rooster had egg on its face . . . .
"Howard woncha say a few wurds?
Cum on Howard like over tha bird."
Says Aunt Jen visitin' fer the holeeday.
Weuns are seated tha eight of us at this here sumpchus dinner table,
Lookin' at the damndest big brown poultry ya iver seen.
Howard ma Dad is jist liftin' a forkful a meat drippin' gravy an dressin'.
Tha rest of us heseetate not knowin' what's a cumin.'
Our familee niver did give no thanks fer nuthin'.
Now dad lays down the heepin fork careful like chokes then beegins -
"Weeeellll Lord I chased ol' Mahitabel all roun' tha yard.
She knew what was a cumin' an' diseepeered inta the rushes by tha pond.
Couldn't see her nohow but put a barrel-full inta the weeds anyways
Heered this here squawk!
Looked all through tha stalks fer old Mahitabel,
Niver found her
But! Lord we do now thank ye most bounteefullee fer this here swan.
A men"
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.