Short Free Range Poems
Short Free Range Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Free Range by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Free Range by length and keyword.
red hens on the town
girls night out ladies choice
free range chickens
Poetic delicacies,
Chilled haiku sake,
Sautéed clerihew au jus,
Free-range limericks
baked to perfection,
Footle fries,
Yum!
10 reps of Haiku curls
10 reps of Irish Ballad presses
3X5 paragraphs of trenchant prose
5X Lyrical lunges
Last 5 minutes: Free range editing gut check
A farmer who was looking for change
Produced limericks that were free-range
He achieved great success
His limericks were best
And gluten-free -isn't that strange?
Freed a dozen hens today
For a week or so
$2 (additional) the price of freedom
On the supermarket shelves
Even though I may pontentially
Have stolen all their children
(to be read to the tune of Papa was a rolling stone)
Papa was a rolling egg
Wherever he laid a hen chicks were made
And when he flied-
The coop you know was left undone.
Free Range
We all love the thought
no fences against the wolves
the sheep are frantic
GINSU-KNIFE EASTPORT , MAINE USA
Those chickens commit harra-kiri daily said Nan
Of free-range livestock with beaks, she was not a great fan
How do they do it? Asked her cousin curious Scar
Easy; they run out in the road, in front of my car
Where no ponies free ranged, I dreamt to break and wrangle paints.
Where ponies bent, broke and bridled, I dreamt to hang away my spurs.
Where no ponies free range, I have no spurs and wrangle paints.
Chickens are funny
In so many ways
Barnyard clowns for sure
Pecking and clucking
Fighting over feed
Some are road kill
Suicidal
Kamikaze
Free range chickens
White feathers
Golden beaks
Staring eyes
Barnyard
Cackling
Magic
Chicks
We are blighted wards
Sordid, trepidatious scars
Haven's wall too darkly far
Eden's thornbush guards
Caught behind our safety bars
Still, we count the free range stars
4/02/20
For 'Pick a Title - Vol 15 - Sedoka' contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
theme: symbiosis
I’m just a free-range wino on the lam,
A low-rent resident of any circus tent
Accepts me as the reprobate I am.
I don’t speak Texan and I don’t intend to,
But I’ll pretend to be a rodeo clown.
I’ve got a box of bad intentions.
Gonna drink that vino down.
In vino veritas.
There was once a gal named Sally Sue
who liked to swim wearing just two red shoes
folk thought it was strange
she said it’s free-range
Her red shoes vanished, she’s sad and blue
Alexis Y.
7-31-2020
They wander,
free range sheep,
Following a breeze,
a wafting scent
Clover…perhaps
More likely the innate call
To roam
In search of themselves.
Freedom,
a dubious destination
As jagged cliffs
O’erlook the crushing surf
Escape
An unknown dream
For wind and tide
And nature
Call them
Home.
Foxes ruffle feathers
Blame bunny for raid on hen house.
Bunny claims “Easter” privilege.
Rainbow coalition boycotts eggs.
Media scrambles to cover story.
Free range chickens running amok.
Roosters union demands investigation.
Search party to assemble at daybreak.
John G. Lawless
4/1/2021
Le Cordon Bleu sommelier in the know
Discussed wine pairing with patrons aglow
"What does your order include?"
"Roast turducken frankenfood"
"Then I recommend a dry Portmanteau!"
***
6/19/2020
This is an example of one of my free-range limericks. Click on the pic to see the others. Cheers!
The Meat Locker
The largest ice freezer of free-range Texan
long-horns where mice wore fur to survive
broke down, the carcasses began rotting
thrown into the bay.
The day after, sharks came to the surface
throwing up, turning the water foamy
For anglers, it was a bonus they caught
big marlins and red snappers
Amy the tier-one junkyard cat upends
When her ‘I don’t care’ cattitude offends
She stalks, strikes, then eats
Has no time for treats
Mice used to be fast food but now are friends
Sputnik the panther jungle cat has fun
Laughing as all the humans try to run
Some run as fast they can
Some stop to make a stand
Either way their denouement has begun
Here is a magic chicken,
you can almost taste it
if you use chicken stock,
but if you do,
your internal organs
will eventually be Saran wrapped
as free-range produce
for pets, or the modified minded,
only,
you were never really 'free-range'
if you had been,
a humane hunter
might have harvested you,
knowing that the law of
mass consumption
is:
"First do no harm."
You came in loud like that was wise—
just flung your muddy paws around,
all growls and spit and cow-dumb eyes.
You came in loud.
This isn't turf. It’s neutral ground.
Your claws too dull to even fight—
the lie you told, that fish can drown.
My instrument, sharpened to thrive,
harvests now free range, as wolf-hound's
alter ego preys on roe-fed lives.
You came in loud.
growing up
we now have
a son who is
compared to
a free range
chicken
he is muscular
skateboarding
cycling around
and karate but
he did go off the
grid and without
cooping up
or telling what
was thought
to be our fence
he took German
in defense and
attacked with
tacking a flank
blitzkrieg upon
his wall and last
of all he knew to
let his hair grow
L
O
N
G
E
R
Form:
Gardening
I untangle your heart's stubble
all the bumps along the road
smoothing out the rough edges of mine
you've asked me to stop loving
way too much
yet time planted it through the years
within the depths of my being
each one counts as wild
in the free-range planet
we are untamed gardens
crevices in which life can find its way.
Written: May 12, 2023
A bewildered alphabet
Struggles
To form words
Its letters tumble
Through the turbulence
Of thought’s tyranny
Syllables scamper sillily
In search of Iambs
Stretching the seams
Of ill-fitted suits
As punctuation ponders its place
Lost in a colonic comma coma
As the meters peter out
Amid the harsh drumming
Of repetitive endings
Thus, do the letters taunt
the free range haunts
of cage free thought
Whose cows are those ?
That go to everyone’s garden
Destroying poor farmer’s crops
Whose cows ?
Are on free range
On the whole village.
Where will the poor gardener eat ?
If his source of income is now,
Source of tears
Not of joy
But of sorrow and agony.
Guard your cows
Karota
Unless you want to see blood
Of your animals.
Be careful.
We don’t want you
To start pointing at us
With your mouth
Saying
Those people led to myt suffering.
Let them run free
these words
seeking escape
giddily chattering
scritch-scritch-scritching
in the idle emptiness
of a clear space
struggling for recognition
in a close order inspection
wary of the controls
of punctuation’s interruptions
Free them
Lest some “rooster” crow
“tain’t right”
They should sit
these words
in clustered pens
unheard unread unspoken
but for one
who marks his passing
with a trail of Free Range Verse
John g. Lawless
©1/25/2022