You.

Hey, you.
Yeah, you.
Why are you not commenting?
Like, seriously.
Why?
Do you,
yeah, you,
have some problem with this blog?

True poetry.

 

Three million sighs.
Glassy eyes.
Love this song.
Listen to it
all day long.

Cute chicks

 

Attic Poems: Peanut's poem.

This is part of the short series called Attic Poems. They are the poems of the best chickens that died. I found the poems in my attic.

Peanut was my girlie. 

I was with her to the end.

She was more than just a chicken,

she was my best friend.

Her face was sweet,

her feathers, brown.

She and Zesty were the

best friends in town.

But she died,

just like Deadbirdie and Dean.

It wasn't because I was 

cruel or mean.

In fact, before she was

dead,

I was the one who petted her

head.

No, she died of END,

which is the most

horrid disease.

I loved her a lot,

but now she's gone,

and life goes on.

She was better

 than a dove.

I really miss

 my girlie love.

Attic Poems: Deanie's poem.

This is part of the short series called Attic Poems. They are the poems of the best chickens that died. I found the poems in my attic.

Deanie was a rooster,

he was so sweet.

He would sit on my lap

and go to sleep.

Deanie didn't have a tail,

just a little nub.

Deadbirdie was his friend

and Gramps was his bud.

Deanie was the fastest

he love to be free-ranged.

If you started a race

he'd always join the game.

Deanie said he loved me

by making a peeping sound.

He was not afraid of anything,

he always stood his ground.

Deanie was my favorite,

I loved him more than cash.

When I hugged him tight,

he thought it quite a splash!

Deanie was a cutie,

 his tail was small 

and,

although the other chicks were cute,

I love him most of all!

Attic Poems: Deadbirdie's Poem.

This is part of the short series called Attic Poems. They are the poems of the best chickens that died. I found the poems in my attic.

I had a rooster,

he had a weird name.

His name was Deadbirdie,

not something lame.

His name was Deadbirdie 'cause,

when he was small,

he would lay on his back,

 and not move at all.

When he was little

he was black and white.

He would stand on tip toes

and screech with all his might.

When he was older

he ate quite a lot.

He fluffed in the cold,

he panted in the hot.

Deadbirdie was such

a big chunky lug.

When ever I saw him

I gave him a hug.
Every day he cheeped
and stood up tall.
Deadbirdie was sweet
and loved by all.

 

Deadbirdie the chick.

Pecking Order.

"Chicks and hens-enemies?
Explain this please!"
The hens attack
lightning fast.
The chick avoid
lightning pecks.
"What's going on?
Please tell me what!"
"The pecking order
needs adjusts."