Poultry Poetry

photo credit: key lime pie yumyum via photopin cc

One Requirement… Be sure to be wearing your sense of humor

before reading the following – just for fun Friday post…..

“Poultry Poetry”
(not about a chicken)

 
You walk like a chicken
Through the scratch you’re about to eat
You’ve pecked everything around you clean
Kicking the scraps beneath the coop to
Save for yourself…
 
You crow like the rooster that you are
Not to recognize the break of dawn
But just to listen to your own
Cock a doodle doo
 
You’ve chased every hen in the barnyard
Till their little bird legs are weak and worn
They can’t even lay an egg in peace
Without you crawling into their nests
Exposing your cockiness
 
I saw you this morning on top of the coop
You weren’t crowing like a rooster
You were squealing like a pig…
My first thought was that you were
One sick chicken…
But then, right before my own eyes
I realized that not even the sows are
Safe around you
 
Yesterday you rolled a dozen eggs
Beneath the fence to an awaiting fox
In trade for him to chase the hens
Into your little rooster cave
That you carefully constructed
In the corner of the barnyard
 
I noticed your collection of hen feathers
That you’ve stashed beneath the
Watering trough
Tokens from the chicks that you have charmed…
I think they’re beginning to see through
Your tempting doodle doo…
 
I’ve reached my last straw with you
I’m trading you to the neighbor
For his jackass…
I’m certain of your delight
For he has a mob of emu
That you can add to your conquests
 
I will miss you though…
The sounds of the screaming hens…
The sows wallowing in the mud
In their attempt to keep you off their backs
Your crowing at midnight
Howling at the moon like a wolf in heat…
 
I remember the time you chased Whinnie
The Shetland pony around the barn…
Her kicking you in the head with her back foot…
I took a picture of you lying on the ground on your back
Flopping your wings straight out at your sides
Wiggling the tips of both wings as if
Motioning Whinnie to come and get you…
With that smile on your beak…
 
I will miss you though…
There’s a barnyard party planned for your departure
The hens are even removing the barbed wire
From around their nests that they had placed there
To keep their chicks safe from your misguided voracity…
I see that you’re showing off your spurs
As you drag them around in the dirt…
I’ll expect you to be on your best behavior
When the neighbor brings over Myrtle the jackass…
You’d better keep your cock a doodle doo
Beneath your feathers…
But something tells me,
That by the time she arrives,
You will have learned to hee haw…

Copyright © 2014 All Rights Reserved

Don’t be draggin’ your spurs in the dirt…

I’ll be looking forward to your comments…

Have a humorous weekend…

Michael33

The Flamingo

photo credit: FRAMES OF MIND ~ Chris Preen via <a

The following short poem was inspired by the pictures of fellow wordpress blogger “Bulldog”…

You can find his pics at http://www.visitstothepark.wordpress.com

The Flamingo

It was such a sight of gentleness

Wading gently in the shallows

A faint touch of their blackened tips

To the surface of the seas

 

Standing motionless

As if innocently peering

Into their own reflections

Rippled only slightly in the breeze

© 2014 All Rights Reserved

Wade gently…

Michael33

Lost Amongst the Primrose

photo credit: Fotos by Dee via photopin cc

I apologize for not posting anything last evening.  My physical well being and my ‘sometimes’ poetic mind were most definitely out of synchronization.  Hope you enjoy tonight’s post…

“Lost Amongst the Primrose”
 
I was beckoned to the garden
Into shadows of the moonlight
By someone draped in amber shades of lust
 
I wandered in the moonlit night
Amongst the flowers, black and white
Till dawn replaced the shadows with mistrust
 
Twas there I found that innocence
Drifting softly in the shadows
Lingers only briefly in the dawn
 
Thence, only in reflections
Can it echo through the canyons
And allow the faded sketches be redrawn
 
I gazed into the dew drops
Where mirrors of the rainbow
Were changing hues of colors lost in time
 
What was lost amongst the primrose
Secrets meant forever
Always seem to surface in the rhyme

Copyright © 2014 Steven Michael Sanders

There is much more to this poem than words of poetry.
If you have an analytical mind, you might find it interesting to spend some time with the meaning behind each verse.  One point of interest might be that the latin meaning of primrose is “First rose”… which could be interpreted as ‘innocence’… There’s many more little points to be made within the text… Have fun with it… Use your imagination.  I’d love to hear your comments.
Or… you can just click the ‘like’ button and have a wonderful evening…

Either way, thanks for visiting, and taking the time to read my poetry.  You are very much appreciated…

Be careful if you’re beckoned to the garden in the moonlight…
You never know what might happen amongst the primrose!

Michael33

The Poet’s Perfume

photo credit: greenhem via photopin cc

The Poet’s Perfume

 
It’s a cool October morn in the southern plains
As lonesome sounds echo from a distant train
The warmth in the air will soon be lost
As the tear drops of dew evolve into frost
 
Leaves with hues of yellows and reds
Leaving the poet with rhymes unsaid
Covering gardens where life still thrives
Harboring hope till spring arrives
 
Does the tree feel sadness when all is lost?
Can it recognize pain when lines are crossed?
Its nakedness proudly exposing its soul
Yet the poet still feels a need to console
 
I asked the tree with branches bare
If it could feel life’s sad despair
It spoke of truths and deepened roots
How barren limbs will soon bear fruit
 
Life it seems must have a cost
Never sure of love that’s lost
But come the spring with nature’s bloom
The poet inhales its sweet perfume

*************************************************

A gentle mist
Your favorite perfume
Tenderly kissed
In the poet’s room…

Copyright © 2014 All Rights Reserved

Michael33

“The Unexpected Answer”

photo credit: BrianScottImages via photopin cc

Good evening all… Thank you so much for your support on last night’s post “The Cowboy and the Crow”…
It was one of those that just kind of writes themselves.  I appreciate the ‘likes’ and the ‘follows’… I’m sticking with the western theme tonight, just for fun.
Hope you enjoy “The Unexplained Answer”..

.
“The Unexpected Answer”

 
The children sat atop the fence
Through the rails their legs intertwined
Watching the cowboys corralling the horses
Perhaps for the very last time
 
She sat inside the small cabin
Echoes of words left unsaid
Her elbow placed on the table
Her hand gently cupping her head
 
They’d had no rain for months now
Nothing in the fields but dust
She felt as though her endless prayers
Had become just a plain breach of trust
 
The river nearby once flowed with grace
Now nothing more than a brook
She knew that her cabinets were barren
There was just nothing there to cook
 
The flour, the cornmeal, all of them gone
The wheat field had turned to brown
She tried so hard to lift their spirits
But all she could find was a frown
 
The cowboys had left for the mountain
Rounding up every last horse
She thought of offering one last prayer
But no longer trusted her source
 
The children had wandered into the woods
Leaving her there with her self
All hope had left her all alone
As she placed her cross on the shelf
 
She heard an unusual noise
And went to look out of the door
There in the dust stood an Indian
Full feathers and paint he bore
 
She watched as he danced in the wind
Offering the gods his heart
His turtle rattle shook unto the sky
The scene was just abstract art
 
A falcon flew down at his feet
Pounding his wings in the breeze
Kicking the dust with his talons
While eagles were perched in their trees
 
The feathered one stopped abruptly
The falcon froze at his feet
The wind was changing direction
Her hope was no longer deplete
 
She ran from the door in the silence
Grasping the man in bare feet
She hugged him with all her heart and soul
Kissing the paint on his cheek
 
Storm clouds were quickly approaching
The aroma of rain in the air
The falcon flew up on his shoulder
As he spoke with his gathering lair
 
He raised his hand to the darkening sky
And chanted his prayers of persistence
She smiled in reconciliation
As thunder rolled in from the distance
 
The animals came from near, from far
The cougar, the bear, and all
They gathered around to drink of life
As the rain began to fall
 
She confessed to losing her faith complete
Her God could no longer see
The shaman said, as he looked to the sky
Then who do you think sent me
 
The feathered one danced beneath the sky
Removing all the fear
The falcon called, the cougars roared
And the Shaman just disappeared

© 2014 All Rights Reserved

Answers are not always presented in the way that we expect…
Never… lose hope!

Michael33

“The Cowboy and the Crow”

photo credit: MohdShareef via <a

After not posting last evening… leaving what seemed to be some sort of emptiness within me, I am eager to offer for tonight’s post… another Poetic Story that I seem to so enjoy writing.  Hope you enjoy it also…

“The Cowboy and the Crow”

 
Riding on the plains I paused to rest
Drifting through the hills of South Dakota
Stepping down to camp for the night
On the grounds of Black Hills Lakota
 
I was proud to call many of them friend
Lighting the campfire in the cold
A pesky old crow came down in a rage
As if something was out of control
 
He paced on the ground just three feet before me
Squawking his story in a rage
Acting as if he thought I should follow
A path that he made in the sage
 
Persistence paid off, as I tired of his antics
And followed his squawks through the burr
As I crawled through the brush where he took me
I thought that he said to “Help her.”
 
An alarming sound when a crow sounds a warning
Alerting the bulk of my senses
A cougar stood firm, the crow didn’t squirm
I knew that I had no defenses
 
Then I observed the point of his rage
With the cougar about to spring
Lying in the brush unable to fly
A crow with a small broken wing
 
I scooped my hands around her
The cougar remaining at bay
I told the crow that I could not help
To rescue his love from the prey
 
He squawked in a rage at my comment
Flapping his wings in my face
But her injury was far beyond me
Something I couldn’t embrace
 
The crow then flew to the north
And turned to get me to follow
I carried his lover in the palms of my hands
To a house that he found in the hollow
 
Approaching the gate to the house
I wondered who might inside dwell
I thought that the crow said “Angel”
When I encountered a beautiful smell
 
I reached for the gate made of hickory
A name on the archway above
The name that appeared was just “Angel”
I was already feeling the love
 
A young woman stepped onto the porch
Reaching her hands for the bird
She spoke with the crow for a moment
It seemed that they both had conferred
 
She fixed the wing of the lovely crow miss
The mister crow now appeased
She asked me if I could stay awhile
I must say that I was pleased
 
The injured crow had healed to norm
Our lives became entangled
We all became the best of friends
And now live with an “Angel”

Copyright © 2014 All Rights Reserved

Listen to the crows… They may have something significant to tell you!

Michael33

In the Wisdom of the Trees

photo credit: Indigo Skies Photography via photopin

In the Wisdom of the Trees

I stood beneath the trees
In the light of Persian Rose
That so often bathes the
Early morning sky.

Opening my heart and soul…
To the towering oak
Standing firmly before me…
Exposing all I had to bear,
Hiding nothing of the darkness within me
Sharing secrets that no
Living being has heard before…

It assured me that everything
Would be alright
That the universe
Could not and would not
Withhold enlightenment
From any being that
Might dare to ask….

But can you trust a tree?

Even the giant Oak
That has stood firmly before you
Since the day you first met?
Can you really reach deep into your soul
And know with unwavering certainty
That you can place your trust
Into another living creature?

You’ve watched from your window
Through seasons of time
While it most generously provided
The loveliest of sites for
Multitudes of creatures,
Both feathered and furred,
To bear and raise their families
In peaceful bliss
Never interfering with their way of life…
Their journeys across their world…
Or hope for their children…

But can you really trust the wisdom of a tree?

Can it really provide
The exultation of knowledge
To provide you with answers
That you have searched for
Your entire life…

Finding them only void of meaning…

Finding them only no where…..

I stood beneath its majestic branches
As hues fade into amaranth
Reflecting shades of elegance
That wakens sleeping sparrows
Only lingering moments
Beyond the glimpse of dawn…

My face lifted upward
Toward the tiny shards of light
Peeking through the multitudes of leaves
Clinging so gracefully to the branches
From where they first awakened…

And I asked with my always inquisitive,
Often doubtful mind….
If anyone…
Any living creature…
Could trust the wisdom of a tree…
And expect that indeed …
Everything would be alright
Worries would vanish beneath the bark
And I could once again stand
Beneath the eloquence of the trees,
Absorbing their wisdom
While a new dawn brings forth tomorrow…..

The trees spoke only silence…..

As my mind once again filled with fear
That no answer would prevail itself unto me
A sudden, quite un-gentle breeze
Rushed through the limbs
While the lowest of branches…
The least of them all…
Slammed against my shoulder
Knocking me onto the ground beneath it.

As my mind quickly turned against my hope
Against the wisdom of the trees
Believing this to be only
Reflections of the answers
I have become accustomed to receiving…

When in the rustling of the leaves
I heard a soft whisper…
Gentle…
Barely audible to humanness…
Speaking to me from beyond
My understandings…

“Speak to me only from your heart…
And your heart shall be enlightened with wisdom!”

I pondered the moment…..

Thinking that I must have struck my head
Against the ground
To think any such words
Had actually been uttered from a tree…..

Had my mind drifted beyond the veils of sanity?
Was I truly becoming what so many before
Had inferred with possibilities
That I might just in some way, somehow,
No longer be in possession of
An un-disturbed mind

Then…
As I lie on the ground beneath the Oak
At that very moment of remembrance…
A moment of profound doubt…
Doubting myself
Doubting my sanity
Doubting the tree
Doubting wisdom itself within its own countenance…

I felt the cool, moist softness of clover against my skin…
The gentle breeze brushing softly across my face…
The sweet scent of lavender filling my senses….

I was no longer alone in that moment…

I was no longer alone in any moment…

They were all there together…
With me amongst them…

The rustling of the leaves…
The branches bending gently with the breeze…
The songs of sparrows echoing in the wind…

Trusting…
In the wisdom of the trees

Copyright © Steven Michael Sanders

Speak from your heart…

Write from your heart…

Have a beautifully enlightened evening…..

Michael

Complexions of Red

Hope everyone is having a pleasant Sunday evening.  Thanks for all the wonderful support from last night’s post.  I certainly enjoyed the comments and the ‘likes’.  It was another beautiful day here in the southern plains, with highs around 80 under a crisp blue sky.  Hope that lasts till March, but something tells me it won’t.  Tonight’s post is about the changing seasons.

Thanks for visiting…..

Complexions of Red
 
I love the falling leaves
Watching their nearly weightless essence
With myriads of color
As they gracefully drift their
Glorious hues, ever so softly…
Gently caressing the aspirations
Of the Earth below
 
Yearning for their tender touch,
The microcosm opens its loving arms
Receiving their generous nurturing
That they so readily avail
 
I stood beneath the trees
My eyes lifting toward the forest’s pallet
Filled with shades of green and gold
With complexions of red,
Ascribing their ascendancy
Of the changing seasons
 
As the lingering mist
Touched softly my face
A delicate breeze fondling my skin
You were there… standing beside me…
Silently…
 
Weaving your fingers into mine
Lifting our passion
Far beyond the awe inspiring moment
Transformed into avian beings,
And drifting otherworldly with the wind

May a delicate breeze fondle your skin….

Michael