Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Friday, June 10, 2011

Pigeon in a Henhouse

cartoon from savagechickens.com
I had a dream last night
I was a pigeon
     stuck in a henhouse.
I looked at all the chickens around me
     and thought "What the cluck am I doing here?"
Then some fat hen
     waddled up to me
     and smug as you can be
     said, "I just love your colorful feathers."
"Thanks," I answered,
     but thought to myself
     "You're one to talk.
     Your breasts are probably shot up full of artificial hormones
     to make them plump,
     you stupid bird."
I asked a hen in the last coop on the left
     what they did for fun around this house.
She just clucked at me disapprovingly and said,
     "Why we lay eggs, of course."
I asked if she wanted to go hang around at a park or
     visit a statue or 
     just stretch her wings a bit.
I must have ruffled her feathers because she waddled off
     clucking even louder.
I could hear her telling the others about me.
What a foul fowl she was!
Suddenly I had a craving for street food
     french fries, bread crumbs, anything really
     but all I could see was chicken feed
     and the hens happily pecking away.
     "It makes us feel secure to know 
     that the food will always taste the same," they said.
Bird brains! No imagination.
Then there was a commotion in the henhouse. 
     Squawking, feathers flying, running about, chaos.
     "He's here, he's here!" the insipid chickens cried with glee.
     "Who's here?" I asked.
     They stared at me as if I had arms instead of wings. 
"The rooster, natch. 
     Though you needn't worry.
     I don't think he fancies foreign girls."
Next thing I knew, some cocky old rooster was staring me up and down.
     "You're not from around here, are you, my little chick-a-dee?"
Before I could cold cock the guy, I woke up. 
I was breathing heavily but 
     all else seemed normal. 
Except for the feather on my pillow.


Fireblossom said...

This is hysterical! I love it. What the cluck?!? LOL!

Isabel Doyle said...

I was sorry it ended - I was hoping the pigeon would lead the great escape!

Susannah said...

This is brilliant, I loved it! :-)

HyperCRYPTICal said...

This is an excellent story, full of humour - love the feather on the pillow.

Anna :o]

darev2005 said...

Cold cock the guy.... hee hee hee! That would be a feather in your cap! You should have punched him in the pecker!

Christine said...

This was great to read, stupendous even, don't you just hate those pillow feathers that poke you in the night.

Pat Hatt said...

I don't know what the cluck to say
That rooster must have caused you dismay
Did the feather tickle your nose
Did it come wrapped in any fancy bows
haha fun read it was
Learning about your chicken buzz

Old Raven said...

This was just GREAT!

Brian Miller said...

b-kaw! cluck-cluck-cluck...

the feather on the pillow was a nice touch to a fun romp in the hen house...

Pat Tillett said...

Talk about whimsical! Very cute...