It is a sad house where the hen crows louder than the cock.
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It's a sad house where the hen crows louder than the cock.
In the backyard a cock crows
In the backyard a cock crows
from a plot surrounded by walls of steel
while a dog lies in the sun where he is making a din.
In the backyard a cock crows
half astonished the hens peer at him
where in the early afternoon they how and peck.
In the backyard a cock crows
from a plot surrounded by walls of steel
poem by Gert Strydom
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It is a sorry house in which the cock is silent and the hen crows.
Sugar
On the vermont transit bus I leaned my arm into alittle chink of sun,
Going somewhere older than I was,
Strapped into something tight, keeping me small.
I dug into you like rock climbing;
Too scared of coming down,
Too scared of going up,
Too scared of rockface.
I shouldve split my sides or spilled my guts or hit you or something,
But I was good, and your fathers little pancakes
So round and perfect and me sitting up too straight,
Laughing in wrong places, kissing you,
Kissing up, kissing too soon.
When the cock crows
When the morning comes where will I go?
When the cock crows
When the love is gone where will I go?
And when you got me pregnant I stopped the party and
I stopped the typewriter and I stopped your dumb ball game in the red barn and i
Stopped your father and bled instead.
And I felt the lie - something sticky on the inside,
A bitter wind in my throat,
Stopping me wanting,
In my stomach, in my head and you said
Sugar sugar, you couldnt come come
Sugar sugar, without your mother
Sugar sugar, you couldnt taste it
Sugar sugar, in my throat.
When the cock crows
When the morning comes where will I go?
When the cock crows
When the love is gone where will I go?
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is little peace in that house where the hen crows and the cock is mute.
Shame to the house where the hen crows and the cock is silent.
As the old cock crows, the young cock learns.
Couple Of Chicken Religious Meal
The couple of chicken religious meal
On the ruwatan of my mother
Offering to me
8. Couple Of Chicken Religious Meal
I left the hen one at my grandma house
and bring the cock going home
after arrive at home
that cock
I bring everywhere
aver meet the another one
keep fighting with my cock and win
sometime meet with the cockfighter
neighbour, who have gerobak repair house
where they iron for
and teakwood for
in the center field
they fight my cock and theirs
the winner is always my cock
Their face look very regretful
And they offering to bought my cock
I avoid
And tomorrow eveing, when I went home from school
I found my cock foot
He stay and asleep in my house corner
My cockfoot had injury was harpooned
I care with garlic, not yet recover
I care with peniciclin, not
a week after that cock dead
I cry for the whole day
I don’t understand adult will won theirself
they dont understand, that is not just a cock
But a cock for religious meal in the ruwatan of my mother
My grandma gift
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Malediction
I am walking in the last rays of the setting sun.
Whistling a hangmans tune with head held high swinging my gun.
I say this little boy is angry, I say this little boy is mad!
This little boy comes to destroy, stone-eyed, cold-faced in swathes of vengeance clad.
And the black cock crows. and a dead wind blows.
In my wake are seven men who tried to steal my soul.
In my belly six wild wolves curse and howl from their foul hole.
I say no earthly will may stop me, I say no earthly will may try.
No earthly will may halt the spill of blood from wounds and tears from craving eyes.
And the black cock crows. and a dead wind blows.
Below me burn the city lights like fires of pearls and jewels.
Im climbling down the city walls, unseen, unfussed - the sentries must be fools.
I say all pleasantries are over, I say all pleasantries are past.
My enemies, you pimps and thieves, prepare to meet your nemesis at last.
And the black cock crows. and the dead wind blows.
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Contrasting Sounds Of Sunday Morning
rain is pit pattering
on the roof
the wind is as gentle
as a whisper
of a new lover
when the rain stops
the footfalls pass by
the church bell rings
on a call to prayer
the sound of motorcycles
get louder towards the flea market
the cock crows and
jumps to the ground from a tree
here i am
writing another poem for you
it is the sound of silence again
words hugging like a friend's reunion
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Consequence...
she spends most of her time
(she does not know perhaps that it has
been shortened)
building a new house
choosing the landscape of her new cottage
at the Mediterranean territory
had some chosen lovers to sleep with
on those lonely nights (and she will still have more
than enough, she giggles)
drunk more, laughed louder than before
everything seems to be funny
and the wit keeps flowing from the gutters
and canals of her
pastimes
that following dawn
it was so cold
(her last, i tell you)
before the first fighting cock in the
fenced house cocks
she lies there
breathless....
slashed throat, bathing with
her own sticky drying blood
alone
and even those walls and
soft expensive bed do not give the clue
as to who
and why.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An eloquent cock crows as soon as it comes out of the egg.
Even a cock crows over his own dunghill.
quote by Navjot Singh Sidhu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It may be the cock that crows, but it is the hen that lays the eggs.
quote by Margaret Thatcher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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