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PUZZLED for Leslie Alexis
The peacock parades exquisitely.
Displays the glory of his tail,
the hens ignore him easily.
This bold display was bound to fail
The peacock has misjudged his time.
The hens aren’t ready to be wooed.
Although he thinks he is sublime
it’s not the time for hens to brood.
He’s young and inexperienced.
As yet he does not understand,
his tiny brain still hasn’t sensed.
The hens not he are in command.
The females don’t appreciate
his urgency he’ll have to wait.
20-Jan-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Difference Between A Rooster And A Man
on the grass i see this rooster wearing a thick red comb,
tall for its lowly status, and well muscled as may be gleaned from the
thickness of its black, red and white feathers
how can he notice me stopping by to observe it
when its attention is focused on two slender hens
one is red the other white getting near it
and without any inhibition at all he copulated on each
of those two slender hens, quickly as a quickie
i can imagine in a few days, the two hens cackle with
lots of eggs for the owner now prepared with a big basket
to bring the produce to a crowded market
if i as a man does what a rooster does, you very well know
what happens next
it will be the people of this republic v. ric
and his dismissal from the government service
it makes me think however, on the other hand, the happiness of
the owner selling more eggs in the market because the rooster
had been kind and obliging to the two hens and the other hens in the yard
what about it God?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Cocky Morning
don't be
malicious
the cocks
are sounding
off their
horns
to greet
the hens out there
good morning
and of course
the hens
crackle and giggle
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Familiarity brings liking
A cock loved with his commune hens.
Into yard, he started loving other hens.
Into jungle, other fowls too are appealing.
Once used to, you love any breed of woman.
30.05.2001, Berh
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Heap’s peak
Everyone has a heap,
Each heap has a peak,
Be it a mountain or an ant hill.
Priding on such heap one would die,
Each soul thus getting some respite.
15.06.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Watching The Chickens
the strong cock
struts its way
towards a
group of hens
and as there
are too many
of them
hens, the cock
in confidence
does what is
of most service
to its master
he fucked them
all
for the eggs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This magnificent butterfly finds a little heap of dirt and sits still on it; but man will never on his heap of mud keep still.
quote by Joseph Conrad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No company can afford not to move forward. It may be at the top of the heap today but at the bottom of the heap tomorrow, if it doesn't.
quote by James Cash Penney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A precious acquisition
Honesty,
A virtue so precious.
With it,
Lives are saved.
Without it,
Are lives destroyed.
Honesty,
A precious possession.
The humble,
Like a guest embrace.
The greedy,
Like an enemy they shun,
And with mud,
On its face they smear.
But the fools,
Like a stranger they fear.
Honesty,
A precious possession.
Its lovers,
To hens are metaphored,
But their ridiculers,
Are the hens themselves,
For God,
Honesty initiates and loves.
So anyone,
Who honesty champions,
Will for eternity,
God's friend remain.
Honesty,
A priceless commodity.
poem by Michael Wamalwa
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The Famine and The Feast
THE FAMINE
Cackle and lay, cackle and lay!
How many eggs did you get to-day?
None in the manger, and none in the shed,
None in the box where the chickens are fed,
None in the tussocks and none in the tub,
And only a little one out in the scrub.
Oh, I say! Dumplings to-day.
I fear that the hens must be laying away.
THE FEAST
Cackle and lay, cackle and lay!
How many eggs did you get to-day?
Two in the manger, and four in the shed,
Six in the box where the chickens are fed,
Two in the tussocks and ten in the tub,
And nearly two dozen right out in the scrub.
Hip, hooray! Pudding to-day!
I think that the hens are beginning to lay.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Courtship of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo
I
On the Coast of Coromandel
Where the early pumpkins blow,
In the middle of the woods
Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
Two old chairs, and half a candle,--
One old jug without a handle,--
These were all his worldly goods:
In the middle of the woods,
These were all the worldly goods,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
II
Once, among the Bong-trees walking
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To a little heap of stones
Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
There he heard a Lady talking,
To some milk-white Hens of Dorking,--
''Tis the lady Jingly Jones!
'On that little heap of stones
'Sits the Lady Jingly Jones!'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
III
'Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!
'Sitting where the pumpkins blow,
'Will you come and be my wife?'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
'I am tired of living singly,--
'On this coast so wild and shingly,--
'I'm a-weary of my life:
'If you'll come and be my wife,
'Quite serene would be my life!'--
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
IV
'On this Coast of Coromandel,
'Shrimps and watercresses grow,
'Prawns are plentiful and cheap,'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
'You shall have my chairs and candle,
'And my jug without a handle!--
'Gaze upon the rolling deep
('Fish is plentiful and cheap)
'As the sea, my love is deep!'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
V
Lady Jingly answered sadly,
And her tears began to flow,--
'Your proposal comes too late,
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!
'I would be your wife most gladly!'
(Here she twirled her fingers madly,)
'But in England I've a mate!
'Yes! you've asked me far too late,
'For in England I've a mate,
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!'
VI
'Mr. Jones -- (his name is Handel,--
'Handel Jones, Esquire, & Co.)
'Dorking fowls delights to send,
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!
'Keep, oh! keep your chairs and candle,
'And your jug without a handle,--
'I can merely be your friend!
'-- Should my Jones more Dorkings send,
'I will give you three, my friend!
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!'
VII
'Though you've such a tiny body,
'And your head so large doth grow,--
'Though your hat may blow away,
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!
'Though you're such a Hoddy Doddy--
'Yet a wish that I could modi-
'fy the words I needs must say!
'Will you please to go away?
'That is all I have to say--
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!'.
VIII
Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle,
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To the calm and silent sea
Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
There, beyond the Bay of Gurtle,
Lay a large and lively Turtle,--
'You're the Cove,' he said, 'for me
'On your back beyond the sea,
'Turtle, you shall carry me!'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
IX
Through the silent-roaring ocean
Did the Turtle swiftly go;
Holding fast upon his shell
Rode the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
With a sad primæval motion
Towards the sunset isles of Boshen
Still the Turtle bore him well.
Holding fast upon his shell,
'Lady Jingly Jones, farewell!'
Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,
Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
X
From the Coast of Coromandel,
Did that Lady never go;
On that heap of stones she mourns
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
On that Coast of Coromandel,
In his jug without a handle
Still she weeps, and daily moans;
On that little hep of stones
To her Dorking Hens she moans,
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
poem by Edward Lear
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Heaps and growths
Every heap is as a result
Of some scoops from somewhere.
Every growth is as a result
Of some deaths from around.
Don’t beam with the heap and growth.
12.12.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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World peace
A mirage,
They are running after it,
A game,
Played by big players,
A net,
Cast by the biggest hunter,
And the whole world trapped into it.
Thou cannot look for it
on the heap of corpse,
On the heap of ruin,
Amidst the wail of widows,
Amidst the scream of orphans,
It will surely come,
When man will be
the centre of man's hopes.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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They wrangle about an egg, and let the hens fly away.
When the fox preaches, take care of yourselves, hens.
Bad times came to be; hens on thrones we were to see.