The Hen's Complaint
Beside an incubator stood
The would-be mother of a brood.
With drooping wings and nodding head,
These are the clucked-out words she said:
'O, vile invention of the age,
You fill me with a burning rage!
Unfeeling monster, moved by steam,
You rob me of life's sweetest dream!
Deprived of offspring which I crave,
I must go childless to my grave.
My aching wings which long to cover
A chirping brood of nestlings over,
No more may know that comfort sweet,
Since chickens may be hatched by heat.
Three weeks of quiet expectation
(Full many a flighty hen's salvation)
I am denied, for now men say
A hen should be content to lay,
And furnish eggs to incubate,
And setting hens are out of date.
Alas, for such a cruel fashion-'
The angry fowl paused, choked with passion,
While from behind a strong hand caught her
And doused her in a tub of water.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Mother Love
I dont want to sleep with you
I dont need the passion too
I dont want a stormy affair
To make me feel my life is heading somewhere
All I want is the comfort and care
Just to know that my woman gives me sweet -
Mother love
Ive walked too long in this lonely lane
Ive had enough of this same old game
Im a man of the world and they say that Im strong
But my heart is heavy, and my hope is gone
Out in the city, in the cold world outside
I dont want pity, just a safe place to hide
Mama please, let me back inside
I dont want to make no waves
But you can give me all the love that I crave
I cant take it if you see me cry
I long for peace before I die
All I want is to know that youre there
Youre gonna give me all your sweet -
Mother love
My bodys aching, but I cant sleep
My dreams are all the company I keep
Got such a feeling as the sun goes down
Im coming home to my sweet -
Mother love
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The broken nest
The parents built it nicely
And I saw the gooey clay
They've plastered well inside
for their comfort.
But the nestlings
flew away in the serene sky
without leaving a trace
When their wings were strong enough.
O the old parent birds were looking into the sky
for their goodwill return,
But their sad chirping
Do they hear?
[Love is a friendship set to music.]-E.Joseph Cossman
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Sight Such As This
To keep her brood inside safe, protected
The mother swan spreads wide her wings,
A sight such as this I have reflected
Showed me a glimpse of His Divine caring.
All creation testify His Kindness
Boundless, infinite, given free.
Loving, awesome His Faithfulness
Yes, the LORD is good and full of Mercy!
............................. ..........
'He will cover you with His feathers,
and under His wings you will find refuge;
His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.'
Psalm 91: 4
A Sight Such As This
by Cynthia Buhain Baello
August 29,2012
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Riverside Walk
The wildering flowers bloom beautiful and gay
Along the green banks of the water way
And joyful songbirds whistling merrily
With tiny hearts brimful of ecstasy.
And all seem perfect save for water flowing gray
But pollution is a common thing nowaday
And keeping rivers clean don't appeal to modern man
As it's not part of his progression plan.
From her nest midst water reeds dark moorhen fly
And she utter forth a shrill like chirping cry
A warning to her little moorhen chicks
To leave their nest and head for cover quick.
From reed built nest four young dark moorhens creep
With bright orange bills and as they swim they cheep
And head for cover towards the river bank
And hide themselves midst rushes green and rank.
I walked along in pensive solitude
And a quarter mile down stream from Moorhen brood
I came upon what I don't often times see
A mallard out swimming with family.
From mother duck a warning sound did ring
She beat the water with her flapping wings
And her seven ducklings her signal did obey
And dived under water and hid themselves away.
The mother duck was circling in the sky
Whilst all of the time on me she kept an eye
And her anxiety for her family did grow
And she quacked aloud warning them not to show.
And as I walked homeward in the gloam of day
The wildborn birds piped with the joys of May
And my thoughts were of wild duck and moorhen
And tainted water for man a shameful sin.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Words are like eggs: when they are hatched they have wings.
When We Dance
If he loved you
Like I love you
I would walk away in shame
I'd move town
I'd change my name
When he watches you
When he counts to buy your soul
On your hand his golden rings
Like he owns a bird that sings
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
The priest has said my soul's salvation
Is in the balance of the angels
And underneath the wheels of passion
I keep the faith in my fashion
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
I'm still in love with you
[I'm gonna find a place to live
Give you all I've got to give]
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
If I could break down these walls
And shout my name at heaven's gate
I'd take these hands
And I'd destroy the dark machineries of fate
Cathedrals are broken
Heaven's no longer above
And hellfire's a promise away
I'd still be saying
I'm still in love
He won't love you
Like I love you
He won't care for you this way
He'll mistreat you if you stay
Come and live with me
We'll have children of our own
I would love you more than life
If you'll come and be my wife
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
I'm gonna love you more than life
If you will only be my wife
I'm gonna love you more than life
If you will only be my wife
I'm gonna love you night and day
I'm gonna try in every way
[I had a dream last night
I dreamt you were by my side
Walking with me baby
My heart was filled with pride
I had a dream last night]
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words are like newly hatched eggs: they already have wings.
Darwins Children
Seven million years of progress handed down on silver wings
Of gossamer and protein still we havent learned a thing
Are we caught up in our anger, locked up in our rage
In the opera of selection on this our earthly stage
And charlies spinning laughing, laughing in his grave
Laughing at the prophecy, the prophecy he gave
Can we spread our wings like angels, can we break out of the grind
Are we destined to be darwins children this time
The ribbons of our cigarettes vanish in the ai
Rin the glow of our great teacher we sit and blankly stare
And the sky could open up and what would we have to say
Something cute about burning out, better than fading away
And charlies spinning laughing, laughing in his grave
Laughing at the prophecy, the prophecy he gave
Can we spread our wings like angels, can we break out of the grind
Are we destined to be darwins children this time
On the wings of invention now we hurdle toward our fate
As sure as the sunset burns
Collective resignation, evolutionary fate
When will we ever learn
And charlies spinning laughing, laughing in his grave
Laughing at the prophecy, the prophecy he gave
Can we spread our wings like angels, can we break out of the grind
Are we destined to be darwins children this time
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thomas Ross, Jr.
This I saw with my own eyes:
A cliff-swallow
Made her nest in a hole of the high clay-bank
There near Miller's Ford.
But no sooner were the young hatched
Than a snake crawled up to the nest
To devour the brood.
Then the mother swallow with swift flutterings
And shrill cries
Fought at the snake,
Blinding him with the beat of her wings,
Until he, wriggling and rearing his head,
Fell backward down the bank
Into Spoon River and was drowned.
Scarcely an hour passed
Until a shrike
Impaled the mother swallow on a thorn.
As for myself I overcame my lower nature
Only to be destroyed by my brother's ambition.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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The Angel's Kiss
An angel stood beside the bed
Where lay the living and the dead.
He gave the mother -- her who died --
A kiss that Christ the Crucified
Had sent to greet the weary soul
When, worn and faint, it reached its goal.
He gave the infant kisses twain,
One on the breast, one on the brain.
"Go forth into the world," he said,
"With blessings on your heart and head,
"For God, who ruleth righteously,
Hath ordered that to such as be
"From birth deprived of mother's love,
I bring His blessing from above;
"But if the mother's life he spare
Then she is made God's messenger
"To kiss and pray that heart and brain
May go through life without a stain."
The infant moved towards the light,
The angel spread his wings in flight.
But each man carries to his grave
The kisses that in hopes to save
The angel or his mother gave.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Storage Space
She had been asked to use her uterus,
To incubate the birth of someone else's child.
She was asked if she would keep it baked...
And to become a surrogate,
For a while.
I know my ideals are old fashion.
And a gift wished by another,
Should not be denied.
But if I carried something within me,
For nine months.
It would be hard to see...
Someone take it from my side.
Or denied me the opportunity...
To rush to comfort my child,
When my child cried.
Some have called me a 'mother'.
By another name attached and meant.
And perhaps it is good I am not that kind.
Since I can not perceive myself...
As a storage space,
To be paid nine months for rent!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Goat Paths
The crooked paths go every way
Upon the hill - they wind about
Through the heather in and out
Of the quiet sunniness.
And there the goats, day after day,
Stray in sunny quietness,
Cropping here and cropping there,
As they pause and turn and pass,
Now a bit of heather spray,
Now a mouthful of the grass.
In the deeper sunniness,
In the place where nothing stirs,
Quietly in quietness,
In the quiet of the furze,
For a time they come and lie
Staring on the roving sky.
If you approach they run away,
They leap and stare, away they bound,
With a sudden angry sound,
To the sunny quietude;
Crouching down where nothing stirs
In the silence of the furze,
Couching down again to brood
In the sunny solitude.
If I were as wise as they
I would stray apart and brood,
I would beat a hidden way
Through he quiet heather spray
To a sunny solitude;
And should you come I'd run away,
I would make an angry sound,
I would stare and turn and bound
To the deeper quietude,
To the place where nothing stirs
In the silence of the furze.
In that airy quietness
I would think as long as they;
Through the quiet sunniness
I would stray away to brood
By a hidden beaten way
In a sunny solitude.
I would think until I found
Something I can never find,
Something lying on the ground,
In the bottom of my mind.
poem by James Stephens
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In Reference to her Children, 23 June 1659
I had eight birds hatched in one nest,
Four cocks there were, and hens the rest.
I nursed them up with pain and care,
Nor cost, nor labour did I spare,
Till at the last they felt their wing,
Mounted the trees, and learned to sing;
Chief of the brood then took his flight
To regions far and left me quite.
My mournful chirps I after send,
Till he return, or I do end:
Leave not thy nest, thy dam and sire,
Fly back and sing amidst this choir.
My second bird did take her flight,
And with her mate flew out of sight;
Southward they both their course did bend,
And seasons twain they there did spend,
Till after blown by southern gales,
They norward steered with filled sails.
A prettier bird was no where seen,
Along the beach among the treen.
I have a third of colour white,
On whom I placed no small delight;
Coupled with mate loving and true,
Hath also bid her dam adieu;
And where Aurora first appears,
She now hath perched to spend her years.
One to the academy flew
To chat among that learned crew;
Ambition moves still in his breast
That he might chant above the rest
Striving for more than to do well,
That nightingales he might excel.
My fifth, whose down is yet scarce gone,
Is 'mongst the shrubs and bushes flown,
And as his wings increase in strength,
On higher boughs he'll perch at length.
My other three still with me nest,
Until they're grown, then as the rest,
Or here or there they'll take their flight, As is ordained, so shall they light.
If birds could weep, then would my tears
Let others know what are my fears
Lest this my brood some harm should catch,
And be surprised for want of watch,
Whilst pecking corn and void of care,
They fall un'wares in fowler's snare,
Or whilst on trees they sit and sing,
Some untoward boy at them do fling,
Or whilst allured with bell and glass,
The net be spread, and caught, alas.
Or lest by lime-twigs they be foiled,
Or by some greedy hawks be spoiled.
O would my young, ye saw my breast,
And knew what thoughts there sadly rest,
Great was my pain when I you fed,
Long did I keep you soft and warm,
And with my wings kept off all harm,
My cares are more and fears than ever,
My throbs such now as 'fore were never.
Alas, my birds, you wisdom want,
Of perils you are ignorant;
Oft times in grass, on trees, in flight,
Sore accidents on you may light.
O to your safety have an eye,
So happy may you live and die.
Meanwhile my days in tunes I'll spend,
Till my weak lays with me shall end.
In shady woods I'll sit and sing,
And things that past to mind I'll bring.
Once young and pleasant, as are you,
But former toys (no joys) adieu.
My age I will not once lament,
But sing, my time so near is spent.
And from the top bough take my flight
Into a country beyond sight,
Where old ones instantly grow young,
And there with seraphims set song;
No seasons cold, nor storms they see;
But spring lasts to eternity.
When each of you shall in your nest
Among your young ones take your rest,
In chirping language, oft them tell,
You had a dam that loved you well,
That did what could be done for young,
And nursed you up till you were strong,
And 'fore she once would let you fly,
She showed you joy and misery;
Taught what was good, and what was ill,
What would save life, and what would kill.
Thus gone, amongst you I may live,
And dead, yet speak, and counsel give:
Farewell, my birds, farewell adieu,
I happy am, if well with you.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
Submitted by anonym
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In Reference to her Children
I had eight birds hatched in one nest,
Four cocks there were, and hens the rest.
I nursed them up with pain and care,
Nor cost, nor labour did I spare,
Till at the last they felt their wing,
Mounted the trees, and learned to sing;
Chief of the brood then took his flight
To regions far and left me quite.
My mournful chirps I after send,
Till he return, or I do end:
Leave not thy nest, thy dam and sire,
Fly back and sing amidst this choir.
My second bird did take her flight,
And with her mate flew out of sight;
Southward they both their course did bend,
And seasons twain they there did spend,
Till after blown by southern gales,
They norward steered with filled sails.
A prettier bird was no where seen,
Along the beach among the treen.
I have a third of colour white,
On whom I placed no small delight;
Coupled with mate loving and true,
Hath also bid her dam adieu;
And where Aurora first appears,
She now hath perched to spend her years.
One to the academy flew
To chat among that learned crew;
Ambition moves still in his breast
That he might chant above the rest
Striving for more than to do well,
That nightingales he might excel.
My fifth, whose down is yet scarce gone,
Is 'mongst the shrubs and bushes flown,
And as his wings increase in strength,
On higher boughs he'll perch at length.
My other three still with me nest,
Until they're grown, then as the rest,
Or here or there they'll take their flight,
As is ordained, so shall they light.
If birds could weep, then would my tears
Let others know what are my fears
Lest this my brood some harm should catch,
And be surprised for want of watch,
Whilst pecking corn and void of care,
They fall un'wares in fowler's snare,
Or whilst on trees they sit and sing,
Some untoward boy at them do fling,
Or whilst allured with bell and glass,
The net be spread, and caught, alas.
Or lest by lime-twigs they be foiled,
Or by some greedy hawks be spoiled.
O would my young, ye saw my breast,
And knew what thoughts there sadly rest,
Great was my pain when I you fed,
Long did I keep you soft and warm,
And with my wings kept off all harm,
My cares are more and fears than ever,
My throbs such now as 'fore were never.
Alas, my birds, you wisdom want,
Of perils you are ignorant;
Oft times in grass, on trees, in flight,
Sore accidents on you may light.
O to your safety have an eye,
So happy may you live and die.
Meanwhile my days in tunes I'll spend,
Till my weak lays with me shall end.
In shady woods I'll sit and sing,
And things that past to mind I'll bring.
Once young and pleasant, as are you,
But former toys (no joys) adieu.
My age I will not once lament,
But sing, my time so near is spent.
And from the top bough take my flight
Into a country beyond sight,
Where old ones instantly grow young,
And there with seraphims set song;
No seasons cold, nor storms they see;
But spring lasts to eternity.
When each of you shall in your nest
Among your young ones take your rest,
In chirping language, oft them tell,
You had a dam that loved you well,
That did what could be done for young,
And nursed you up till you were strong,
And 'fore she once would let you fly,
She showed you joy and misery;
Taught what was good, and what was ill,
What would save life, and what would kill.
Thus gone, amongst you I may live,
And dead, yet speak, and counsel give:
Farewell, my birds, farewell adieu,
I happy am, if well with you.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent Legacy
Why did you steal the matches
From the one room motel
Once they gave you answers
Now they give you hell
They will never understand
They wonder where did they go wrong
How could you be so selfish
Why can't you get along
[CHORUS]
And as you pray in your darkness
For wings to set you free
You are bound to your silent legacy
You've seen it in the movies
And you've heard it on the street
Craving the affection
Your blood is full of heat
They don't listen to your reasons
As original as sin
Deny all that you feel
And they will bring you home again
[CHORUS]
Your body is alive
But no one told you what you'd feel
The empty aching hours
Trying to conceal
The natural progression
Is the coming of your age
But they cover it with shame
And turn it into rage
[CHORUS]
You are digging for the answers
Until your fingers bleed
To satisfy the hunger
To satiate the need
They feed you on the guilt
To keep you humble keep you low
Some man and myth they made up
A thousand years ago
[CHORUS]
Mothers tell your children
Be quick you must be strong
Life is full of wonder
Love is never wrong
Remember how they taught you
How much of it was fear
Refuse to hand it down
The legacy stops here
Oh my child...
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Since You've Been Gone
I learned this; it goes on
This irresistable desire
Why was love denied to me
Beauty stood on my path
But though nurtured carefully
She walked away
And I brood in moods most foul
I wanted her thoughts, her dreams
But you cannot have
That which cannot be given
I wanted to know her secrets
But you cannot know
That which cannot be known
I wanted her to come away
And take my hand
But now I am alone
And my world is more full of weepin'
Than you can understand
poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eggxample
What came first chickens or eggs?
Chickens of course!
Chickens have legs!
Chickens have feathers,
Eggs have a shell,
How would you like your eggs, done well?
This may be a 'yolk',
But consider it folk!
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Legend Of Dream
A journalist asked me if I knew anything about the boy named Dream,
and how he became the greatest legend that the world had ever seen.
I was the mid-wife, so I’ve known Dream since the day he was born
he was delivered inside a bubble and the skin was whole and untorn.
This handsome boy had golden hair and the most beautiful blue eyes,
but he had a growth upon his shoulders and this made his mother cry.
She asked if it could be removed, so he would be accepted by everyone,
and I told her that it could, and by the age of seven it should be done.
However, after two weeks his mother took him to see a top Paediatrician
who had Dream x-rayed, he later told her of his diagnosis and decision.
Her son’s problem was that he had wings beneath his skin on his shoulders,
which should be allowed to form and grow naturally until he’s older.
And because he was so unique she should send him to a special school
where she could stay whilst he was taught and treated as an individual.
Dream’s mother accepted his proposal and they moved away from the city,
she wrote to me regularly and I visited them as a friend, and not out of pity.
As dream became able to walk, talk, and take notice, he asked his mother
why he couldn’t stand erect, and why he had a lump across his shoulder.
She explained to him in a story about a caterpillar, a chrysalis and a butterfly,
this seemed to pacify him and cheered him up, but then he began to cry.
“I don’t want this lump on my back mummy I want to be like other boys.”
“I’m sorry Dream, but I believe your purpose in life will show in due course,
as you get older the doctors will recommend the best treatment for you,
and then it will be up to you to decide what you want to do.”
Throughout the following years Dream was treated with respect and care,
he was educated by the finest of teachers that could be found anywhere.
He was tall for his age and he developed talents in many extraordinary things
however, on his seventh birthday he suffered pain from his growing wings.
The surgeons decided to operate and free the wings from beneath his skin,
and as soon as his skin was cut the wings moved back and forth within.
They slowly broke through the cuts and opened out to an enormous span,
everyone stood back amazed by the beauty of this now boyish man.
Even dream was surprised and amazed, as he stood for the first time erect,
opening and closing them he admired their beauty, and their uplifting effect.
The confined space forced him to closed them, so they hugged to his back,
he returned to the operating table for the surgeons to stitch a holding sack.
His mother reminding him about the chrysalis and the butterfly made him smile,
at that point she knew her angel like son was destined for something worth while.
She also knew that Dream would now have to continue his education at home,
but this was no upheaval he enjoyed escaping the bullies, and his time alone.
It wasn’t long before Dream ventured out at night and practiced the art of flying;
he rested on a building and watched the world go by, but then he began sighing,
seeing the street crime below reminded him so much of his bullied days at school,
so he decided to be an avenger of the innocent, and a punisher of the evil and cruel.
He became known as the ‘Flying Avenger’ and fought crime in anyway he could
and if heads and eggs had to be broken, then omelettes were made for the good.
Not everyone approved of his methods, but the streets became safer with Dream
and no one could deny that when he appeared, he kept the dirty streets clean.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never escaping
All my life i've never seen the rainbow.So much thunderstorm it was so austere and curtness.Now I see the rainbow it's devoid of water and garish.It's my prerogative to see the rainbow.The light that shines below it.I was so flighty to to not accept the beauty.I hope it don't expunge from me.I deserve to see what's been hiding from me.To see the thunderstorm is unfathomable.I felt so melancholy it doused me with water flighty of my ways, I wish that rainbow could substain.Rainbow so benign, Thunderstorm looks so asinine.I can gape at the amazement there's not an anologous about the two of them.In my ears I could here crooning.
poem by Iesha Wilborn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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