God created the egg
And the first chicken was born
Next the rooster, aman
haiku by Ken e Hall
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Related quotes
Happy Easter
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
To strut and cluck for someone sleeping,
To get up.
And do that if programmed before the dawn shows up.
And if that rooster gets into a rut...
Who will then do the clucking?
Or wake up,
To collect the eggs!
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
To strut and cluck for someone sleeping,
To get up.
And do that if programmed before the dawn shows up.
And if that rooster gets into a rut...
Who will then do,
The clucking?
Or wake up,
To collect the eggs!
'Happy Easter'
~Do you notice anything different about those eggs? ~
'Yeah!
They are colored.
Why? '
~They are for the Easter Egg Hunt.
Put them back.~
'Oh!
I must be dreaming.
I thought I heard a rooster crow.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Calm Mind
beside the house
he sits on an inclined rattan chair
his feet rest on a graveled ground
his head focuses on
a rooster beside
a chicken leading its chicks
to feed on rice hulls
spread under the
mahogany tree
how many months pass
when the two were
put here?
oh the rooster has
fathered a dozen chicks
and proud perhaps
he crows loudly
announcing his
paternal joy!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paternity
beside the house
he sits on an inclined rattan chair
his feet rest on a graveled ground
his head focuses on
a rooster beside
a chicken leading its chicks
to feed on rice hulls
spread under the
mahogany tree
how many months pass
when the two were
put here?
oh the rooster has
fathered a dozen chicks
and proud perhaps
he crows loudly
announcing his
paternal joy!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crow Black Chicken
(laurence wilson)
Well, I went on the mountain
And I gave my horn a blow
Thought I heard some purty gal say
Yonder come my beau
Crow black chicken and crow for a day
Crow black chicken and fly away
Crow black chicken and-a ...
I like chicken pie
Well, the hardest work that ever I done
Is plowin a field of rye
The easiest work that ever I done
Was eatin chicken pie
Chicken crow for midnight
And chicken crow for a day
Along come an owl, lord, have mercy
And stole my chicken away
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Electric Slide
No I am not a Spring chicken.
Nor think of me,
As a Canadian Winter goose.
And I don't strut around at dawn,
Like a rooster to awaken those who yawn.
But I do know all the steps,
To the Electric Slide!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Im Going Back Home
Rudy stevenson
Im going back home where I was born
First I planned to stay but I cant live this way
Im going back home where I was born
Try to understand I think this citys grand
But with all its charme give me the little country farm
Im going back home where I was born
Oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah now oh yeah
I tell you all about it I think you ought to know
Tell you all about it why I wanna go
I miss the country preacher and the house of prayer
I miss the bootlegger smelling in the air
Miss friendly faces and the country smiles
The crickets singing you can hear it for miles
Miss the rooster crowing at the break of dawn
Yes it all happens where I was born
Miss the fried chicken colored greens
Miss the hot biscuits and the lima beans
Miss the prayer meeting where the people pray
With the drum beating till the break of day
You can have it you can have it
You can have it you can have it
You can have thy town I wont be around
This here lifes too fast but ll never never last
Im going back home where I was born
I got to go home got to go home
Where the people are real people can feel
Got to go down got to go down
Leave here today on my way so long so long
Going back home going back home
Got to go home got to go home
Got to go home got to go home
Where I where I was born
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Utilitarian Point Of View
as the gray hen cackles looking for a place to lay her eggs
the red rooster looks for another white hen to shuffle on the ground,
we who see this does not condemn, nay we never think of morality
or codes of ethical conduct, as the rooster is just doing the work that nature and man have assigned to it
no hen ever complains that the rooster has copulated with the other
six hens around the poultry in the backyard and in the garden
neither shall we reprimand the rooster for being so restless and
cocky and prolific or as we call it engages in promiscuous sex
all that we are thinking on that moment are the eggs that each hen can lay, our minds looking forward to every morning's breakfast, when we shall choose, the usual delights: either scrambled or sunny side up or perhaps a hard-boiled egg for our personal consumption.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ode to Chickens
An Ode to Chickens
Oh chicken, oh chicken,
With orange little feet,
All white and fluffy,
So good to eat,
Oh chicken, oh chicken,
I will get you so fat,
Then I will kill you,
And eat you at last
poem by Trevor Cummins
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The Man
Aman said to the universe,
'Sir, I exist!'
'However,' replied the universe,
'The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.'
poem by Stephen Crane
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I Choose To Be A Rooster
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed from being locked up inside of a coop.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed from being locked up inside of a coop.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
And before the dawn,
I can disturb your sleep.
And as the Sun arises,
You wont hear from me a peep.
Because,
I choose to be a rooster.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
And before the dawn,
I can disturb your sleep.
And as the Sun arises,
You wont hear from me a peep.
Because,
I choose to be a rooster.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed from being locked up inside of a coop.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
Because,
I choose to be a rooster.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those Sexual Innuendos
Innocence has blown up in a puff!
Those,
Sexual innuendos...
Can stir things up!
And addict a kid to lust.
With a stirring that corrupts.
All those sexual innuendos,
Can stir things up.
And when children think of chicken...
They want to know if the rooster plucks.
And in what position does a chicken cluck.
Those,
Sexual innuendos...
Can stir things up!
And addict a kid to lust.
With a stirring that corrupts.
Those sexual innuendos...
That stir things up.
Are fed to feed attraction,
With a stirring things up!
And made to trap...
Weak minds to keep attracted.
Those sexual innuendos...
That stir things up.
Are fed to feed attraction,
With a stirring things up!
And made to trap...
Weak minds to keep attracted.
Those,
Sexual innuendos...
Can stir things up!
And addict a kid to lust.
With a stirring that corrupts.
All those sexual innuendos,
Can stir things up.
And when children think of chicken...
They want to know if the rooster plucks.
And in what position does a chicken cluck.
All those sexual innuendos,
Can stir things up.
All those sexual innuendos,
Can stir things up.
All those sexual innuendos,
Can stir things up.
Those,
Sexual innuendos...
Can stir things up!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode To Orange Chgicken
Orange chicken, oh orange chicken,
how much I love you.
You're sweet, sticky, and tangy, all at the same time,
you go great wi th soy sauce, but never with lime.
ode to orange chicken, which I love to devour,
it's been in my mouth so often, it knows that i have power.
It knows the names of my taste buds, Jill, Lil, and Bill,
sometimes the orange chicken is happy, but sometimes it's held against it's will.
Whenever I eat orange chicken, it goes CRUNCH, CRUNCH,
and I have to have chow mein, and that goes MUCH, MUNCH!
Ode to orange chicken, it is always in a bowl,
but did I mention, i also love eggrolls.
poem by Aubrey Harmel
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Yes Yes
when God created love he didn't help most
when God created dogs He didn't help dogs
when God created plants that was average
when God created hate we had a standard utility
when God created me He created me
when God created the monkey He was asleep
when He created the giraffe He was drunk
when He created narcotics He was high
and when He created suicide He was low
when He created you lying in bed
He knew what He was doing
He was drunk and He was high
and He created the mountians and the sea and fire at the same time
He made some mistakes
but when He created you lying in bed
He came all over His Blessed Universe.
Submitted by .eve.
poem by Charles Bukowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chicken Hearted
(bill justis)
My girlfriend slipped and fell
Now she's hanging from a cliff
I can't come to her rescue
But these flowers i must sniff
You see i'd really like to save her
But i aint got the nerve
I'm chicken hearted
I'm chicken hearted
I'm tryin' to kiss my girl
And it makes me want to faint
I'm scared of my own shadow
And afraid of what i ain't
I've no inspiration
I'm kinda yellow...
I'm chicken hearted,
I'm chicken hearted
Mama's in the workshop
Daddy's in the jail
I seem to be afraid
To go to work and make their bail
I guess my folks will have to stay there
Cos i'm just like a snail
I'm chicken hearted,
I'm chicken hearted
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you were born lucky, even your rooster will lay eggs.
Tender Buttons [Chicken]
CHICKEN.
Pheasant and chicken, chicken is a peculiar third.
CHICKEN.
Alas a dirty word, alas a dirty third alas a dirty third, alas a dirty bird.
CHICKEN.
Alas a doubt in case of more go to say what it is cress. What is it. Mean. Why. Potato. Loaves.
CHICKEN.
Stick stick call then, stick stick sticking, sticking with a chicken. Sticking in a extra succession, sticking in.
poem by Gertrude Stein
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Who Am I?
(1950) leonard bernstein
Who am i
Who am i
Was it all planned in advance
Or was I just born by chance in july
Who on earth am i
My friends only think of fun
Theyre such a curious a lot
Must I be the only one
Who thinks these mysterious thoughts
Some day Ill die
Will I ever live again
As a mountain lion
Or a rooster, a hen
Or a robin, or a wren, or a fly
Oh, who am i
Do you believe in reincarnation
Do you believe in reincarnation
Were you ever here before
Have you ever had dreams
That you knew were true
Some time before in your life
Have you ever had that experience
So you must question
All the truths that you know
All the love and the life
That you know and say
Who am i
Will I ever live again
As a mountain lion
Or a rooster, a hen
Or a robin, or a wren, or a fly
If Im one of those lives
That have been reincarnated again
And again, and again
Oh, who am i
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road
The chicken was undecided on whether to cross the road,
she was a short sighted chicken
who, not being able to see across the road
couldn't quite understand the advantages
of being on the other side.
People passing by the chicken
stopped to ask if she wanted to get across the road
but the chicken just clucked, indecisively,
looking very concerned as to her own
demise if she should attempt to.
After all, should she transverse the road
and avoid oncoming vehicles
she would then be stuck on the other side
but should she not, then she may well
feel unfulfilled, unaccomplished.
Not wanting to disappoint,
let down, or cause a disturbance
the chicken did a little shake,
a little flutter and hop, skipped
and jumped across the road.
A local lorry came hurtling towards her,
she saw the headlights, heard the horn
but too late! There were chicken bits
all over the place while a local
reporter took notes, writing:
We'll never know why the chicken
tried to cross that road in heavy traffic
but she was pronounced dead
on arrival at the local hospital.
They'll be no live chicken tonight.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Rooster
Ain't found a way to kill me yet
Eyes burn with stinging sweat
Seems every path leads me to nowhere
Wife and kids household pet
Army green was no safe bet
The bullets scream to me from somewhere
Here they come to snuff the rooster
Yeah here come the rooster
You know he ain't gonna die
No
song performed by by Alice In Chains from Dirt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time And Space
space is like an eggwhite
enclosing a
yellow yolk of this
chicken egg,
time grows and becomes
the chick
and it may become a hen or a rooster
but there is this element
of growing up which we call time,
time too dies, like that rooster
ran-over by a car,
the car is fate, and
fate is always acceptable as a
comfortable explanation,
the explanation becomes
your key and you switch it on
to make things move
time moves, and this time
becomes the key that strikes
the ignition to make the engine move and so
and the engine becomes your life,
and your life moves to places and travels on events of history
and sees the strips of a film of trees and post
streamlining your forehead
against a glass window
but your life can be so stagnant inside
a prison, this emptiness and this hollow space
becomes your garage, you stay put
you refuse to be free
and you are the door with lock and key.
there are many more, but this
time, time becomes so short, like
a yelping puppy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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