To Those Who Don't Moo
If a cow doesn't drink milk,
To get its moo.
And a chicken doesn't eat an egg,
To cluck.
Why do we pay taxes...
To those who don't moo,
But cluck us up?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Macdonald
(words & music by randy starr)
Old macdonald had a farm, ee-i-ee-i-o
And on that farm he had some chicks, ee-i-ee-i-o
With a cluck, cluck here, a cluck, cluck there
Loud as they could be
And when those chicks got out of line
Chicken fricasse
With a cluck, cluck here, a cluck, cluck there
Loud as they could be
And when those chicks got out of line
Chicken fricasse
Well, old macdonald had a farm, ee-i-ee-i-o
And on that farm he had some cows, ee-i-ee-i-o
With a moo, moo here, a moo, moo there
Cattle everywhere
And when those cows got out of line
Hamburger, medium rare
With a moo, moo here, a moo, moo there
Cattle everywhere
And when those cows got out of line
Hamburger, medium rare
Ohh, well, old macdonald had a farm, ee-i-ee-i-o
And on that farm he had some pigs, ee-i-ee-i-o
With an oink, oink here, an oink, oink there
Pigs everywhere in sight
And when those pigs got out of line
Pork and beans at night
With an oink, oink here, an oink, oink there
Pigs everywhere in sight
And when those pigs got out of line
Pork and beans at night
Well Im goona have a farm one day, ee-i-e-i-o
And Ill do things mcdonalds way, ee-i-e-i-o
With a cluck, cluck here, a cluck, cluck there
A moo, moo here, a moo, moo there
An oink, oink here, an oink, oink there
And I can promise you
If those animals ever get out of line
Well have a mulligan stew
How about you?
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Duck
Behold the duck.
It does not cluck.
A cluck it lacks.
It quacks.
It is specially fond
Of a puddle or pond.
When it dines or sups,
It bottoms ups.
poem by Ogden Nash
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chicken Pot Pie
When we were young, bernies deli was down the block
(ooh ooh ooh ooh)
He made a great liver pate
(you know he did, you know he did, you know he did)
But if theres one thing in this world that I like better
Than a corned beef on rye
Its chicken pot pie
Chicken pot pie
(chorus of chicken-cluck imitations)
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Minnie And Mattie
Minnie and Mattie
And fat little May,
Out in the country,
Spending a day.
Such a bright day,
With the sun glowing,
And the trees half in leaf,
And the grass growing.
Pinky white pigling
Squeals through his snout,
Woolly white lambkin
Frisks all about.
Cluck! cluck! the nursing hen
Summons her folk, -
Ducklings all downy soft
Yellow as yolk.
Cluck! cluck! the mother hen
Summons her chickens
To peck the dainty bits
Found in her pickings.
Minnie and Mattie
And May carry posies,
Half of sweet violets,
Half of primroses.
Give the sun time enough,
Glowing and glowing,
He'll rouse the roses
And bring them blowing.
Don't wait for roses
Losing to-day,
O Minnie, Mattie,
And wise little May.
Violets and primroses
Blossom to-day
For Minnie and Mattie
And fat little May.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Because
Just because you did
Doesn't mean that you should
Just because you can
Doesn't mean that you could
Just because you are able
Doesn't mean you would
Just because you sat
Doesn't mean you should‘ve stood.
Just because you spoke
Doesn't mean that you thought
Just because you looked
Doesn't mean that you sought
Just because you argued
Doesn't mean that you fought
Just because you dreamed
Doesn't mean that you wished not.
Just because you cried
Doesn't mean that you wept
Just because you had
Doesn't mean that you kept
Just because you cleaned
Doesn't mean that you swept
Just because you said yes
Doesn't mean that you accept.
Just because you gathered
Doesn't mean that you own
Just because you gave up
Doesn't mean that you were alone
Just because you saw
Doesn't mean that you were shown
Just because you expiate
Doesn't mean you should atone.
Just because your old
Doesn't mean that you have flaws
Just because you won
Doesn't mean you have to applause
Just because you waited
Doesn't mean that you paused
Just because you were you
Doesn't mean anything, because.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The Muscovy Duck
The rooster is a brainless dude, although he sports a crest,
The hen’s an awful fool we know, though hen-eggs are the best;
She’ll flutter, cackling, anywhere save through a gate or door,
And try to hatch a door-knob, too, for forty days or more.
The turkey is of small account, we’ll let it go in peace,
And other fowls are ornaments, and geese are simply geese;
But over all that cackle, hiss, or gobble, quack, or cluck,
My favourite shall always be the quaint Muscovy duck.
I’m fond of Mrs Muscovy, I think she knows the most
Of all the different kinds of fowls that poultry-breeders boast.
She knows best how to build her nest when laying time is past,
And you should see the knowing pride with which she sets at last.
She waddles out for food and drink—she’s not afraid of us,
And if we fix her now and then she doesn’t make a fuss;
No frantic flaps of useless wings, no cackle, hiss, nor cluck,
She’s queen of all philosophers—the quaint Muscovy duck.
It is a wondrous thing to see, and a wondrous thing to tell,
Her ducklings know as much as ducks the day they leave the shell.
That she is proud as proud can be, is plain to any dunce—
The little ducklings set to work to grow up ducks at once;
And, on a sunny winter’s day, ’tis a good thing for the eyes
To see her waddle round and watch her ducklings catching flies,
I love her for her waddle, and her patience, and her pluck,
Her wag of tail and nod of head—the quaint Muscovy duck.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Ballad of Another Ophelia
Oh the green glimmer of apples in the orchard,
Lamps in a wash of rain!
Oh the wet walk of my brown hen through the stackyard,
Oh tears on the window pane!
Nothing now will ripen the bright green apples,
Full of disappointment and of rain,
Brackish they will taste, of tears, when the yellow dapples
Of autumn tell the withered tale again.
All round the yard it is cluck, my brown hen,
Cluck, and the rain-wet wings,
Cluck, my marigold bird, and again
Cluck for your yellow darlings.
For the grey rat found the gold thirteen
Huddled away in the dark,
Flutter for a moment, oh the beast is quick and keen,
Extinct one yellow-fluffy spark.
Once I had a lover bright like running water,
Once his face was laughing like the sky;
Open like the sky looking down in all its laughter
On the buttercups, and the buttercups was I.
What, then, is there hidden in the skirts of all the blossom?
What is peeping from your wings, oh mother hen?
’Tis the sun who asks the question, in a lovely haste for wisdom;
What a lovely haste for wisdom is in men!
Yea, but it is cruel when undressed is all the blossom,
And her shift is lying white upon the floor,
That a grey one, like a shadow, like a rat, a thief, a rain-storm,
Creeps upon her then and gathers in his store.
Oh the grey garner that is full of half-grown apples,
Oh the golden sparkles laid extinct!
And oh, behind the cloud-sheaves, like yellow autumn dapples,
Did you see the wicked sun that winked!
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sister Cat
Cat stands at the fridge,
Cries loudly for milk.
But I've filled her bowl.
Wild cat, I say, Sister,
Look, you have milk.
I clink my fingernail
Against the rim. Milk.
With down and liver,
A word I know she hears.
Her sad miaow. She runs
To me. She dips
In her whiskers but
Doesn't drink. As sometimes
I want the light on
When it is on. Or when
I saw the woman walking
toward my house and
I thought there's Frances.
Then looked in the car mirror
To be sure. She stalks
The room. She wants. Milk
Beyond milk. World beyond
This one, she cries.
poem by Frances Mayes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXXI: It doesn't mean any harm
It may be provocative
It may be disturbing
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be rough
It may be emotional
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be wild
It may be rebellious
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may go unplanned
It may look careless
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be a nuisance
It may be a mistake
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be a mess
It may be complicated
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be slow progress
It may test the patience
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be a hard blow
It may shake the faith
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be cursed
It may be judged cruel
But it doesn't mean any harm
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strange Restaurant
I said, 'I'll take the T-bone steak.'
A soft voice mooed, 'Oh wow.'
And I looked up and realized
The waitress was a cow.
I cried, 'Mistake--forget the the steak.
I'll take the chicken then.'
I heard a cluck--'twas just my luck
The busboy was a hen.
I said, 'Okay no, fowl today.
I'll have the seafood dish.'
Then I saw through the kitchen door
The cook--he was a fish.
I screamed, 'Is there anyone workin' here
Who's an onion or a beet?
No? Your're sure? Okay then friends,
A salad's what I'll eat.'
They looked at me. 'Oh,no,' they said,
'The owner is a cabbage head.'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Sense Defect
Though I can not see, it doesn’t mean I can not listen
Though I can not hear, it doesn’t mean I can not scent
Though I can not smell, it doesn’t mean I can not savor
Though I can not taste, it doesn’t mean I can not appreciate
Though I can not feel, it doesn’t mean I can not watch
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Void
I've seen so many faces
These hands have lied before
I've kissed so many lips it's blocked my mind
I've whispered bullshit, nothings
I've cried alone in night
I thought I'd found the one a million times
But doesn't anyone fill the void?
Doesn't anyone kill the joy?
Doesn't anyone take the place of you in my heart?
And doesn't anyone fill the void?
Doesn't anyone kill the joy?
Doesn't anyone take the place of you?
I let a stranger love me
I gave away my pride
I bit my lips, so I could block my mind
I've called your name to others
Just like a spinal chord
Severed and broken but the spark still tries
And doesn't anyone fill the void?
Doesn't anyone kill the joy?
Doesn't anyone take the place of you in my heart?
Doesn't anyone fill the void?
Doesn't anyone kill the noise?
Doesn't anyone take the place of you?
They don't know you like I do
They don't see the good inside you
They don't lie with you in bed and join you when you're dreaming
They don't see your softer side
Who'll be there to turn your light on?
Who will try to wash away the stain that love has left us?
Doesn't anyone fill the void?
Doesn't anyone kill the joy?
Doesn't anyone kill the place of you in my heart?
Doesn't anyone bring the noise?
Doesn't anyone kill the joy?
Doesn't anyone take the place of you?
song performed by by Darren Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Sit And Hope
And hope
hope
that you my love,
doesn't get snatched,
like a chick from the chicken,
stolen away by pradators
That you my dear
will lock the doors in time
when am away,
so the predators,
those coveters
of my sweet fruit,
doesn't eat in my wake
or drink from my cup
My love
i sit hoping,
and hope
That when path is dark
with despair,
when no strength
be left in you,
that you will turn to the light
of our laughter,
and you will bask,
in sun of dreams we share.
I sit and hope
my love,
i sit and hope
poem by Mwenda Kirimi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Really Doesn't Matter
You say your ugly, i say it doesn't matter.
You say you have a dark past,
i say it doesn't matter.
You say theirs overwhelming responsibility,
i say it doesn't matter.
I don't believe in walking away when things get hard.
In fact they are my spark to continue my march.
Through thick and thin where to begin.
You say you don't have a way.
I say it doesn't matter.
You say that you cant give back what you would like.
I say it doesn't matter.
You say, you say oh it really doesn't matter,
I live one day at a time.
Choices will be made that will save the day
but hurt me financially.
It doesn't matter Choice will be made
that will set me back in my expectations.
It doesn't matter,
It really doesn't matter.
Its well worth it.
To see the beauty that
you have placed before me.
Oh how its worth it.
To settle down and not be looking to be found.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CII: little thing
Little thing sometimes forgotten, but it doesn’t mean it’s not important
Little thing sometimes neglected, but it doesn’t mean it’s not affecting
Little thing sometimes missed, but it doesn’t mean it’s not a threat
Little thing sometimes underestimated, but it doesn’t mean it’s not treating
Little thing sometimes ignored, but it doesn’t mean it’s disappeared
Little thing sometimes trifling, but it doesn’t mean it’s not needed
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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chicken crosses the road
humans laugh
chicken doesn't get it
haiku by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cat with milk
My cat
Not drink milk...
For today...
Yester day
My cat was
Try drink hot
Of milk...
Hot was hit...
For my cat mouth...
Cat was did not cry...
Run away for hot
Milk pot...
So...
Today coll milk also
My cat did not drink...
O...
I am very soory
For hot milk...
Come to drink milk....
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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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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