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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Snowball Is Back With His Hens
Poor snowball the white silky bantam cock not feeling well of late
His son big red has thrashed him he is in a sorry state
Dried blood on his neck feathers from the comb he has bled
He has really copped a hiding from his oldest offspring red.
Red and his half sibling cock white silky bantams by Steve and Annie to be sold
Around the yard with their parent hens they won't grow tired and old
In the fowl pen they are obliged to wait tomorrow at the break of day
Steve will take them in a box to the fowl dealing woman in the house across the way.
Snowball is back with his hens his aggressive son now behind lettuce wire
Will never have another chance of attacking his snow white sire
Snowball is Steve and Annie's favourite rooster and they decide who stay
And violence as big red will find out it does not always pay.
Snowball the silky bantam cock he crows in the backyard
With dried blood on his neck feathers and his comb from warring scarred
And tomorrow big red will be gone and snowball again will reign supreme
And he will recover from his wounds and regain his self esteem.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Many hens may be in love with one cock, but none will be jealous of the other.
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It is a sorry house where the hens crow and the cock is silent.
3: 51 A.m.
the cocks in the neighborhood
inside their fences are crowing
others answer the call as though
telling we are already awake and
ready for the day's fights,
one cock however remains rested
between his two ash-colored hens.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Woman’s pity
As a puppy is put to love the master
When she is brought from her mother,
Even so is the woman from her parents.
As a cow is free to follow the cowherd
When she is let out from the cowshed,
Even so is the housewife from her yard.
As a hen is set to ignore the cock
When she hatched her chicks,
Even so is the mother with her kids.
22.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Golden Pheasant
How wisely, she is camouflaged, while the cock blazes like an
…X……He is the bright plumed target for hunters to focus
……on………Heroes have been bred by her critical
………eye………….Hens select the showiest
…….......mate……………His resplendent
……………dress………………Her
………………choic e…………...!
poem by Diane Hine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Man cannot be chaste.
One bull can manage ten cows.
One cow cannot stand ten bulls.
A woman is at ease to be chaste.
To be so is man’s distaste
29.05.2001, Berh
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
While farmers generally allow one rooster for ten hens, ten men are scarcely sufficient to service one woman.
quote by Giovanni Boccaccio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Solo sex is man’s fantasy
Which part of a woman is not sexy
For a man who is manly crazy?
To him, her clothes and ornaments too.
His touch of her is not a must.
Her image in his brain will do.
A god send gift to human’s concept.
He indulges in sex with every woman,
Without a rape, without a consent,
Keeping them inside his head
And deriving pleasure from his fantasy.
29.05.2001, Berh
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To John Clare
Well, honest John, how fare you now at home?
The spring is come, and birds are building nests;
The old cock-robin to the sty is come,
With olive feathers and its ruddy breast;
And the old cock, with wattles and red comb,
Struts with the hens, and seems to like some best,
Then crows, and looks about for little crumbs,
Swept out by little folks an hour ago;
The pigs sleep in the sty; the bookman comes--
The little boy lets home-close nesting go,
And pockets tops and taws, where daisies blow,
To look at the new number just laid down,
With lots of pictures, and good stories too,
And Jack the Giant-killer's high renown.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
What is true love?
True love is,
When you are called upon
To make a sacrifice.
You must do it feeling no pain.
30.05.2001, Berh
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!