Chicken Feed on the Fortymile
I spent one summer on the Fortymile
not far from Chicken in Alaska
dredging with outboard motor
rigged to a device that sucked up
sand and dirt from river bottom
a coffee can of that summer
work sits on a shelf in the garage
to separate particles of gold
from black sand and soil
requires centrifugal force
which would yield chicken feed
small return for huge expense
poets and prospectors alike
scratch in the soil for simile
and metaphor but often
recover bits and pieces
tattered remnants of grand
potential unrealized
in reality
poets keep undigested
experience in notebooks
and failing memory
much as prospectors
keep black sand
in coffee cans
on forgotten shelves
chicken feed
minute specks of gold
in line and verse
can excite
like the gleam
of gold
in coffee can
poem by Michael Pruchnicki

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Panning for Gold on the Fortymile
I spent a summer panning for gold
on the Fortymile River at Tom's place
not far from Chicken
in Alaska
I remember the sunny days
and the hours scratching
in the cold river
The dark waters yielded
little but chicken-feed
specks of ore
separated from river sand
by centrifugal machines
powered by gas
chitty chitty bang bang
and a handful of bright
stuff I culled
I still got a coffee can
of river sand and chicken-feed
downstairs in a tool chest
poem by Michael Pruchnicki

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Coffee!
Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover

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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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Is it Tea or Coffee?
Is it Tea or Coffee?
Tell me!
My instant early morning dream
I like it black, white with sugar or cream!
The choice is free
Yet the mind cannot agree
With Tea is a Yippee!
With Coffee it is a Whoopee!
The thought of a little caffeine
The smell of fresh roasted beans
Will once again set off my adrenalin
While my exhausted brain is waiting
That stirring cup of sizzling black
Put on the kettle; spill the beans out of the sack
I will pay the fee; I will pay the levee
I will beg on one knee for a little bit of Coffee
Take a sip of the early morning coffee
Close your eyes and try to see
As you smell the airy aroma like a bee
Tea or Coffee! Perhaps you now understand me
Those swarms of dark brown seeds
They feed my vicious needs indeed
I don’t care how much I pee or how much I wee
For that sparking liquid of hot black called coffee
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi

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A Cup of Coffee
I start my day with coffee as my friend
The beans so fresh, as it blends
Giving out an aroma, that wakes me up
I stumble to the kitchen and look for the cup
I pour some black liquid and sip right away
I just want coffee, to start my day
Then on the road I'm on my way
Coffee is my friend to make my day
Stuck in traffic, I loose my mind
I then sip my coffee and just rewind
I get to work with a cup in hand
Juggling with papers I can't withstand
The coffee at work tastes bitter and cheap
But it's better than getting caught counting sheep
All day long, I make pot after pot
Of black steaming mugs of liquid gut-rot
Tanked up on coffee, I face the day
Taking anything that comes my way.
poem by Meena Mustafa

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419
tonight she takes us to Dubai
the place where new dreams are woven
from sand
they left the lands of their birth
to work in the land where
the color of gold is black
my friend writes:
the pot of gold is found right here
come, come and be with us
there is nothing in the land where you live
the promise is broken
there is no token
come, come and be with us
let us partake of this sadness
from the sand and sun of Dubai
you must say goodbye.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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The Pot Of Gold At The End Of The Rainbow
tonight she takes us to Dubai
the place where new dreams are woven
from sand
they left the lands of their birth
to work in the land where
the color of gold is black
my friend writes:
the pot of gold is found right here
come, come and be with us
there is nothing in the land where you live
the promise is broken
there is no token
come, come and be with us
let us partake of this sadness
from the sand and sun of Dubai
you must say goodbye.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Got That Feeling
Got that feeling
Luck is a little of it
I got that feeling
I cant stop winning
A to z
Look what youre missing
As we speak
Your numbers rising
Take a peak
Theres just enough to go around
Get a piece
Your own little piece of hell
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Got that feeling
Loving every minute of it
Got that feeling
I cant stop winning
Stop winning
Have a drink
A pot of coffee
Cannot think
To many friends here
Just an inch between striking out and striking rich
If thats the risk, why not take it, take it, take it
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get your gold
Got that feeling
Loving every minute of it
Got that feeling
I cant stop winning
And start living
Start winning
Start living
You cant borrow, tomorrow
song performed by by Faith No More

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Questions......
lady, (lady in black
gown, black hat, and
hand-gloves)
why do you want your
coffee black?
why do you always want
bitterness?
why always alone
sitting on a chair facing the sea
and drinking the salt of
the breeze
with your black coffee?
why sip bitterness
when
to my mind, coffee would be
better with cream
and honey
with someone beside you
facing the sea and
savoring the salt of the sea
with that black coffee of yours?
lady, why mourn
when joy is just around the bend?
why can't we be alone
together?
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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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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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

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52
father kills the black chicken
and marks a cross of blood
on the temple of the birthday celebrant
he claims life is a matter of sacrifice
a chicken dressed for something
The blood from the neck
of the chicken gushes forth
there is silence in this
bloody ritual
between father and son
inside both of them they
hold that the spirits understand
how they must be appeased
from all ills and bad luck
the son must be protected
a father then washes the knife
that killed the black chicken
he is ready to kill someday
somehow when
another human being just in case
kills a son, that brute that base.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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The Dressed Chicken
father kills the black chicken
and marks a cross of blood
on the temple of the birthday celebrant
he claims life is a matter of sacrifice
a chicken dressed for something
The blood from the neck
of the chicken gushes forth
there is silence in this
bloody ritual
between father and son
inside both of them they
hold that the spirits understand
how they must be appeased
from all ills and bad luck
the son must be protected
a father then washes the knife
that killed the black chicken
he is ready to kill someday
somehow when
another human being just in case
kills a son, that brute that base.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Your Every Color
I can see the red, white and free in you
You light the night up like the moon
And underneath your clouds, I see the blue
You're hopeless 'cause you tell the truth
The stars are jealous of your shine
If you were mine
There's not a thing I wouldn't do
You're black and beautiful, yellow, tan
You're white as light and soft as sand
With greens and greys and oh for days
A silver lining on the way you cover everyone
Just like a morning sun
You turn me into someone I would rather be
OOO- I love your every color
OOO- I love your everything
You wear the day around you
Like it's yours to stay around you
Maybe I could stay around you too
If that's alright with you
You're coffee brown and bubble gum pink
And oh I think the shade of you is on the brink
Of changing all the ways I see the world
I could drown inside a single drop
Of all the kinds of things you got
And all the kinds of things I'm not
Might just give me a chance to see
From way up where you are
Above the silent stars
Just dancing in the sky
You're better than any rainbow
You're brighter than the sun
You look like my first day of summer
When my spring is on the run
You're gold and more gold
And you're platinum too
With snow toned, copper attitude
I don't know what I'd do without you
I don't know what I'll do about you
song performed by by Train

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coffee
Coffee is
Secrat of
Every day
For morning
Eneargy...
To day id'not
Take cofee
Come with haadache...
And sleep;
My body also lazy..
The coffee making
Somthig
For me...
I want to avoid
Coffee
You also try
To avoid coffee
For your feautere
Health...
Take black tea
Is better with good....! ! !
poem by Otteri Selvakumar

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Strange Meeting Ii
Deep down in the depths of forgotten dreams
So far away so long ago it seems
The memory comes of a distant beach
Pale sand stretching far from reach
It was then I found my princess of the sand.
As I traced the foam, peebles beneath my feet
I looked behind, I saw this one so sweet
She came to me and I saw in her eyes
The heavy toll of a thousand eyes
I called her my princess of the sand.
She stared at me and my mind was in a maze
As we moved along in a summer sea-dream haze
She moved her mouth but there came no sound
The message she brought can never be found
But I called her my princess of the sand.
One moment we walked with the night breeze in our face
Then I looked, shed gone. of her presence there was no trace
Where she went or came from who can know
Or if shell ever return to help me know
Who she is, my princess of the sand.
Sometime when the summer nights come back
Ill go back to the sea, follow that sandy track
Ill look around, hope to find
That strange young dream, close behind
Ill call her my princess of the sand.
song performed by by Nick Drake

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer fun at the Beach
Summer fun is so grand
It's so fun too play in the sand
Summer time with family is so fun
you get to laugh and play in the sun
Running around on the beach
and for the ocean they try to reach
Summer fun is so grand
all the little kids run and play hand in hand
Get to play with a beach ball
seems like your there all day long
Making sand castles is really grand
just laughing and playing in the sand
Laughing, running, jumping, and jogging
screaming, shell collecting, beach walking and ball hogging
And all this summer fun has just begun,
I hope you read this poem when you done
poem by Attalia Gooden

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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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The Dole Of The King's Daughter (Breton)
Seven stars in the still water,
And seven in the sky;
Seven sins on the King's daughter,
Deep in her soul to lie.
Red roses are at her feet,
(Roses are red in her red-gold hair)
And O where her bosom and girdle meet
Red roses are hidden there.
Fair is the knight who lieth slain
Amid the rush and reed,
See the lean fishes that are fain
Upon dead men to feed.
Sweet is the page that lieth there,
(Cloth of gold is goodly prey,)
See the black ravens in the air,
Black, O black as the night are they.
What do they there so stark and dead?
(There is blood upon her hand)
Why are the lilies flecked with red?
(There is blood on the river sand.)
There are two that ride from the south and east,
And two from the north and west,
For the black raven a goodly feast,
For the King's daughter rest.
There is one man who loves her true,
(Red, O red, is the stain of gore!)
He hath duggen a grave by the darksome yew,
(One grave will do for four.)
No moon in the still heaven,
In the black water none,
The sins on her soul are seven,
The sin upon his is one.
poem by Oscar Wilde

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