Art and the philosophy of life

SPRING CHICKEN

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Okay, so the whole chicken thing started with the post about chickens and roller skates.  You can read the “comments,” that flew back and forth on the post with the large roller skate. Blogger Wordifull Melanie and laurie27Wsmith had some great ideas and the “CHICKEN THING,” was born. So, I will be posting chicken things, now and then, and Melanie will be writing a poem or two to go along with the artwork. So, that’s what all the chickens are about. Just having fun.

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while no longer a spring chicken
she pays no mind to henhouse picked

she takes pride in being organically bred
free range and corn fed

to modification she always said no
cause one she isn’t a GMO

GUEST POEM BY: http://wordifull.com/

Comments on: "SPRING CHICKEN" (12)

  1. Oh, great! I loves me some chickens. I’m currently sporting pajama bottoms with chickens all over them. 🙂

  2. Love the idea. Looking forward to see how things progress! 🙂

  3. Yeah! I reblogged this to my wordifull so we have double exposure lol

  4. Great idea. Thank you. Again, will do the poems as soon as possible.

  5. laurie27wsmith said:

    The chicken walked into the bar
    she bore a heavy load,
    I sidled up beside her
    and said, ‘Why’d ya cross the road?’
    She cast a glance at the barman
    and let out a mighty cluck,
    ‘What do they call you handsome.’
    I ruffled my feathers, ‘it’s Chuck.’
    The barman slid a heavy glass
    of lemonade and gin,
    it stopped before the tired hen,
    she gave a rueful grin.
    She dipped her beak deep in the glass,
    I certainly was impressed, she guzzled
    down that wicked drink,
    I thought, I’ll make a pass.
    ‘Now you’re a pretty Chickadee,’
    I chortled, with a leer. ‘I thought a tough
    old boiler would settle for a beer.’
    A tiny tear fell from her eye and hung
    off a silver feather,
    she opened up her loaded sack,
    now I certainly was a quiver.
    I didn’t know what it enclosed
    until she pulled a gun
    and pointed it at my scarlet comb
    and said, ‘Now listen son.
    I’ve lived a life of hardship, of musty
    corn and grit,
    and this old spring chicken ain’t
    taking anymore of it.
    I worked my tail off on the Rio Grande,
    smuggling large eggs over the border.
    Now I work for the Colonel, bagging
    big cockerels to order.
    So finish your drink you handsome
    chump and get ready to meet your maker.
    By the look of those big tender thighs
    you’ll be a Christmas baker.
    A shot rang out, the feathers flew,
    Big Red he was no more.
    Spring Chicken dumped him in
    her sack and waddled out the door.
    The barman stood and watched her go,
    his customers clucked in fright,
    as Spring Chicken crossed the road again
    disappearing in the night.
    By Laurie.

  6. I love it! I will try to figure out how to get it on the blog, if that’s okay with you. Thank you. Melanie will like it too, I’m sure.

  7. You are so bad! LOL

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