Bad Boy

The chicken thing

he was hip
and bad
and cool
the chicks
they really
dug him
they stood
in lines
to get a look
or maybe
even hug him
he clucked
and grunted
all the time
since language
was beneath him
that didn’t stop
the hens
of course
from stretching
out to reach him

*************************

GUEST POET: MELANIE http://wordifull.com/

all the brooding hens
seem to like’ what i’m givin’
everyday they flock around me

Stray cats got nothin’ on my strut
cause I’m the cock of the walk
and the ruler of the rink

Everybody knows
I am why
all the chicks cross the road!

GUEST POET: http://laurie27wsmith.wordpress.com/
Bad Boy rolled into the rink,
a real little tough.
The Bantams in the cheer squad
gave their feathers a mighty fluff.
He rolled around, all nonchalant
some reckoned a little cocky.
The he spied the Andalusian hen
the Bantams knew as Rockie.

Coming to a rolling stop, he turned
and preened and crowed.
Rockie turned her head away,
and she remained unbowed.
Come on my sweet, he cackled
sticking out a feathery wing,
we’ll zoom around and show these
fowl, who’s the master of the ring.

She spied his shiny Raybans
and leather jacket cool
and thought I’ll have a little fun,
with this over feathered fool.
They rolled out to the centre
where they preened and pranced
and crowed,
began their feathered, fancy dance,
the Bantams were overawed.
Then Rockie twirled and twisted,
leapt up in a looping prance
her movements, were poetic,
the audience were in a trance.

Bad Boy spied the Rhode Island Reds,
he heard their crowing snickers,
he took another look at Rockie,
she was showing her speckled knickers.
Angry now he crowed at her, with venom
bile and spite,
you only want to lead me on,
to get me in a fight.
I might be a little Bantam
some say I’m awfully tough.
Then his squawking, crowing epitaphs
became caught below his ruff.

They found Bad Boy in a dumpster,
he’d been there overnight.
The chicken paramedic said,
he’s not a pretty sight.
And added as an afterthought,
as he pecked the driver’s head,
the Rhode Island Reds are getting soft,
Bad Boy could be dead.

A year has passed and Bad Boy,
well he’s a little slow.
Rhode Island Reds and skating,
are a definite no, no.
Instead you’ll find him on his perch
a sitting in the coop,
where he dreams of an Andalusian
hen, doing a fancy loop de loop.
Laurie Smith.