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Àŧùl Aug 2016
I thought she was a **** chick,
I also thought she was true,
But she was only true to my ****.

I remember that chicken breast,
She flaunt her legs in privy,
Now it's someone else's leg piece,

Someone else will devour it over,
I won't ever get that very chick,
Because it was just a quick dream.
Dreamt about an edible chicken last night.

My HP Poem #1109
©Atul Kaushal
Hao Nguyen Apr 2016
Even through all the eggs

A reliable chicken can provide,

The farmer still takes the knife

For enough is never enough.
Chalsey Wilder Dec 2015
Sweet sweet tender flesh
I bite into the rest
My tongue does a taste test
My mind goes under a slight mesh
Of feelings and taste
My mind sets off a race
My tongue begins to pace

I could eat this slowly all day
This poem is about the rotisserie chicken I had last night. XD
PJ Poesy Dec 2015
Young chicken turned into fricassee
How hot is your gravy?
Such sizzling goodness
Smells so fresh in the pan
Having a fry
Don't really know why
Cooking at such high temperatures
Makes me crazy this way
But I've got to have you frizzle
Cut tenders spitting grease about
Think I'll dice up a side of
Turnips, greens and roots
There's an unwritten law about it
Even so
Availability finds comfort in handiness
A little splash of wine on that
Ought to make it all
Come together
Tex Dermott Oct 2015
Only the chickens knew the zebra’s secret,  they kept silent.

*More to Come…
Sally A Bayan Oct 2015
lovely Saturday morning....
      might we dance a bit today
         to ease off some sadness?*


DANCE
(A repost...some editing done)

The neighbor's stereo was playing tango music
      too loud, it made me  look at my red painted toes...
i realized, my feet hadn't even swayed
for so long now,
they've grown timid...and wary
  
All i want is to dance,
to be safe, warm,
close to one, as close as
cheek to cheek,
go left, then right,
lean, cling, then hold hands,
be held on the waist,
dip, then circle gracefully,
and step, a stretched arm away,
be brought closer once again,
hearing clearly the sighs
as the music reaches a high.

But, it was a chicken dance i had joined then,
the shaking and jiggling were so
repulsive...convulsive...confusing.
it mattered not who fell out of the beat
the desire waned,
fires die,
fires died, alright.

My feet are raring to swing back,
to be alive once more
on life's dance floor
no more falls, trips or missteps this time
just steps with a slower beat
with more grace now,
who knows,
this could be my best dance
ever!

This has got to feed my jazzy mood
play my chosen music
maybe do the shimmy for a while,
then shift to the bossa nova,
swing to its cool, hip-py rhythm.

Whatever the beat may be,
my partner and i,
we shall blend in while we do the mambo,
the rumba, cha-cha, even tap dance,
to celebrate this new chance on life.
I only  wish that on our first dance together,
we may dance the samba on the wide floor,
let the hours fly by.

Then, with a waltz,  we'll take it easy
until we finally get weary,
until we decide....to slow drag
the night away.

***


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Sally A Bayan Jul 2014
Dance

The  neighbor's stereo was playing tango music
too loud, it made me look at my red painted toes.
I realized, my feet have not even swayed
for so long now,
they've grown timid and wary
of making the wrong step.

All i want is to dance,
to be safe, warm,
close to one, as close as
cheek to cheek,
go left, then right,
lean, cling, then hold hands,
be held on the waist,
dip, then circle gracefully,
and step, a stretched arm away,
be brought closer once again,
hearing clearly the sighs
as the music reaches a high.

But, it was a chicken dance i had joined then,
the shaking and jiggling were so
repulsive...convulsive
confusing.
it mattered not who fell out of the tempo.
the desire waned,
fires die,
fires died, alright.

My feet are raring to swing back
to be alive once more
on life's dance floor
no more falls, trips or missteps this time
i'd like to dance with a slower beat
with more grace now
who knows,
this could be my best dance
ever!

This has got to feed my jazzy mood
play my chosen music
maybe do the shimmy for a while,
then shift to the bossa nova,
swing to its cool, hip-py rhythm.

Whatever the beat may be,
my partner and i...
we shall blend in......be it mambo,
the rumba, cha-cha, even tap dance,
to celebrate this new chance on life.
Together,
we shall dance the samba on the wide floor,
let the hours fly by.

Then, with a waltz,  we'll take it easy
until we finally get weary,
until we decide
to slow drag
the night
away.

  ***

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Julie Grenness Sep 2015
We've got the wedding bin blues,
Reception Centres should have been sued,
Plastic chicken and phony food,
"Why did you marry me?" we rued,
This is the first wives' club,
Half were in the pudding club,
The orange appliances survived,
Half the exes aren't alive!
Reception Centres should have been sued,
We've got the wedding bin blues!!!
(Sing along to the tune, "Wedding Bell Blues"). Feedback welcome.
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