Day 15 and we’re half-way through National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo).
Today’s poem is a short Sunday musing.
As always, it has just been born so it is still raw, unedited and shivering.
Chicken
We peck and squabble
too close for comfort,
our sensibilities, caged;
fear imprisons us.
Give our thoughts free range:
cross that road.
Nice, compact little number Jen. Funnily enough, I was reading about “free range” eggs only today. Complete joke in Australia.
Menopausal women take note!!
I should hope that the egg was raw given that it was just born…oh sorry, you mean the poem…love the last 2 lines. Would make an excellent protest sign at a
n animal cruelty rally…
Thanks Mike…I didn’t have a lot of juice in the poetry tank to put together much more! And yeah, it seems there are many creative definitions of ‘free range’.
Hellooooo Trish, are they chickens?! xo
Thanks Josephine… I don’t think the egg had even been collected! Re the last two lines: yes, good idea, maybe at an anti-battery-hens rally… xo
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