A Fowl Poem

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 28, 2018

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Submitted: August 28, 2018

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Some days I live deliberately,

Though not in woods but in my words.

Writing chicken scratch upon the page

To see the nuance of my world.

 

Some days still I sit and wish

My papers were made scratch-and-sniff.

That my scrawl, though guano scented,

Would not be trapped by pen or coop.

 

I think I need more corn, more feed.

My hens are left to peck at straw.

It keeps them plump and plumage full,

But prompts no eggs in secret roosts.

 

Now in this pen an easy wind

Flutters frosty downy feather,

That might make a soft pillow

If only I reach down and pluck.

 

So that my pen may not be penned;

That chicken scratch may one day soar,

Perhaps I should write less of hens

And read a little more.


© Copyright 2018 noahshachar. All rights reserved.

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