Image for the poem Chickens


Iím a keeper of chickens,
Though my husband wishes they were kittens.
They flutter and play,
Stirring up the hay.
They use me as perch,
In my hands, for food they search.
With no snack to give, they attack my hair,
Hey! Donít peck me there!
I love my chickens, I really do,
But now they have me covered in poo!
Ok chickens, I gotta go,
You know Iíll be back later though.
Come on, move, let me pass,
I really donít want to put my foot in your ass.
Please chickens, leave me be,
Or Iíll turn you into KFC!
Written by Nocturnalbutterfly
Author's Note
No chickens were harmed during the making of this poem.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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