Announcing the Semi-Bicentennial “Chickens Are Good” Bad Poetry Contest That Will Not Make You Bald (Probably)

Today I socialized again.

It’s becoming a bad habit…

Anyway, my friend and reader said

My opinion towards chickens is “stab it.”

I’ve written about chickens for dinner

And, yesterday, going to Hell.

All in all my poems about chickens

Do not treat them very well.

I wanted to amend my cruelty

Towards our egg-laying kin

And so I announce a contest

That upon this fine day shall begin!

Now a good contest must have a theme

And should recur on an oft-scheduled basis

And feature many a viewpoint

And not force the victor into cryogenic stasis.

My contest achieves all of these goals

And here’s what the contest is called:

The Semi-Bicentennial “Chickens Are Good”

Bad Poetry Contest That Will Not Make You Bald (Probably).

I’m seeking submissions from readers,

From other poets, artists, and guests

On the topic of the glories of chickens

And of a quality that won’t get an A on tests.

So comment your dubious poetry

About the glory of hens and of cocks.

Just comment them on this announcement

And just make sure that none of them rocks.

I look forward to reading your poems

And the chickens most likely do not

Because they’re illiterate morons.

(Now’s your chance to prove that they’re not)!



Filed under Poems, To the Reader

3 responses to “Announcing the Semi-Bicentennial “Chickens Are Good” Bad Poetry Contest That Will Not Make You Bald (Probably)

  1. William D. Kappele

    Chickens are oviparous,
    I’m sure you realize.
    They generously produce for us,
    Eggs of every size.
    These eggs do nourish some of us,
    and for that we are thankful.
    (Others they make malodorous,
    but we do forgive your stank, Phil.)
    Chickens have earned their place in heaven,
    don’t you realize?
    With a little flour and leaven,
    you get “Chicken Surprise!”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Helen, a humble chicken farmer

    Ode to Awesome Chickens

    My chickens make me breakfast.
    They’re the best that pets can get.
    Eggs fried, poached, or scrambled,
    And even omelette.

    I object to killing chickens!
    That’s simply just not right.
    They give us free-range organic eggs
    And even put themselves to bed at night.

    Wyandots and Orpingtons,
    Barred Rock, Black Copper Marans too.
    If you sup on glorious chickens,
    There’s something wrong with you!

    My rooster calls out to his hens
    for succulent treats like corn.
    He guards against sneak hawk attacks
    And even wakes me up in the morn.

    Oh Eggs of many colors
    My chickens lay for me.
    Pink and blue and brown eggs
    And even eggs of green.

    My chicken each have fancy names
    Miranda, Romona, and Stormy Blue.
    You want to eat my pet chickens?
    How could you! Shame on you!

    If poultry poetry ain’t your thing,
    I ask, Please don’t blame me.
    All I did was complain about poultrycide,
    Hence this bad poetry contest, You see?

    Liked by 1 person

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