Ode to a Rooster

Please, please, please forgive me. I take full responsibility for the insult that this is to poetry and all forms of writing. I just couldn't help myself.

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Ode to a Rooster

You were born of Emma,
And grew by her side.
Out on your own,
From big hens you did hide.

They chased you through fence
And into the yard.
Your owners didn't mind.
Their hearts weren't hard.

Soon, young cockerel,
You grew to full size.
A Wyandotte and Ameracana cross,
You were easy on the eyes.

Multi-colored and lovely
You were in the sun.
Our neighbors admired you,
Called you "pretty one".

But Marv didn't like you,
Didn't want competition.
He chased you away.
You ran like the dickens.

You ran, right up close,
To the back of the home,
Ate all the pansies while
Strutting your comb.

Right under the window
Your owners lay in bed.
You'd stretch out your neck
And crow off your head.

The woman of the house,
After waking to nurse,
Found she couldn't fall back asleep
Verse after verse.

Maybe you were greeting
The sun and the day,
But that woman needs sleep
In the very worst way.

So, after talking to the man,
Your harvest date was set.
Eager for some sleep,
The woman feared no regret.

It was always the plan.
The man and woman knew your fate.
For if they didn't harvest you,
Marv would have scheduled the date.

So, thank you for looking so lovely in the sun.
For keeping all the neighbors from ever hearing their alarm.
Now you can crow to your heart's desire
And we will enjoy you crock-pot style. Pin It