I’m going to cheat a bit, because the poem below is both one of the worst things I’ve ever read...and one of the best. It was written on plain, lined notebook paper, in a gender neutral hand. I found it in a tiny drawer inside a wobbly little table in the coffee shop I used to frequent back in college. Who wrote it? Why did they love chicken so much? Why is it so...strange? Why paste, of all things?
Chicken. White. So Glorious.
A beak for rummaging.
How I long to pet your white feathers.
Come to me as I yearn to boil you in water. And nibble on your flesh.
Eat you. Eat you. Eat you.
I feed you only to kill you.
Your feathers are the color of paste.
I like paste.
I paste when the wind blows.
As the wind blows through your feathers.
Your feathers, the color of paste.
Did you write this poem? If so, then…I love you. Write me at fridaythethirteeners[at]gmail[dot]com and tell me the name of the coffee shop where I found it, so I know it’s really you.
Questions:
1. What's the worst thing you've ever read?
2. What are your favorite chicken poems? Are there any other chicken poems? Besides, of course, that brilliant one by William Carlos Williams...love that sucker.
3. Fill in the blank: So much depends up a ___ ___ glazed with rain water beside the ___ ___
4. What's the worst/best line in the poem above? I paste when the wind blows or I feed you only to kill you or Come to me as I yearn to boil you in water?
5. Can you write a chicken poem as good as this one?
Next up: Ellen Oh. Send her truth and dares here. If you are a published (or soon to be published) author, sign up to guest post with us.
What the....HUH? April, just admit you wrote it. C'mon. I mean, it's so weird but at the same time completely brilliant!!
ReplyDeleteYeah, April. Are you sure this brilliant poem isn't *your* handiwork?
DeleteI'm honored that you guys think I wrote this. Deeply honored. But I found it back in college. I've got witnesses. I used to pull this poem out at parties and read it. I PASTE WHEN THE WIND BLOWS. That is...genius. And possibly a bit insane.
DeleteOkay, I have a chicken haiku for you...
ReplyDeleteUm...
Oh KFC yum
Miss you since I stopped eating
Delicious fried fat.
HA! YES! Elsie, I love you to death.
DeleteI would LIKE this if it were facebook.
DeleteMy night job is haiku writing. Natch.
DeleteFour-Posts, do you have my back if it comes to a fight? Please say yes.
DeleteOf course. I even do little Bruce Lee noises when I fight.
DeleteThis seriously makes me giggle...and not the cute kind of giggling, the maybe someone should lock her away and dress her up in a pretty, white jacket kind of giggling.
ReplyDelete...maybe I should write a poem about inappropriate giggling.
Yep, this chicken poem smacks of madness. But then, I've always been attracted to madness. I think Jane Eyre did a number on me back when I was a kid...
DeleteAnd, for you, April. My giggle/chicken haiku.
ReplyDeleteFunny fowl, adore you.
Laughs like paste flow slow and free.
And now, I'm hungry.
;-D
"Laughs like paste flow slow and free"...oh, man. That kills, Jenn. It's so brilliant.
DeleteThese chicken poems are making me so, so happy.
This is officially the 2nd poem I've ever written. I think it's growing on me. :)
DeleteJ.R. I think you need to write this haiku down and find a public drawer to put it in. It would be great karma--think of all the joy you would bring to the person who found it. The mad chicken poem above has given me YEARS of laughs and happiness and sunshine.
DeleteThis will happen. There will be photographic evidence. It will be epic. :)
DeleteHoly crap that is totally something my husband would do. He'd write a funky poem, stick it somewhere that someone would find it, and laugh at the mystery of it for the rest of his life. That is sooooo funny. I must tell him about this. I want to find a chicken poem in a drawer at a coffee shop. And that poem is epic. I adore it.
ReplyDeleteI think this is a gorgeous idea--all of thirteeners should write mad, mysterious poems and shove them into drawers in our towns. I LOVE this.
DeleteKasie, can you get your husband to post a funky chicken poem on here? Please? Pretty please?
Yes, agreed. We should do poem drops. I love it.
DeleteI will try to get my husband to write a poem. His brilliance cannot be forced, he often tells me. The timing has to be just right. To which I respond: You could never be a writer.
But! If this blog post doesn't inspire him, I don't know what ever could. Paste maybe? Which, btw, does paste taste like chicken?
"Does paste taste like chicken?"
DeleteThis sounds like a fantastic opening line for the poem your husband is going to write for us. Starting a poem with a universal question is always a crowd-pleaser.
I know you can't hurry genius, Kasie, but try. For my sake. Try.
I wrote this poem, also about chickens. I think it's rather good.
ReplyDeleteso much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
Oh wait... That's William Carlos Williams, isn't it. Damn. Maybe I should contemplate writing a haiku... ;)
You know, Erin, I love this Imagist poem. I really do. And it was the only chicken poem I could think. Why aren't there more? What's wrong with chickens? Or paste, for that matter? Where are all the poems honoring paste? I ask you.
DeleteErin, you must write a chicken haiku. You must.
Okay, here's my haiku. (Hopefully you all remember making these and don't think I'm crazy)
ReplyDelete...
Kindergarten art
My hand, traced, feathers pasted
Chicken masterpiece
Yes, I totally remember those! "Chicken masterpiece"--that might be the first time those words have been used together. Beautiful, Erin, just beautiful.
ReplyDeleteI worked really hard on this poem. It is not a haiku.
ReplyDeleteClucking on the ground,
Hen, you are so small.
I eat you sometimes, but other times I do not.
C, we can be friends!
Kicking it in the farmyard together,
Even the fox knows
Not to eat you when I’m around.
Snort. Steph!!! You so talented at fowl frolicking!!
DeleteHahahahaha! "Kicking it in the farmyard together," "C,we can be friends!" This is genius. And brilliant use of that exclamation point, Stephanie. Would you please pen this up and hide it in some public place? Bring that joy into the world, S.
DeleteYes, I can definitely do that and I WILL.
DeleteThis is possibly my favorite chicken poem EVER. "I eat you sometimes, but other times I do not."
DeleteAlexandra, that line is so...deep, isn't it? Simple, but deep. It works on so many levels.
DeleteI have less of a poem, and more of a riddle:
ReplyDeleteAre chicken feathers the color of paste, or is paste the color of chicken feathers? And where does "eggshell white" fit into the spectrum???
I think I'm going to have to take the rest of the day off and contemplate this!
Megan, that is profound. Which came first, the feathers? Or the paste? Isn't that how the saying goes? Also, I think "chicken feather paste" is a lovely sounding wall color.
ReplyDeleteAn autobiographical chicken haiku:
ReplyDeleteRed comb, lizard claws,
Leave my sandaled toes alone.
I hate you, rooster.
A, the fact that this haiku is autobiographical makes it all the more touching. I can FEEL your pain. So heartbreaking. And I HATE YOU, ROOSTER is so good it rivals I FEED YOU ONLY TO KILL YOU. Well done, Alexandra. Well done!
DeleteNOTHING rivals "I feed you only to kill you." Except maybe "Come to me as I yearn to boil you in/water."
DeleteAnd yeah, that rooster and I didn't get along. It was one of two that belonged to my pottery instructor, who lived in the French Quarter in New Orleans. I think it might actually have been a guard rooster, because there were no hens.
Man, I wish I had a New Orleans French Quarter rooster enemy.
DeleteI love this poem so fiercely. So fiercely it hurts! And the pain makes me hungry. Must eat chicken.
ReplyDeleteEllen, you know what helps poem pain? Boiling chickens in water and nibbling on their flesh. So you're on the right path. Eat them, eat them, eat them.
DeleteApril, you really should have warned people not to read this while sitting in an office. Lips twitching uncontrollably from trying to hold in laughter.
ReplyDeleteWarning: Do Not Read This Mad, Mad Chicken Poem At Work.
DeleteDone and done. Brandy, Ellen, are you going to give me a sweet chicken poem of your own? Or am I going to have to get physical? Four-Posts said she has my back if it comes to a fight...
FINE, here goes:
DeleteChicken, chicken
You elusive beast.
I'm a vegetarian now
Thus you are no longer a feast.
*curtsies*
Ha! Maybe you could do a post down the road where you write a chicken-inspired poem about veggies. I DARE you to do this, actually.
DeletePotato, the color of paste, how I yearn to boil you in water....
I like paste.
DeleteI paste when the wind blows.
DeleteWow. KFC almost sounds good again. Bwack!
ReplyDeleteI haven't had fast food in twenty years, Elsie. But I might eat KFC in honor of this chicken poem. Diseased, mistreated birds fried in MSG and hydrogenated soybean oil. Delicious!
DeleteEat some chicken
ReplyDeleteand stop your bitchin'
how's that?
I'm laughing out loud right now, Ellen. I deserved that.
DeleteOMG, hahahahaha...this poem is glorious, just like chicken.
ReplyDeleteI yearn to boil this poem in water and nibble on its flesh.
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ReplyDelete