Roadcrosser

Dreaming of obsolete automobiles
Roadcrosser, the rambunctious chicken,
dances across the road.
Somewhere in her DNA
memories of two-leggeds and the crumbs they threw
fuel her frenzied crossing.
Old Mother Hubbard’s garden and dinner bells
do not ring over fallow fields.

Roadcrosser’s ancestors
zigged and zagged
a headless dance
that fills fowl stories
beyond the demise of yesterday.

Grandmother Chicken danced into the pond
spilling blood from her body
across the barnyard ballroom.
Nailed on a hat-rack fence post
her head squawked a protest song
before the end of everything.

When she reaches the other side,
Roadcrosser imagines the beheading.
Swallowing a lump in her chicken throat,
she sings Grandmother Chicken’s protest song,
unaware of the admiring eyes
of the last remaining two-legged
peering between a crack
in second story curtains
while sharpening her hatchet
and dreaming of Kentucky Fried.

Brenda Warren 2011

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Process notes
The wordle at The Sunday Whirl this week provided a bizarre assortment of words. I thought the best way to tackle them was with something quirky or playful. Friday night, I went to bed with the words dancing through my head. I woke up at 1:30 a.m. and wrote down the phrase: The rambunctious chicken danced across the road. When I went back to sleep landscapes of apocalyptic times visited my dreams. I combined the two ideas in Roadcrosser. It is my fervent wish that Roadcrosser survive, to pass on her Grandmother’s protest song.

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26 thoughts on “Roadcrosser

  1. Ah Brenda. You asked if the words fallow and obsolete swayed the direction of the poems this week. Could be, but you prove there is always someone in the group who steps to her own drummer. Thank goodness for that, for Roadcrosser, Grandmother Chicken’s protest song, and even Kentucky Fried. What a wonderful dance you have pranced us through,

    Elizabeth
    http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/

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  2. That’s why the chicken crossed the road – she was dancing! Brenda, this is wonderful, full of wit and humor. Long live Roadcrosser! As to the poem itself – I loved the image of the “hat-rack fence post”. I could easily imagine a farmer taking his hat off and resting it on the fence.

    Richard

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    • In honor of Roadcrosser’s ability to inspire well-wishers, I just may write a part two, there’s this certain rooster, he has his eye on Roadcrosser….and he wasn’t born yesterday. No siree…this rooster? He knows his business.

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  3. The song and dance of the headless chickens lol!! 🙂 This fowl story has much humor but I see a small undercurrent of sadness running beside it too!! Loved the ‘Animal Farm’ like story in verse!!

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  4. Good grief, thought I was reading a Dean Koontz for a minute! LOL
    All that blood and mayhem, aww sad for the chickens but, was amusing how you used the words. Glad I don’t have your dreams 🙂 lol

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    • Thanks, and yes, good grief! I’ve always had dark dreams, and have always appreciated reflecting on them, too. I’ll take the Dean Koontz remark as a compiment. 🙂 I love his Santa’s Twin, and Frankenstein picture books for young people (not to mention old farts, like me!).

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  5. Brenda, I think this is simply marvellous. It’s got Old Mother Hubbard, Roadcrosser, and Headless Chickens, and Kentucky Fried. My oh my. Grandmother chicken is a legend.

    her head squawked a protest song
    before the end of everything.

    So hilarious. Such good humor! *squeals*

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  6. This was good, a creative use of the words indeed, Brenda..but I was sad about the spilling of blood. I do hope that Roadcrosser will survive as well. My imagination will make it so.

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