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.
undercaws 
You made a video about me! How nice!
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I didn’t find it funny; I found it grim. It was the apocalyptic tone that stood out for me.
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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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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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Clever and witty poem, Brenda! When it comes to crossing roads, chickens never learn, do they!
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A wonderful poem that made me smile. I loved the image of the twitching curtains, sharpened axe and thoughts of KFC.
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Wonderful, I just love the quirkiness of your tale! 🙂
I too was sad for the chickens, and I am with Mary in hoping that the roadcrosser survived.
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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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Wow, this came totally unexpected, yes, nobler the old way for killing chickens vs chicken farming now. What a journey poem, well done.
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Thanks, Diane. I was trying for something a bit different, glad I delivered. 🙂
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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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It may be necessary to build a chicken coop to keep your imagination in while you dream. This type of poetry can cause convulsions and damp spots in the shorts. Glorious.
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Brenda, this made die with laughter. You have the most delightful sense of humour. Excellent use of the words, which surprisingly being half mine, were a pain in the neck.
Pamela
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I am highly entertained by your “fowl stories”!
In the Fallow Garden
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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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Brenda- I truly love your creative and unique use of the words.
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Thanks Laurie, I appreciate your comment.
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This is great Brenda! Very clever use of the words which I find difficult to reconcile.
Hank
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I’ll check in with you later, to see if anything transpires…. Thanks for leaving your thoughts, Hank.
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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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Grandmother Chicken surely appreciates the recognition. 😉
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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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Thank you Mary, she survives in mine, too. Killing chickens is a sad thing, sadder yet is the life they live under the watchful eyes of chicken farming two-leggeds.
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Brenda, this is superb. Laugh-out-loud superb!
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hee hee! Thanks Viv.
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