Later Goose

I walk around

Like a chicken

With its head cut off

 

Don’t look at me

Hand me a club

And say let’s go golf

 

I don’t know how

Nor do I want to

What’s the point anyway?

 

I spent my life

In a chicken coop

It’s how I play

 

Shoot to kill

Right between the eyes

Such a pity life

 

Duck, duck later goose

I’m sorry didn’t mean to

I have a fork and a knife

 

I have to eat

Please bless this food

I’m ready to set down

 

Gulp, gulp

Feed my tummy

Oh look you’re still around

 

I didn’t have the

Heart to kill you

Bought one at the store

 

Don’t look at me like that

I still have my golf club

I can celebrate once more

 

 

By Lil be me

©2010

 

Reviews

[Christina May Shanaberg]

We, once, had a couple dozen Rhode Island Reds; everytime, we had chicken, my daughter went outside to check whether anyone was missing. This was a very sweet poem and well written. I enjoyed it, very much!