Why did the chicken cross the road?

‘Tis the season for seasoning chickens. Here’s a new poem about one who was determined to go out on his own terms…


“Why did the chicken cross the road?”
the chicken farmer cried.
The clairvoyant answered:
“To get to the other side.”

“You mean – it wanted to be dead?”
the disbelieving farmer said.
“Why else with death would it have diced
if not to be a poultrygeist?”

“You mean I’m destined to be haunted
by some silly bird that sauntered
on to Highway 58
for the purpose of being late?”

“So it says,” replied the medium;
“Says its life was endless tedium.
All year cooped up in a cage –
Wouldn’t you choose highway rage?

Cluck, cluck, cluck and peck, peck, peck,
then one day they ring your neck;
What kind of a life is that ? –
better a short stroll, then… splat!

Thought this bird that it’s the ghost of:
‘Me you’ll never make a roast of;
you’ll not sell me off the shelf –
I’ll make mincemeat of myself!

Before you cook me in a pan
I’ll be some driver’s coq au van.’
“And so into its path then thundered
a Mitsubishi L300.”

“So sad to see a bird I fattened
looking so completely flattened;
Had I known it felt depressed
I’d have put its fears to rest.

I’d have brokered its release
and helped that chicken rest in peace;
It could have come and planned with me
the perfect exit strategy.

I’d have chopped its head right off it;
Sold the body for a profit
to the local KFC.
Win/win deal: RIP.”

© John Ansell 2009

Had a good time a few weeks back performing with screenwriter/comic Nick Ward at Lembas Cafe in Raumati.

On Monday 15 February, I’ll be guesting at the NZ Poetry Society monthly get-together (7.30pm upstairs at the Thistle Inn). Pencil it in and I hope to see you there.

Meantime, thanks for voting in my flag poll (more on that soon) and do all have a Merry Xmas.

It’s good to be back blogging, and I promise to keep it up. Just had a nice lunch with my blogging hero David Farrar at the Backbencher.

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