MIDWEEK POETRY: Hubert the gravity defying chicken and The Ressurrection of Hubert.



Hubert the gravity defying chicken.

Hubert was a chicken, who had some serious issues,
besides a snotty, runny beak that required multiple tissues.
He believed in Karma, as chickens often do
yet found himself in many scrapes, often landing in the poo.
He went to chicken school one day and listened with some hilarity,
when the teacher stood and lectured them on the serious effects of gravity.
Not being one to take advice he thought it was a lark,
left the classroom in a flash and headed for the park.
He found himself the tallest tree, a hundred year old pine
fluffed his ruffled feathers and began the arduous climb.
The teacher and classmates followed and stared with awe and glee,
Hubert saw them standing far below and crowed out loud, watch me,
I’m going to show you silly clucks all about this gravity.                                                                       The teacher cried out Hubert, this could end in a fatality.                                                          Teetering on the topmost branch he yelled, I don’t have a care,
with another piercing gargled crow he leapt into the air………
Hubert’s funeral will be held at the Avian Apostolic Hall next to the Colonel’s crematorium tomorrow.
RIP Hubert.

Now this caused some consternation with the artist, I had killed her chicken. Under threat of waking up one night to find myself the centre of a chicken fricassee I wrote the following.


The Avian Apostolic hall
was not like other churches.
Inside the crowd of feathered fowl
clambered on their perches.
They stared as one towards the front
where Hubert would be blessed
and wondered in their tiny minds,
how he ended in this mess.
None dared to stare at the cardboard box
that contained his feathered form,
and the turkey stood and faced the flock
and said, Hubert wasn’t the norm.
They said he was a Buddhist
and followed in his ways.                                                                                                                            Sat on his perch for hours
in a meditative daze.
A rooster jumped up at the back
startling a wee red hen,
Just tell us where young Hubert’s gone,
we have no care for Zen.
The turkey raised a mighty wing
and said, enough for Dao,
sit back down upon your perch
and I’ll tell you why and how.
While the assembled Avian mourners
bowed their heads in prayer,
Hubert slowly flapped his way
up a golden, glowing stair.
With voices clucking in his ears,
Hubert, you’re nearly there.

A cyclone wired hen house gate
shone like a golden yolk.
Then Hubert spied his Granny
and other hen house folk.
She stomped her feet and flapped her wings
crowing in alarm,
Oh Hubert, silly Hubert,
you’ve gone and bought the farm.
We’ve watched your silly antics
and knew you’d come to harm.
Hubert’s granny stepped outside
and said, come take a look,
This is the final resting place
for a silly, wayward chook.
Hubert stood in fear and awe,
then wiped his runny beak,
took another step forward
so he could take a peek.

And then a mighty flash of light,
a great heavenly display
scared the Avian mourners,
the hens began to lay.
The Turkey preacher fainted,
the congregation let out a shout.
The cardboard box sprung open
and Hubert floated out.

The tiny congregation spoke of this
for years to come.
The chickens said a miracle,
The ducks exclaimed, Ho Hum.
But the evidence was there for all
‘ere they could not refute,
that something happened high above
and Hubert got the boot.
Hubert spends his time these days
reflecting – on things beyond his ken.
He’s settled now, a family man
with chicks and his wee hen.
Though he doesn’t talk about the time
of his youthful, ignorant levity.
It’s gone down in Avian lore,
as the day Hubert defied gravity.
Laurie Smith.©2013

http://patgarciabookreviews.com/2013/08/16/promotion-reflections-of-mamie-a-story-of-survival-by-rosemary-mamie-adkins/      Book reviews by Pat Garcia, a lovely lady who does so much.

http://coachdaddyblog.wordpress.com/2013/08/24/go-ask-daddy-about-shark-dentition-piranha-fangs-and-the-hulks-history/ Eli answers questions put to him by his daughters, funny.

http://pagadan.wordpress.com/ Joy always appreciates people dropping by.

NOTE, I’m ill this week and for the life of me couldn’t conjure up a love poem, sonnet, sad verse or the like. So it’s chickens.


17 thoughts on “MIDWEEK POETRY: Hubert the gravity defying chicken and The Ressurrection of Hubert.

  1. Russel Ray Photos

    ….but I also like your Midweek Poetry. There was a time when I was young and wanted to be a poet. William Wordsworth was my favorite. In high school senior English I was getting a C and really needed an A to get into the National Honor Society. I did my term paper on Wordsworth, the most extensive research and paper ever, and my teacher was so impressed that she gave me an A+ on the paper and an A- for the class. I was the happiest person in the world!


    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      He came from my neck of the woods back in England. I loved his works. Well done on the term paper, bet your Grandmother was proud. I like poetry, never reached high school but have always loved stringing words together.


  2. Raani York

    Okay now, Laurie… this completely “drained me out”… I was on the floor, tired of amusement and trying to re-concentrate. What an epic chicken poem!!! Gaaaaahhhaaaaackackackack…. LOL


    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      Ah, ‘The Epic Tale of Hubert’ that would have been better. I hope everyone ‘got’ the Zen and Dao bit. The sad thing is I could actually see the turkey preacher. GAAAAAAAAAAAAAhack indeed. 🙂


    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      I think there could be a readership out there for avian love poems. Or better still avian love stories: Gone with the Rooster, 50 Shades of Cockerels, A Henhouse named Desire.
      I could go on.


  3. Owls and Orchids

    There’s a lot to be said for chickens, either eating, watching or writing about. Almost a ‘Humpty Dumpty’ feel 😧
    Hope you start to pick up very soon. If you would like some Reiki, absent healing? Take care.
    Ciao, Susan ❤



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