The
bantams are broody,
not a
single egg laid
for
at least the last month.
They
hide in the hen house,
fretting
and moody,
still
in their silence
bar
an occasional half-hearted,
a
softest cluck-cluck.
They
long for the crow of a cock,
the
warmth of the nest,
the
gentle tap of the beak,
the
cracking of shell,
the
chirp of the chicks
as
they welcome this world.
And
she?
She
is broody, her belly ballooning,
but
this a mere phantom,
pregnant
only with yearning, the want
the
need of a tiny babe suckling,
grasping
deep comfort in the warmth of her breasts.
Oh
how she longs for a life growing inside her,
if
only, if only, if only.
This
morning she rubs at her tummy,
fondles
it strokes at it,
and
yet knows it is naught but a dream,
for
she has only ever been oh so desperately lonely,
she never
having been kissed, never ever been loved
and
never ever been laid
(Oh
how she dreams of being laid,
safe
in the arms of a man, she sure such a good man,
(she
imagines the feel and the smell of him).
Oh
how she aches to be taken.
Oh
how she wants to be wanted.)
She
hears the kettle click-off,
makes
up a cup of instant black coffee,
sees
the bacon near-ready, (mmmm (licks her lips))
cracks
an egg on the pan side,
lets
it drop in
and
watches it solidify in the sizzling hot fat.
Anna
:o]
Inspired
by the bantams – the bantams are
broody. They are not my little clucking
friends, rather that of my son and daughter-in-law.
Just
finished a few days stint of looking after my wonderful grandsons – loved it,
but I’m now worn out!
Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Author: Jon Sullivan
20 comments:
What a beautiful inventive poem that so many of us can realate too (whether wife or husband) as your plans don't necessarily keep to your schedule. With my own daughter's hens being broody at the moment this doubled my enjoyment of the piece!
great write!
Ah, I can feel the yearning in this piece. I hope it comes to pass & that the love is passed on.
Funny how the cracking of an egg can evoke such vivid illusions.
The yearning is quite powerful. Love it!
Ah, the longing for desire and its realization is so beautifully brought about in this moody verse. How the broodiness of the bantams finds its resurgence in such a vivid display of the need of intimacy!
-HA
Luv the wit. And a cleverly written brood.
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Broody bantams, and broody woman....i remember, a century ago, dreaming those dreams.......they came true and turns out it wasnt a hollywood movie, it was real life. Lol.
This one makes me think deep thoughts... about what might go on in the speaker's mind. The longing for life filling her womb is almost devastating to read--the way she imagines the babe, the way her hands touch her stomach, how she sees her yearning in the chickens and their eggs... Before I finished reading the poem, I worried about her. I kept wondering, are the eggs going to make her sick? Will her longing make her feel like she's eating the chicken's babe? Then, I realized that I probably had to step back... switch metaphors... Perhaps, the speaker is trying to remind us that although we can't get all we want all the time (not even half the time), at least we an enjoy a good taste of life (or breakfast) every now and again. So... yum, yum.
It's incredible how cracking of an egg can bring about such vivid illusions.The longing is quite potent!
Elanor Rigby by the Beatles came to mind as I was finishing this peace. There's so much sadness woven into the wordplay.
A delightful write about the chicks, and yet it turns to the lonely one, who rubs her tummy and wishes to be loved! A very imaginative write!
The morning eggs and bacon are at least some consolation. A line from a poem I wrote called Broody: She stubbornly sits like a contemplating poet / like a Buddha denouncing possessions...
Awesome cadence and wordplay in an enthralling, brilliantly crafted, piece that pops and pulses with unrequited yearning. Great job on this!
When you're consumed by something..everything reminds you of it...even the simple act of making breakfast...love the flow of the poem, was like stepping inside the narrator's mind.
Touchingly told. A phantom pregnancy would be a sad thing indeed. I think you have imagined and written it with great sensitivity, moving on from the broody bantams. In both scenes, a lovely, truthful domesticity.
Wow! Never have I seen human woman and Bantam hen compared to greater effect. I think that if the human were aware of the yearning she shared with the hen, she'd be an instant vegetarian!
Ah, the want of what we don’t have. Always a yearning.
Is there anything worse than a deep longing unfulfilled?
the juxtaposition of the bantam hens and the female human is a lovely stroke. loved the witty wordplay too. :)
very well written... the longing is so moving. By the way, we had chickens growing up and I was so afraid of those broody hens - I was never able to brave putting my hand under their bodies to collect the eggs - they would peck my hand but when my mother reached under them they wouldn't. Perhaps they new better - but I didn't know chickens were that smart. My mom probably would have wooshed them off their nest.
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