On a recent bike ride, I happened across a group of turkeys …
and by that I mean REAL turkeys …
and by that I mean WILD turkeys.
I hopped off my bike to take some pictures, and well … I’m afraid I ruffled a few feathers.
The males were impressive with their puffing. Peacocks have nothing on these Tom Turkeys!
Now all this got me to thinking, and thinking, and thinking …
that I have nothing poetic to write about turkeys.
I brainstormed:
Why did the turkey cross the road …
Wattle you want?
Gobble. Gobble. Gobble.
Talkin’ Turkey
Poultry polka
Anybody want a drumstick?
Pass the gravy
Turkey Trot
Seven months to Thanksgiving
Spring turkey?
At midnight, I was drawing a complete turkey blank.
D.H. Lawrence to the rescue from 1922:
Turkey-Cock
You ruffled black blossom,
You glossy dark wind.
Your sort of gorgeousness,
Dark and lustrous
And unfathomable
And poppy-glossy,
Is the gorgeousness that evokes my darkest admiration.
…
Your wattles are the color of steel which has been red hot
And is going cold,
Cooling to a powdery pale-oxidized sky-blue.
Why do you have wattles, and a naked wattled head?
Why do you arch your naked-set eye with a more than
comprehensible haughtiness?
The vulture is bald; so is the condor, obscenely;
But only you have thrown this amazing mantilla of oxidized
sky-blue
And hot red over you.
Hmmm, accurate description, but perhaps a bit overblown?
I guess I am not in a position to criticize when my most poetic thought was “Gobble. Gobble. Gobble.”
But fortunately, it is Poetry Friday! And I know some people who will have fantastic poems for you. Start by visiting the amazingly articulate Irene Latham at Live Your Poem! Irene adds to the beautifully evolving progressive poem, presents her poem-in-your-pocket display, and shares an ArtSpeak prayer.