Wednesday, November 9, 2011


suggests we write about Fidelity, Feathers, Figment and Fable.


No Aesop I, 
Yet I must try
To write a little fable.
I'll bend my brow
To do it now,
As best as I am able.
"A proud peacock
Got quite a shock
When the drab peahen ignored him,
For, up to now,
He'd been a wow,
As all the hens adored him.
Yes, truth to tell,
He was quite swell,
Each feather was a glory.
The hens went wild
And were all beguiled,
Except the one in my story.
The disaffection
In his direction
Annoyed Peacock immensely;
He splayed his tail,
Like every male,
And courted her intensely.
He did not know,
(It did not show)
That she was a fairy creature.
She looked so plain!
But her disdain
Was her most seductive feature.
So he pursued
And sought and wooed
To gain his satisfaction,
While she just stood,
As though made of wood,
While he was looking for action.
At last he cried
'If you'll be my bride
I'll be faithful all my life.
I'll never again
Woo another hen,
If you will be my wife!'
The hen relented;
His pride, once dented,
Revived in the embrace.
His passion spent,
Then off he went,
With intentions that were base.
The words he'd spoken,
The promises broken,
Were simply left behind!
The fairy hen
Just counted to ten,
And a thought came into her mind.
As he did his dance
For the next romance,
She cast her little spell;
As he reached the peak
Of his winning streak
Out one of his feathers fell!!
One of those 'eyes',
Of enormous size,
That were his peacock pride,
Fell to the ground
With a brittle sound!
And he was horrified!
His past success,
Persuaded him to continue.
'I'm here, little hens,
Come out of your pens,
For I'm about to win you!'
Not one, not two,
But more than a few
He accepted as his ration,
While the feathers flopped
And, in order, dropped
As he gave-in to passion.
When he was bald
One brave hen called
' My love for you's diminished!
Your sex appeal
Is no longer real.
Without a tail, you're finished!'
Too late he found,
When he turned around,
That his rear-end was quite bare.
He was denuded!
Too late he brooded!
He was spoilt beyond repair.
The moral, folks,
Is that men are jokes
If they play the field too much.
There is a cost
If feathers are lost
And they lose that tender touch.
Fidelity rules
For all but fools,
So never be too frisky.
That special 'one'
Will know what you've done,
And the whole thing is too risky.
My fable's writ,
That's the end of it.
That figment of imagination
Has had its say
The meme for today
Was my only motivation!

Simple Alphabet Number One: A is for Apple

The apple was rosy and red'
'Drop down for me, apple!' I said
It came down with a bump,
Now I've got a big lump
For it landed on top of my head!


We enjoyed a lovely day in the country yesterday. We drove to a small place called Nabiac, stopping along the way at a picturesque little town called Stroud. The countryside looked perfect, although we all found the weather too hot for our liking. The jacaranda is in bloom and it always looks superb alongside the bougainvillea.

Although Stroud is so small it boasted one of the most delightful gift-shop-cum-restaurants I've ever visited. A positive treasure-trove. 

We then drove on to Nabiac where we visited a Sustainable Energy farm. It was very interesting, and I was particularly taken with the free-range hens which were clucking around everywhere. So refreshing after all the sad chicken shots one sees on TV. Our lunch was to have been cooked in the solar oven but, rather ironically, because stormy weather was predicted, a neighbour cooked the quiche instead! As it happened, there was no storm.


Maxwell Mead Williams Robinson Barry said...

playful hens,

you are so caring, thanks for sharing.

Other Mary said...

lol, yes...entirely too much emphasis on tail feathers in the courting process!

The Poet said...

Laughing...awesome, just awesome...Rinkly, you are the QUEEN of Rimes!
Your photos are great too, especially the jacaranda (purple is one of my favorite colors).

Thanks for sharing.

Heaven Is You