My First Chicken
I remember the day
I caught my first chicken
or is it only the photograph
that I fondly remember
I remember collecting eggs
on my Aunt Ruby’s farm
no photo of that exists
so I’m sure it is a real memory
The smoke house had a bathtub
and the outhouse had a stench
priming the pump for water
was both a thrill and chore
the telephone had a crank
on the wall above the wash basin
the side yard had John Deeres
apples and pears behind the shed
my older cousins always cool
Mike the dog sang happy birthday
sleeping in the upstairs window
the rooster started each day
I could tell my Aunt loved me
again no photo needed
we were all one family
down home in Pleasant Gap
——
Image: Ron and the Chicken On Aunt Ruby’s Farm, from family collection, taken August, 1961
Inspired by Laura’s prompt at the poetic responses about memories at dVerse ~ Poets Pub Poetics: In The Light of Other Days.
Linked to dVerse ~ Poets Pub: Open Link Night (live), where Sanaa is hosting tonight.
what did you do with the chicken after you caught it?
That part I don’t remember. I’m guessing I let it go.
Warm poetry…my favourite character Mike the dog by a long shot…
Thanks. Yes, Mike could sing (howl).
This is absolutely stellar writing, Ron! I can picture the “bathtub and the outhouse,”.. “John Deeres apples and pears behind the shed,” and love that you included a recording of it. Thank you so much for sharing 💝💝
Thank you Sanaa, and thank you for hosting.
I love that last stanza. No, no photo necessary! (K)
Thanks.
enjoyed your poem ron, loved all the details and clear description, reminds me of my grandfather’s farm in nebraska. i too remember my first chicken. also i enjoyed hearing you read it.
Thanks Phillip. Those old farm trips are great for memories.
Some fond childhood memories here, Ron: I’m glad it was a good time for you!
I don’ remember any of the bad times.
All those memories. I know they’re real. The photos are the memories. I know that too. Spectacular. xoxo
Thanks Selma. Yes, they’re real.
A wonderfully nostalgic poem Ron. I think you are right, some of what we call memories are just reinforcement of what our elders told us happened. Great poem.
Agreed…we often don’t know how something got into our memory banks.
A lovely poem, Ron. It had me in mind of The Waltons, ha ha! Sometimes those picture postcards moments are never captured. You’re enjoying the present so much, you don’t think to capture it. But it remains a beautiful memory 🙂
Yes, I don’t know who was ready with the camera to capture this one. No one was carrying smart phone cameras in 1961, so it took a real effort.
A lucky shot 😊
Charming memories, Ron. I enjoyed them.
It is interesting what pictures might make us remember….