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Array
(
[sid] => 161072
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Cockerel.
[time] => 2010-07-10 10:09:40
[hometext] => an old cockerel was a dominant figure on a farm i worked on many years ago.
[bodytext] => The cockerel was burnished gold and brown, Plump with pride and unconcealed rage. Each morning as the dawn flushed the sky of darkness He sounded a battle cry, A racuos crowing that could crack a window at 15 paces. Then at 7am the farmer's wife encroached on his kingdom, Opened the flap of his castle, And he emerged, red faced and crimson combed, Strutting a dominance akin to an old major in far flung days of empire. And as she scattered grain he watched, preening his fine feathers, Then, propelled by rage and arrogance, He lifted himself a foot off the ground And flung himself at the back of her fleshy legs. And she, with well practised nonchalance, flapped him away, Rushed at him until he turned at the edge of his kingdom, Crowed and crowed and crowed again Until I was sure the sky would shatter and rain down on us. And with one last crow of defience Strutted away to join his ladies and each in turn Were shown the colour of his dominence. The status quo restored, he retired to the shade of an apple tree, Plump again with rage and pride regained. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 123 [topic] => 27 [informant] => cashfan1 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => NaturePoetry )
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