Hi.

Were you expecting a poem? I’m afraid you shall be disappointed. For I am at this point in time more interested in Chicky Chick’s adventures. Perhaps Chicky Chick should become a poet………what would chickens write poetry about? Delicious bugs? I know, I know, you are all so happy I have brought to your attention a most important question, what would a chicken write poetry about, if a chicken could write poetry.

However, in this exciting edition of The Adventures of Chicky Chick, Chicky Chick shall pursue a different occupation…

Well, here is what you have all been waiting for. Another chicken story.

I hope you like reading it. (I liked writing it).

The Adventures of Chicky Chick: Volume Two

Chicky Chick Wishes for Freedom

Chicky Chick the Remarkable Explorer

The Great Explorer

It was a warm and food-filled day. The other 7 chicks were content with their life in the little green storage tub, but Chicky Chick dreamt of more. Chicky Chick dreamt of freedom. For many hours now, Chicky Chick had begun to think of what lay beyond their tub. Were these plastic walls and floors all there was to the world? No! Chicky Chick could not believe, would not believe, that this was all there was to life! Chicky Chick yearned for more. Her mind was made up. She would do what her sisters had not the strength to do. She would venture beyond these green plastic walls. She would leave her home. She would explore what lay beyond!

Chicky Chick’s brave thoughts were rudely interrupted by a strange, terrible sight. A giant stretch of shiny mesh was being stretched over the tub! Chicky Chick stood rooted to the spot in horror. Her plans were shattered before her eyes. Her dreams and hopes were broken into dust and swept away by the wind.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Chicky Chick chirped in terror.

Chicky Chick watched as the tub was completely covered by the wire mesh-almost. There was still a space at the end of the tub with nothing over it! Nothing was there to stop her from taking flight and hopping right out of the tub. How she was to get back in never crossed her mind.

Chicky Chick backed up to the opposite edge of the tub. She would need a running start if she was to fly high enough to clear the wall of the tub. She fixed her eyes determinedly on her goal. Nothing could stop her now. Chicky Chick took a deep breath and started running. The world seemed to slow around her as she started on what could very well be the greatest feat of her young life. Her heartbeat sounded loudly in her ears. One foot in front of the other. She was almost there. She passed the feeder. Her sisters abandoned their dinner to stare in uncertainty at Chicky Chick’s glorious feat of daring. Chicky Chick continued. Soon her dreams would be realized. Nothing stood between her and the wonderous thing we call freedom. She passed the waterer and tensed in preparation for flight. Time slowed to a crawl for Chicky Chick as she began to flap her wings. She was off the ground, she was flying, she was-

A large piece of plywood slid over the opening. Chicky Chick’s sisters watched as Chicky Chick flew straight at it, hitting it and falling to the ground. And in that long fall, Chicky Chick saw everything she had hoped for, everything she had worked so hard for, fall with her. Dreams of freedom, of exploring what lay beyond, turned to dust. There would be no “Chicky Chick the Great Explorer.” She would never return in triumph to lead her sisters out of the tub that was their prison, out into the wonderful world Chicky Chick knew in her heart lay beyond. It was all gone, vanquished by a single piece of wood. Her heart shattered into a million pieces as she fell. If chickens could cry, Chicky Chick would. Instead, Chicky Chick closed her eyes in sorrow and waited to hit the ground.

Hit the ground she did not, instead landing on top of her sister, Chirp Chirp. (Chirp Chirp was not pleased about her role in softening Chicky Chick’s fall, but that’s a different story). Chicky Chick struggled to her feet. Her heart broken, she stared in grim silence at the plywood that had sent her crashing back to earth. Chicky Chick was lost in mournful thoughts of hopes shattered.

Until the thought occurred to her that she was really quite hungry, and her sister Bawk Bawk was eating out of HER feed hole. This she could not let stand. Chicky Chick raised her head high in determination and ran over to inform her sister of her mistake, all thoughts of freedom and exploration gone.

So here our story ends, and the one chronicling Chicky Chick’s great adventures leaves the reader to contemplate the brief career of Chicky Chick the explorer. Will Chicky Chick ever escape? Is she destined to see nothing but the tub? What lies beyond the tub? Does chicken food taste good? I mean….um……bye.

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked my attempt at humor. It was amusing to write. Chicky Chick the Explorer…….(chuckles).

Now for a quote from one of previous poems, as always.

Hidden Again

“The sun peeks out,

throwing back the curtain made of clouds

to gaze upon the earth.” -Kylli Berg

Hi.

My basement smells like a farm.

Kind of.

It doesn’t smell that much.

Are you wondering, “what in the world is she talking about?”

I’ll tell you.

Chickens.

Baby chickens.

Baby chicks are so cute. They’re cute when they sleep. They’re cute when they drink. They’re cute when they eat. They’re cute when they make short little daring flights that usually result in them waking up and otherwise annoying their sisters/cousins/distant relations/they might not even be related. They’re cute when they try to peck each other’s eyes out- just kidding, that is NOT cute. It is very rude, and I would much rather them peck the doodles I stuck on a piece of cardboard and put in their brooder. But they have different ideas. That is what I am writing about today. After you have read it, I think you will agree these chickens are crazy. Crazy cute. And just plain crazy.

The Adventures of Chicky Chick: Volume One

The Great Discovery

It was a warm and food-filled day. The chicks were happily chirping in their brooder. Life was good. Lots of food, water, and a nice lamp to keep them toasty warm. Sure, there was the occasional fights between siblings, (after all, everybody knew only the three holes closest to the heat lamp were worth eating from) and eyes might have been mistaken for nice tasty bugs once in a while, but for the most part, the 8 young ladies were quite well behaved.

But Chicky Chick had made an incredible discovery. She had been kicking up the pine shavings on the ground, trying to get them in her sisters’ eyes. (No one can now remember why her sisters deserved pine shavings kicked at them). As Chicky Chick kicked some more pine shavings at her sisters, missing and getting pine shavings in the water instead, she saw something incredible. Grey. A hard Grey surface lay underneath the pine shavings. She chirped loudly, a discovery like this needed to be shared. “Hey, come look at what I found!”

The pine shavings aimed at them forgotten, the other chicks rushed to Chicky Chick.

“What is it?”

“Is it food?’

“Is it dangerous?”

“Wait, food?”

“FOOD!!!”

The chicks huddled in a circle, pecking excitedly at the Grey. They pushed and shoved, all wanting to peck at the Grey.

“It’s amazing!”

“It’s incredible!”

“It’s the best thing I ever pecked!”

Then, suddenly, a giant Hand reached down! The chicks scurried away in fright, abandoning the Grey, peeping in distress.

“It’s a monster!’

“It’ll kill us all!”

“We’ll be eaten alive!”

The chicks were wrong about the “alive” part.

The Hand brushed pine shavings back over the Grey, removing all traces it even existed.

The chicks gasped in horror.

“It destroyed the Grey!”

The Hand retreated, and the chicks stood frozen in unbelief, slowly beginning to peep a mournful song of sorrow, for the Grey was gone forever. Or at least for the next few minutes, until the exact same thing happened all over again.

The End.

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it. (By the way, none of them actually have names, “Chicky Chick” was invented for the purposes of that story. I would never name a chicken “Chicky Chick.” Breakfast is a much better name). I’m thinking about making this a regular/sort of regular thing, “The Adventures of Chicky Chick. I think it would be cool, it depends on whether the chicks do anything interesting. I think they will, but you never know. They might just decide to eat, sleep, and basically do nothing interesting enough to write about. But, then again, I have a feeling Chicky Chick might get into many more adventures………maybe.

Well, I’ve talked about chickens long enough, now for a glimpse into the past with a quote from one of my previous poems,

Life

“Bright green sprouts struggle towards the light,

fighting to glimpse the sky.” -Kylli Berg

Hi,

It was amazingly warm outside today, I felt like I could go swimming!

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating, but 50 degrees sure feels warm when it’s been cold enough to use the porch as a refrigerator for months. So, here is a poem about the great event of a warm day in early spring. I hope you like it.

A Warm Day

In the north,

when the snow is melting and the birds are singing,

there’s that one day,

that one wonderful day,

when the cold winds of winter retreat for a moment,

and the sun comes out,

and everyone looks at the weather and says,

“It’s 50 DEGREES! Let’s go outside without coats or jackets like it’s summer! It’s so warm out!”

And they scramble outside, blinking at the sunlight.

Kids ride bikes,

adults take long walks,

neighbors chat,

dogs bark happily,

and cars are washed for the first time in months.

Then,

all too soon,

the day is done,

and as the sun sets,

folks sit on their porches and sigh contentedly.

And although the next day it’s cold enough to snow,

and everyone shivers as they put on their heavy coats and scarves,

people say to each other,

“Wasn’t it nice yesterday?”

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it.

Now, again, a quote from one of my earlier poems,

The Mistletoe

“I should be preparing for spring,

preparing for the time the sun will shine.” -Kylli Berg

Hi,

There is so much snow everywhere, and I realize that probably you may think me crazy, here I am writing a poem abut it like you didn’t know all about it, but I wrote a poem about snow, and that’s that.

Hope you like it.

Snow

Snow is cold.

Snow is cold, and terrible in it’s arrogance,

for arrogant snow is,

yes,

arrogant in its sparkle,

it deceptively welcoming light, warm sunlight glinting off it,

turned cold, cold by the snow.

And I love the snow,

yes, yes,

love it,

less,

as the years go by,

for the promise of sledding and snowballl fights,

but for the memories of such things,

memories lying in the coldly smiling snow.

And I hate the snow,

more,

as the years go by,

for the future promises it brings,

of cold, weary, trudges to fill the birdfeeder for the birds flocking to greedily gobble up all the food they can find,

of the horrible things that surely there must be,

brought on by the snow,

which I cannot think of now,

for I do not, after all, hate the snow,

the snow with it’s beautiful sparkle,

the snow with the joy it brings to little children on Christmas Eve,

no,

I do not hate the snow so much.

But I like summer quite well too.

Now, once again, the words you know so well, here is a quote from one of my previous poems!

Seasons

“Bright smiles

spring coming

hope flying

snow melting.” -Kylli Berg

Hi,

I’m sure none of you ever let your Christmas decorations stay up too long.

Nobody does that.

Espeicially not me.

Totally.

The Mistletoe

Christmas is long past,

the season-

it went by too fast,

I should be preparing for spring,

preparing for the time the sun will shine,

but my Christmas tree still stands tall on my porch,

the Christmas towels still hang on the oven and the dishwasher,

the mistletoe still hangs from the ceiling.

The Christmas tree will soon be put away (probably),

the Christmas towels shall be folded and tossed in a drawer,

but

I have a feeling

the mistletoe

will stay right where it is.

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it.

Now, again, I shall show you a quote from one of my previous poems, and give you the link to it, so you can read even MORE of my poetry. Is that awesome, or what?

Yeah.

Christmas Secrets

“Whispered secrets,

packages hastily hidden away,

a flurry of excitement is in the air.” -Kylli Berg

Hi,

I am notorious for thinking it’s warmer than it is, and running outside to quickly do something or the other, barefoot, of course.

So I decided to write a poem about, well, um, walking around barefoot.

It sounds a little silly when you say it out loud.

But I think it’s pretty good.

I hope you like it.

Barefoot

Summer.

soft grass

on my feet

as I run

to catch the sky

Fall.

almost too cold

to run

and get the coat from the car

Winter.

teeth chattering cold

rushes in

when I open the door

to dart out and grab the rice

left on the porch

in our giant fridge

that’s only in use in winter.

Spring.

warm or cold

not sure yet

run in the grass

cold wet dew

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it.

Now for a look at one of my previous poems,

The Wild Clothes

“The Night is Dark and Cold,

As a Barefoot Girl

Runs to Catch

The Wild Clothes.” -Kylli Berg

Hi,

The most incredible thing in the history of the world has happened. 2020 is over. Whoa. Amazing, right? Now 2021……

Anyway, here is a poem I wrote inspired by the New Year.

I hope you like it.

New Year

A clean slate

like the snow outside

untarnished

until someone steps in it

but

that someone

might make something beautiful

from the snow

leaving it better than it was

before.

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it!

Now for a quote from one of my previous poems,

The Lawn and the Mower

“Yesterday I mowed the lawn-

a third of the way, at least.

The Mower went and broke on me,

that giant metal beast.” -Kylli Berg

Hi,

Christmas is soon, so today I am showing you a poem I wrote about the experience of everyone getting gifts for each other and being very secretive about it.

I hope you like it!

Christmas Secrets

Whispered secrets,

packages hastily hidden away,

a flurry of excitement is in the air,

scissors and tape are in high demand around the house,

everyone scurrying about like a mouse,

experienced parents hiding presents in their closets,

independent teenagers (they think) who still need a ride to the store,

giggling children making their first attempt at giving rather than receiving,

and tiny babies who don’t care about anything except whether they can see their mama.

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it!

Now for a quote from one of my previous poems,

Pie

“O Pie,

deliciousness in dough,

you graciously grace us with your gracious presence.” -Kylli Berg

Hi,

Here is a poem I wrote.

I hope you like it.

A Tear & A Smile

A tear,

lit by the moonlight,

falls through the ages,

weaving it’s sad song through the eons,

causing the trees to weep for things that have not happened yet,

and the wind to roar in anger for those that cried long ago.

A tear,

falling,

weeping.

But the tear is not alone.

A smile falls too,

lit by the sunlight,

laughing,

hoping,

dancing through the ages,

telling the birds to sing of joyous things that have not yet come to pass,

and the ocean to dance for peace began and ended and began again a long time ago.

A tear and smile.

Forever at war and forever at peace.

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it!

Now for a quote from one of my previous poems,

Leave

“the tree outside

my window

is dying” -Kylli Berg

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving is often a time filled with food, turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and all manner of baked goods, such as PIE.

I have been baking pie.

Pies, actually.

Pie is yummy.

Pie.

Pie

O Pie!

You sit on the back porch,

radiant in all your glory,

your sugary goodness encased in a glass pan,

that is not worthy of your amazing awesomeness!

O Pie,

O Pie,

deliciousness in dough,

you graciously grace us with your gracious presence-

“What are you thinking about with that goofy look on your face?”

“Nothing…”

“All right, let’s cut the pie.”

O Pie,

Your sacrifice is greatly appreciated!

Thanks for reading this, I hope it brightened your day!

Instead of a quote from one of my older poems though, today I’ll be sharing a small little rhyme I wrote.

Orange.

Rhymes with.

Orange.