The Little Chick Had To Fly

I’m a little yellow chick,

Who once worked alongside,

The Easter Rabbit,

I helped him decide,

What to put in all the baskets,

I really tried,

But it did not suit me,

So I took a ride.

 

I hopped a train,

And got off,

At its tenth stop,

Where I ran into a cop,

Holding up a blue umbrella,

‘Cuz it was pouring down rain.

 

Being a chick,

From a Fairyland,

I could read,

So I found a sign,

Telling me I was in the Big Apple,

How divine!

 

I took up a residence,

In Central Park,

Where I made friends with a frog,

Who hangs out,

With a loud crowd,

We sometimes like to trip,

People out for a jog,

Or startle a dog,

And make him bark.

 

One night while out,

On the town,

I got an idea,

Out of the blue,

And on each chicken leg,

I got a tattoo,

One is a lion,

The other is a lamb,

Man I’m loving the city,

And my legs so pretty!

 

I became very fond,

Of the hustle and bustle,

And the worldly ways,

But I still kept Easter,

In my heart of hearts,

Though I made room too,

For other things to have a part.

 

I eventually built up my place,

Into a regular chicken mansion,

That was very handsome,

Full of furniture and such,

Of the latest fashions.

 

Now I realized I had,

Too much time on my hands,

So I took a job,

At a hotdog stand,

Where I heard lots of music,

And got interested,

In joining a band.

 

So my frog friend,

And the rest of our circle,

Got ourselves up our own band,

We played Christmas music,

And our frontman was a turtle,

Oh how this would make,

Those Easterland Creatures lose it!

 

The years flew by,

Full of fun and fortune,

’til by and by,

I was feeling my age,

And decided to,

Live life with more caution.

 

That was so many years ago now,

A quarter – century,

To be exact,

That time stuffing baskets,

Is just a distant memory,

Now I work in a factory,

Machining parts for weaponry.

 

I still go back for Easter,

If I didn’t,

Dear old Mr. Rabbit,

Would have my keister,

I can now appreciate these weeks,

I spend there,

We have a great parade,

Before delivering all the baskets,

Then come home to a smashing party,

And spend hours eating,

And dancing to delightful beats.

 

But fun as it is,

I’m satisfied,

That I spread my wings,

I’ll never regret,

Doing my own things,

I’m always happiest when I’m again,

At my own dreamy den.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grandpa Joe’s Successor

I am The Ghost Of The Railroad Tracks,

All of you travelers,

Had better watch your backs.

 

I’m fairly new to the Haunting profession,

And though I did well with my lessons,

Something meant for fun,

Could turn as deadly as a loaded gun.

 

So you can better understand,

First here’s some history,

About little ol’ me.

 

Not all Ghosts are manifestations,

Of the departed dead,

Showing up as apparitions,

Full of ill intentions.

 

I was born as one,

The same as you were born as human,

I have a Ghost Ma,

And a Ghost Pa,

Plus one annoying sister,

Who bats her eyes,

And says ‘ooh la la’.

 

My family lives,

On The Wrong Side Of The Tracks,

Dead center through there runs,

The Railroad Tracks themselves,

Opposite us and to the South,

Lies The Left Side Of The Tracks.

 

Us Wrong Siders,

We are mostly good folk,

Although those Left Siders,

Will tell you we’re a joke.

 

All of us live in The Village,

The one just North of Town,

That seems to humanity,

Empty and run-down,

But to us,

It’s a true home-town.

 

We grow up similar to people,

Except we are invisible,

I guarantee before I told you that,

None of you,

Even knew,

We are there,

Though we are,

Among you everywhere.

 

I am now an adult Ghost,

Ma and Pa threw a party for me,

They’ve always been,

First-rate hosts,

Everybody to me made a toast,

And now in Haunting the Tracks I’m engrossed.

 

Some of us get easy jobs,

Such as Haunting Things That We Ourselves Don’t Do,

Human activities,

Such as eating and sleeping and bathing,

They are of a great interest to us,

So Haunting them does not take,

Much brainwork for creativity.

 

Somehow I got,

The gig for the Railroad Tracks,

And not to express negativity,

But this post has been empty,

Since Grandpa Joe died,

And that has been a long while,

I have some big shoes to fill,

Which will take substantial skill,

That man was a brilliant Haunter,

He was very sly and wily.

 

I’d like very much to take after Grandpa,

He had some top-notch tricks up his sleeve,

Sure to leave the Railroad’s passengers,

Either scared or peeved,

So far,

I believe,

I’ve come up with some things,

That would have him pleased.

 

In times past,

Never a train passed,

That Grandpa didn’t leave,

Someone feeling aghast,

Oh Hell yes,

He gave them a fear,

That was sure to last.

 

“AAAAAHHHHHHH” came the scream,

It was terrifically loud,

And woke the sleeping passenger beside her,

From his dreams,

That was caused by me,

It was my first solo Haunting,

She was drinking coffee,

Fighting off the hail to slumber,

So I sidled up beside her,

And blew bubbles in her coffee,

While my hand yanked down quickly on her ear.

 

I’ve got plans tonight,

For the Five O’clock Train,

I will make one traveler’s eyes see freezing rain,

Just while he goes the mile,

Through the center of our Village,

For all others,

The sky shall remain bright and sunny,

Then when he goes crazy,

They’ll all bet their money,

The One did not experience,

Something legendary.

 

I wonder how mean it would be,

To jump inside the front car,

And fast grab some young’un,

Tell the child “Shush I’m a friend”,

Then dart to the end,

Oh the laugh I would get,

When the parent would run,

After the little angel,

They sure would not understand,

That it’s just tradition,

And no harm was meant to be done,

It’s really all in fun.

 

I’d like to one day master,

Materializing as an apparition,

Then stand on these Tracks,

While the Train’s a-comin’,

Looking like a young man tempting fate,

Then when the conductor startles,

And activates his brake,

A fool of him I will make,

I will disappear,

As he’s looking witless,

Stuttering and trembling with fear.

 

If I could produce a rain of rocks,

Seeming to fall from above,

Then go from side to side,

Crossing over the roof,

Like in a juggler’s pattern,

I’d really love,

To see them all freak out,

Whining and yelling,

Scared out of their minds,

But by the time they go telling,

Of their Supernatural Adventure,

I’d have snapped up their proof,

That there’s really a spook.

 

You don’t have to believe in me,

The Ghost Of The Railroad Tracks,

But if you choose to travel by rail,

Don’t take this route,

Because I will not fail,

And Lord only knows,

If you will make it out.