Chookedy chookedy chook chook poo

Green is one of my favourite colours. Actually, I tell a lie. I hate green. I grew up in it. Well, the bottle green variety of it, that is: thick woven, girls' school blazer and bottle green striped tie and always with matching undies. How I detested those matching undies. Just don't get me started on the stockings. Urgh.

I only said green is one of my favourite colours in case Al Gore were listening. Or my lawnmower. Or the planet. Indeed, having just celebrated World Environment Day in early June, I took care to think about our precious Earth and my green aspirations. And what I thought of was just how many times I've tried to go green and got it all wrong. Not necessarily major international corporation oil slick in the ocean wrong. We best not go there. But other wrongs. So, I'm sorry planet Earth. I shall continue to try and love you by atoning for my sins of misplaced recycling endeavour and hope I get it right somewhere along the way.

Fortunately, my angst is assuaged a little knowing that I am not alone. Oh how I am so not alone. So now, let us turn to some kindred spirits, heady with love in their acts of mucked up planet appreciation. We have Sarah, Courtney, Robert, Max, Jake and, last and smelliest, Yvette...


Chook poo love song to the planet


Scooping up the chicken poo
left on dirt as chickens do,
Yvette she knew, yes, through and through,
Earth would love this stinky brew.

Piffed it out into the sky
upon the garden just nearby.
Heart so full, Yvette near cried,
I love you planet, watch me try!

Down the road I heard her sing,
‘twas Sarah, earthy goddess thing,
at her best recycling
all the cards and Chrissie bling.

Tossing them into the fire,
heart uplifted, higher, higher,
thinking of her great desire
not to...catch the house on fire.

The two of them were full of mirth,
saving their dear planet Earth
and tidying, for what it’s worth,
the junk and poop, like spring rebirth.

Max he was a kindred chap:
loving the planet, he’d got the knack
of filling up his shopping sack
to take his plastic bags all back.

That’s right, to the supermarket.
Do his bit before he carked it
and to his wife he had remarked
with groceries bought, he’d multi-tasked it.

Robert rather loved bright flowers.
Took deep whiffs and smelt for hours
and with his great greeny powers
gave them to his love in showers.

Offered them with loving flair.
He’d hit a soft spot with her there.
Roses garlanded her hair
and strewn about most everywhere.

Courtney, wow, she’d upped the stakes
to make mosaics from old plates -
plenty of room to make mistakes
and better than those plastic fakes.

Jake he gardened for a living and
whippersnipped into oblivion,
out in winter in his skivvy’n
loving the earth it made ‘im giddy ‘n

everyone knew what it meant:
Do their best ‘til they were spent.
Just like paying planet rent,
mending the environment.

Hearts all full, they tended it.
Dusted, patched and rendered it.
Pruned and preened, made splendid it
and there it sat, pretended it

had not been tragically put out
with all the ways they’d shown their clout
in proving love, without a doubt,
but sadly, no, had come to nout…

For Jake had whippersnipped, good grief,
lawns and gardens beyond belief,
‘til every flower, plant and leaf
were flattened mulch, yes, gravel in chief.

Courntey had been unaware
her fine mosaics brought a heady glare
from her dear mother standing there
now set to launch a kitchen chair

upon her daughter grimacing
because, oh dear, now here’s the thing,
the family fine boned china…ding!
Courtney, artiste, had smashed, ka-ching.

Oops, winced Courtney, too late now
and there was Robert with a heavy brow,
busted by his wife and how
he’d had to promise, make a vow

that never would he steal again
flowers plucked from down the lane
from all the neighbours’ homes, what shame.
Should have asked, but he wasn’t game.

And to our Max with logic elastic
returned his bags, not quite fantastic,
for as he shopped enthusiastic
simply bought up brand new plastic:

Snap lock bags and rolls for the bin,

orange ones to put the green stuff in,

took him a while ‘til the truth went ding!

Hardly a beacon of re-cy-c-ling.

Back at Sarah’s place meanwhile

burning cards, how versatile,

smoke filled air a thousand miles.

Mucked it all up and did it in style.

Loving the earth with fire in the heart.

How to get it wrong, oh, where to start?

Greenie mishaps off the chart,

served with aplomb, quite a la carte.    

As for Yvette…What can you do?

Tossing chook droppings, suddenly knew

as back she stepped - you saw it too?
Splodge! Splat! Yup. Into…dog poo.

Hoe. Hoe...Hoe.

This is Sarah. This is Sarah before her Christmas a la carte went up in smoke up la chimney - tinsel, wrapping, leftover pudding, Tupperware rice mould, Santa earrings, cards and all!


©Elise Batchelor 2010