Sitting on a wire
Why is your back turned towards me?
Do you wish to hide the intelligence of your eyes,
or do you wish to create some mystery?
I have seen you
Here at this old dump
Picking through the unwanted wanted things
I wish I could search along with you
Check out what the Jones's have no more use for
The bits of unfixed
The not new enough
Their "I think we deserve the very best"
"This ain't good enough, let's buy more and more stuff!"
At one time
I wore their discarded clothes
Wore them without pride
I should have been proud
For I dug for them with wanting hands
Hands that waded through decadence
I watched you and your brothers
As you feasted on our last suppers
Ripping open black bags
Fighting for morsels
Unconcerned with the rotting
Intoxicated by fermenting fruit
Bones that needed to be picked clean
Me noticing but not recalling until now
I was hoping
Praying for a bicycle
Desperately wanting to ride far away from here
Escape my then
My, I hope no one sees me!
"Where did you get that coat?"
"We threw that in the dump!"
Boy oh boy do I like clothes now.
No one makes fun of what I wear!
Part of me wishes to return with you Black Bird
To see what I left behind
Recycle that little boy
But I can't
The dumps aren't open anymore
It is like those old bones
Items placed in appropriate piles
All the while
You sit on your wire
Back turned to me
Intelligent eyes hidden
Knowing I can't disturb you
In a while you will feed on yesterday
For this place
Is not closed to you!
Turning and dipping in graceful, acrobatic flight,
my spirit soars against a sky brilliantly blue;
from these heights, I view life in its completeness,
its complex boundaries and limitations sharply defined.
I maintain my composure, calm and unruffled by the storms . . .
I sail above the strife where the sun spreads warmth upon my wings.
From this lofty perspective, I watch over my dearest ones.
This clear air provides treasures of wisdom, beauties like the facets of precious jewels,
sparkling with the vibrance that makes joy complete;
I glean and feed them to my little ones, giving them nutrients to enrich their minds.
Home is my central focus.
I learn and implement all that I can to make my nest comfortable and complete,
a rich environment for growth.
Do not intrude; I protect what is mine.
May 11, 2015
I am a swallow--protection, warmth, home, proper perspective.
Cindy had a little Bird,
Little Bird, little Bird,
Cindy had a little Bird,
Its feathers were yellow as the sun
And everywhere that Cindy went,
Cindy went, Cindy went,
Everywhere that Cindy went
The Bird was sure to go
It followed her to school one day
School one day, school one day
It followed her to school one day
Which was against the rules.
It made the children laugh and play,
Laugh and play, laugh and play,
It made the children laugh and play
To see a Bird at school
And so the teacher turned it out,
Turned it out, turned it out,
And so the teacher turned it out,
But still it lingered near
And waited patiently about,
Patiently about, patiently about,
And waited patiently about
Till Cindy did appear
"Why does the Bird love Cindy so?"
Love Cindy so? Love Cindy so?
"Why does the Bird love Cindy so?"
The eager children cried
"Why, Cindy loves the Bird, you know."
Loves the Bird, you know, loves the Bird, you know
"Why, Cindy loves the Bird, you know."
The teacher did reply
Gazing, at its own reflection is the Magpie.
A magic bird, a mystical creature, with a soul
and the power to see things, the power of scrying.
It sees a tomb in ancient Egypt. It sees death.
A soul locked within a glorious bronze mirror,
Cleopatra and her Maid in a bond unbroken.
Time passes in silence as deep as the unbroken
promise of endless wisdom, gifted by the Magpie.
whose caws the Maid hears, within the depths of the mirror,
calls to the Queen, her Cleopatra, to her soul.
Magpie speaks to She on the Eastern Barge in the afterlife of death,
and to her Maid entombed. The sacred bird so near scrys.
The Magpie sits within oasis staring into the pool. It scrys
for all this time, its vigil, its protection, never broken.
Even when the sarcophagus is carried to the necropolis of the dead,
without, unknown, the bird speaks wisely through reflection, her Magpie.
Entombed, his Queen and her Maid, their bodies but not their souls,
Queen, Maid and Magpie, each cast a last gaze, alive within the mirror.
The Vows of Innocence, the Maid bespeaks the mirror.
Pleas to the Swallower of Shades, both Queen and Maid have scried
to The Burning One, and claim no lie, upon their soul.
As the light dims within the Maids eyes, in tomb unbroken,
she sees the life of her Queen and their Magpie
pass fast upon the brass, last breath of life and dying.
Oh, too soon the end, moans the Maid, I am dying.
Her life's reflection moves bronzed upon the mirror.
She screams, "My Queen," but hears only the caw of Magpie.
All around her other servants succumb and cry, whilst she sits scrying,
and the Magpie flies above in life entombed, eternity, unbroken.
As she beseeches all the Gods to save her soul.
The Magpie's spirit self moves within the mirror's soul.
He swoops gathering Cleopatra's essence, past the dying,
and brings her to the Maids side unbroken.
In afterlife upon the Eastern Barge they join the mirrored
whole, for he, the bird of magic, Magpie, has called and scried
it so. Part light of life, part dark of death, the Magpie.
The essence of each entwine united within this eternal mirror
for the Magpie cannot bear their deaths. He will protect and forever scry
in life the mirror sits unbroken a stolen bauble, and in it they dwell with the Magpie.
Stork flights in unison To teach unity to every person
Holding the neck extended Aligning the body as if amended
With legs pushed behind To cope with blowing wind
With wide wingspan like the glider In a well-defined order
Hover with one, as leader Of course, watching is a wonder
With the flame of foresight, Stork sets own nest on height
Bears young ones into the wing Benevolently while growing
With wings, provides shade to the young chick So that they could learn to pick
Causes to clatter to communicate About the impending threat, to indicate
Maintains link with the group To get the team spirit, recoup
Revisits the old-aged-mother To attend to issues that may bother
Cares the mother, with fresh feed As the mother may need
Stork is a bird of highest spirituality
In Hebrew, stork means love and loyalty!
Above poem is from “EAGLE EDUCATES ENDURANCE! AND OTHER POEMS ON NATURE ” by Shri.V.Muthumanickam.
I fly in the sky
I swim in the sea
I sleep in the night
And in the trees I live
The forest once was my home
That I always cherished
For me and every one
Who lived on this beautiful heaven?
Coming into the flame of fire
Together with my family
Helps me to remember and tell to all
That has caused the dead of all?
Came five days ago
Three to four men
With something in there mind known as the plan
To destroy what was known as our home
Came few men
After few days
To destroy us all together with the forest
To clear the land
They lighted the fire
They parked some big bulldozers
To clear the trees and removes the stones
After everything is burnt by the flames of the fire
Together with my family
Praying to the god as one
To forgive our sin
And tell the reason for this everything
Nothing I heard from up
But something from down
As few men said
For the development, let happen this destruction
the egg has returned
to the nest
Could a scythe cut a slice
from a sycamore tree?
If a bird had no feathers
what bird would it be?
If a square had three corners
would it still be a square?
Will your curls always swirl
if you tug at your hair?
My curls will always swirl
For questions make them so
You will question me ‘why’
when my answer is ‘no’.
If I answer you ‘yes’
You will question with ‘how’
If a tree could grow knowledge
I'd reach for a bough.
‘Do you like Pigeons Dad’
“They’re scummy things
They’re Rats with wings
They’re vermin of the sky”
‘That can’t be right Dad’
“They pilfer seed
They breed at speed
And harbour disease you know”
‘Are you sure dad’
“Since the Rock Pigeon flew
And ended up in a stew
Since their domestication by men”
‘But I like Pigeons Dad’
‘I like how they sing
I like the shape of their wing
So you should like them too’
“But I don’t like Pigeons Son.
Their walk is bizarre,
They crap on my car
And they’re really not that clever”
...they wake me in the morning,
With their delightful coo,
Their plumage is wonderful - an iridescent blue.
They look good in the garden Dad
They don’t make such a mess
Do you like Pigeons Dad?’
[This poem was the result of being asked this question many, many, many times by my son. My son is on the autistic spectrum - he has Asperger's Syndrome to give the official diagnosis. He is a lovely human being & I love him dearly. But one of his most irritating traits, is the fact that he asks the same questions continuously all day every day. No matter how you respond, the same question will be posed minutes later. Currently and for at least the last 2 to 3 years: 'Do you like pigeons daddy?' is his favourite/most frequently asked question. Now that you know that, perhaps you can really feel the exasperation in that final ..."Yes"]
Afternoons the sky shuts down around the swamp's warning tapes
propped up with restoration piping and dirt leak fencing.
We’re fleeing toward the wild, seeking the names and shapes,
the same way the Cedar Waxwing flit and grip for berries tree to tree.
Canada Geese are easy, they lead off down the lane leaving residue,
Widgeons have green stripes and gold stripes, one American
the other European, and they’re all mumbling our family phew-do
they didn’t burn the kid, they can’t keep the house clean, drugs…
Blink away the cold wind tears. Forget all that, only remember
Shovelers have the long low profile and the long bill from studies
in New Zealand, like a deep breath, we set aside work, unlimber
spy the race of killdeer away from their guarding territory in gravel.
Our boss didn’t try to replace us, he ducked out to a new job
leaving the crime ringing in our ears like the police car roaring past.
Head down, we tunnel under the high way finding the dunk and bob
of mergansers and their hallowed or red heads,
remarking differences when the sudden scream of honking
mallards flee up river. Caught off guard, we wonder did we cause
all this pain? The rise and dunk flying goldfinch happily chirping
cling to the thistle, their favorite waste near the waste water
ponds where all the Black River water flows for cleaning
spilling into the nesting lower stages of the tertiary treatment.
That’s all this is, treatment for the shock wave week riding
current events on our shoulders, almost like the red-tailed hawk
that screams and skims our head, rising up to the setting sun
turning the sky purple and pink and bruised. That’s when wood
ducks skim into view, our breath captured and then steaming undone
but soon the heavens offer confirmation, blue angels
with their huge oversized wings soar in pairs down as gift.
We hold each other then, let screams silence, detail enriched.
His creatures failed to listen to His guidelines to grow
and got lost in their own wills. The rest we know.
So the Maker of his creatures animal and Human, the Generator Himself Creator of billions of stars and galaxies
black holes, planets, moons, suns,
time, space and all material, of everything visible and invisible …
decided in Pure Love to send down His Son, His Mirror
to become one of His Creatures. He, the Alpha and Omega,
The Beginning and the End, the second Person of the Blessed Trinity,
God Himself…. Came down to be one of His creatures… His little ones.
He came down and became one of us to lead us, to save us, show us the Way. Christ.
There was a man who did not and would not believe,
who could blame him in a world set to deceive.
One wintry freezing blustery Sunday after his family went to church,
he was watching the birds outside his picture window.
They were freezing to death he could see,
no place to hide and warm themselves in the bare trees.
His bird feeders had toppled in the snow
and his little friends had no where to go.
He quickly went to his entrance door and opened it wide
spread seed and suet in a trail into his house.
“Come inside my little friends he cried!”
I won’t hurt you and you will be safe here with me.
but they didn’t believe him…. Who could blame them
he thought in a world set to deceive….
Then in his anguish for his little friends he thought,
if only I could just for a day become one of them
to fly out there, then they would believe me!
then they would follow me into my house…where it’s warm.
and they would be saved! Poor little ones!
Then he understood….
The next Sunday He filled his birdfeeders
and went to the Christian church with his family.
to give thanks to the Almighty Love.
It was CHRISTMAS day.
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE !!!
< "Hark" the Herald Angels begin to sing
"Jesus"patiently awaits so her children can say their last goodbyes
Cancer is the one thing she will not have to bring
For she earned her wings and is now free to fly
Perception Of Heaven's Contest
Nature’s Single Dad:
The Australian Emu :
The first 55 days
Emund is busy
partners who’ll put
him to the test.
His pedigree line
has proven with time
that it is now his
turn, to be best.
He hears them emerge
from the bush as
they gather in
answer to nature’s
They dance, and then
go away, they know
they cannot stay;
there is not enough
food for them all.
They dip and they
weave as they mingle
that each has a
With his reputation,
there is no
he is ready to join
in the dance.
‘Bonk! Bonk,’ comes
the sound of another
Emulena!’ he says
with a grin.
Others move to the
side as he leaves
to greet this dancer
as she flounces in.
rhythmic movement of
hips she fluffs up
her boa, it bounces
He matches her mood.
His movements are
as they twist and
twirl in their
He does not fuss
about who takes the
lead, he follows and
their dance now is
With steps that are
light he glides to
he meets her, bows
“Sorry, we cannot
stay longer, we all
must find paddocks
It matters not
whether we all stay
we trust you to know
what to do.”
As she speaks, they
deposit their gifts,
and he hears, as in
chorus they say,
“We know you’ll do
magically, what you
to deliver these in
your own way.”
After completing her
task, Emulena stands
tall and she fluffs
up her feathers once
They follow her lead
in twos, and in
and promenade across
the dance floor.
Left all alone, he
goes back to his
duties and looks
closely at each pale
He checks all for
defects. He sees
they are perfect,
so with care he
covers every one
He sticks to his
task for fifty-five
days in sunshine,
strong winds and
He values each
treasure and tends
them with pleasure
as he, turns each
egg every three
Through his long
lashes he sees
danger coming. He
drops his neck down
like a log.
Feathers flying on
high and red fur
he needs to fool
both bird and dog.
The shells have now
turned a dark bluey
green, there’s an
infertile egg in the
This egg will be
food for his hungry
but he won’t eat or
drink, ‘til they
Each day he looks
up, and turns his
head to the sun as
it rises each
He’ll sit day and
night until the
He knows, that time
to be continued...
I watched a hatching baby chick
struggling to break free from its shell
that was its home for many days
but now was time to say farewell
Mom had pecked into the shell
a tiny hole to start the process
She did her part dutifully
Now the chick must do the rest
I felt sorry for the struggling chick
and could almost feel the pain
I wanted to break off the shell
thinking it would ease the strain
Then I remembered someone said
The chick must struggle on its own
to start its heart and lungs working
for it to become fully grown
I stood and watched as a miracle
unfolded right in front of me
All by itself the chick broke out
and stood there so cute and furry
There is a lesson here for parents
who are raising a family
Be protective of your children
but do not do it overly
*I actually witnessed this event.
I wrote this after reading Evrod Samuel's
TOO MUCH LOVE CAN KILL
john beharry, Any poem/Any form - for new poets of soup, 12/1/2013
They were and are always there and here and just are.
uncreated, unworldly Light, brighter than brightest star.
too complex for our proud little minds to fathom.
The Person of the Almighty Father, the Generator always was and will be,
The Person of the Son, Mirror, Word of the Father, and always will be.
The Person of the Spirit, the Sigh of Love between the Two .
These are the Persons of One God who are Three.
There was a man who did not and would not believe,
who could blame him; in a world set to deceive.
He believed in a God perhaps but not that Christ was His Son,
he saw God in Nature; of Christ’s church he would have none.
his family believed and that was alright with him.
he stayed home to watch nature: That was no sin.
Before all we know that was, there was Love,
So Pure a Love that we as mere humans cannot know,
Such palpable Joy and abundant Life They wished to share.
in Each Other They knew as God what They would do.
and it came to be. A Divine opportunity for you and me.
to share in that Wholesomeness of Life and Love.
to be created in His Image with intellect and will.
Part I - The Pessimist
I am a person without a name
I am a fire without a flame
I am a flower that will never bloom
I am a house without a room
I am a candle that will never melt
I am a feeling that cannot be felt
I am a picture without a frame
I am a goal, without any aim
I am a winner without a prize
I am a party without a surprise
I am a dreamer without a dream
I am a river without a stream
I am a poem without a rhyme
I am a clock that won't show you the time
I am a portrait without a face
I am a trial without a case
I am a key that won't open the door
I am a toy you don't want anymore
I am a bird that forgot how to fly
I am a joker, but I always cry
I am a thing that was never in use
I am a game that somebody will lose
I am a story that will never end
Well, I'm just somebody you won't understand.
Part II - The Optimist
I am a person with a beautiful name
I am a fire with most powerful flame
I am a flower that will always bloom
I am a house with room after room...
I am a candle that burns through the night
I am a feeling of lovers' delight
I am a picture with a solid frame
I am a healer, I carry no shame
I am a winner with the top, 1st place prize
I am a party with the biggest surprise
I am a dreamer with colorful dreams
I am a river with thousands of streams
I am a poem with a perfect rhyme
I am a clock that will show any time
I am a portrait of an angelic face
I am a trial with a strong, worthwhile case
I am a key that unlocks any door
I am a toy you will always adore
I am a bird that soars high in the sky
I am a joker, I forgot to cry
I am a thing that you'll always use
I am a game that you just cannot lose
I am a story that will never end
I am a trip! Come, join me my friend!
See the birds, migrating to long distance To plan for a life time instance
To breed and to feed the newborn As if they have sworn
In the healthy atmosphere of the world Against every odd, as bold
To lay a healthy foundation, for the next generation After adhering to all precaution
Mankind does not do such novel plan For the welfare of the next clan
Lady delivers child wherever she live Child struggles to strive and to survive
Mankind does not take serious care Concern for the future, became rare
Rather, mostly very casual Though this trend is now usual
Lessons to learn from birds are ample As birds are better to people!
Above poem is adapted from the eBook “EAGLE EDUCATES ENDURANCE! AND OTHER POEMS ON NATURE ” by Mr.V.Muthu manickam. Copyright is held by V.Muthu manickam.
with the kids and the dog
and the budgerigar
with the sun blazing hot
we set off in the car
with a bit of a rush
we reach the seaside
where the air's fresh and clean
and there's donkeys to ride
on the large sandy beach
we've a perfect picnic
with the sun beating down
the time passes quick
with the sky turning grey
we expect it to rain
with haste we pack up
and set off again
with the dusk drawing in
we are back from afar
with the kids and the dog
and the budgerigar
In a big shady tree
Way up high hard to see
This tidy little home
Where feathered friends may roam
Peck a crust of stale bread
Or safely clear their heads
What mystery through that door?
What treasures on the floor?
Fancy a twiggy nest
Wood grass straw and the rest
Maybe a bottle cap
Stuffed with foam for a nap
There was a special pair
Who loved to stay up there
One a bright red color
Rose patches the other
They were Cardinal mates
On those wintry dates
Returned every year
The memory so dear
Many years now have passed
Bird house battered alas
Strong winds taken it down
Splintered on the ground
A look inside a tear
But then I smile no fear
The nest? “Angel kept!” I sing
“And wife’s lost wedding ring!”
I Am a Bluebird
Two little bluebirds hatched one morn
Out of the eggshells their tiny beaks had torn
The little boy grew and became very proud
“Look at my bright blue feathers,” he chirped so loud
The little girl's feathers were rather pale
Gray in color with a light blue tail
Where he was cocky, she was shy
“My feathers are not as brilliant,” she wondered why
Then one day, several bluebirds landed on her tree
She realized, “Oh my goodness, they are courting me”
The next thing she knew, four eggs in a nest
“Beauty isn't everything, my babies are the best”
She worked very hard and showed her babies love
As she and her mate taught them to fly in the sky above
As life went on, her purpose became clear to see
Hard work, happiness, love, this bluebird is me
The description of the bluebird was modesty, unassuming, confidence and happiness transformation
What i love
About Christmas time
Is a leggy bird
And a vintage wine
With succulent breasts
And a figure so tanned
When i wash my hands
She'll soon be manned
She's the type of bird
Who leaves me well fed
With a glass of wine
I'm ready for bed
But this little bird
Can sure last longer
For she double serves
And my hungry heart grows fonder
At my table she sits
As my hands delight
She has my admiration
This delicious bird on Christmas Day
Is natures Turkey, a delight I'll say
And just before we sit down to eat
We are incredibly thank full, for such a treat
My entry for Donna Golden's contest " Turkey Tribute "
Adam and Eve had fell out with God,
By scrumping from his tree.
He’d chased them out in punishment,
So now they both were free.
They said farewell to all their friends,
They waved the snake goodbye.
Then newly clothed they wandered off,
A different life to try.
They came upon a shaded wood,
A place they could call home.
With running brooks, and fruit and nuts,
Where they could freely roam.
They lay for hours on mossy banks,
With Adam pleasing Eve.
So naturally it came to pass,
That Eve would soon conceive.
But Adam was a normal man,
His woman getting fat!
He looked around for other joys,
He didn’t fancy that.
But nowhere in his randy search,
Could Adam pull a bird.
They all had wings and flew away,
To chase them was absurd.
So Adam stopped his straying,
And returned back home to find.
That Eve was cuddling closely to,
Another of his kind!
Oh, blow me then, thought Adam,
A threesome it must be.
I only hope with her new love,
She finds some time for me.
But Adam was a father,
Although he didn’t know.
And he became a different man,
He loved his baby so.
Together as a family,
The first there was on earth.
Our couple bound together,
By the miracle of birth.
So take a lesson from this man,
Before you start to stray.
It doesn’t matter how she looks,
Just that she’s there to stay.
A child, a man, a parent,
This is the way of life.
You’ll be forever happy,
If you’re faithful to your wife.
Ivor G Davies
She wasn't a stray, but a sick yellow cockatiel,
with speckled gray on her feathers.
The pet shop was giving her away,
I was in elementary school when I got her,
she was a lovable bird and I enjoyed holding her.
Very timid she was, you could sort of hear her purr.
Not like a cat but in her own special way,
I would leave her on my stomach as I watched her when I laid.
She would look at me and still be rather bothered
of the fast movements of my hand,
and as a child I didn't know any better,
but her frightened little yellow, orange cheeked face
would stretch out and get skinny
and that would make me laugh out so silly.
She was still quite very sick and we kept her in a box,
she didn't leave the house,
she would ride on my shoulder or on my head.
I noticed her feathers where rather ruffled and gloomy,
so I decided to go outside and I think the light almost blew her mind,
'Cause she freaked out screamed!
..Well a little birdie squeal,
and she jumped off onto the ground
and in the grass she looked around.
Thank goodness her wings where clipped,
if not I would be a little girl crying
for a bird she surely missed.
And once again, since I was young
this act had made me laugh.
By golly corny puff, you're such a scaredy cat!
But then I saw, when she calmed down,
she looked up to the sky,
she watched the sun,
she watched the clouds,
and nibbled the grass blades.
I saw she was enjoying
her small little escapade.
So ever since then, I'd take her out
and sometimes she'd get away,
but she would always fly to the tree out front
so I would have to get on my tippy toes
and give her some guff.
And as the years passed, we would go out less,
cause as you get older life get's in the way.
I would pet her on the head and off to school I fled,
off to girlfriends,
off to my boyfriend,
off to an interview
off to a job,
and there Cornpuff stayed.
She would wander the house
and my dad got mad cause he stepped on her once,
but luckily only her tail.
We had a skylight and there she stand next to the fridge,
looking at the light of the day.
In the morning I would wake, to an odd scratching sound,
there she was biting my shoes, rubber crumbs on the ground.
Other days there's a tapping on the mirror,
for she was trying to get her reflection
and one time I looked down from my bed
and there she was trying to get my attention!
I would pick her up and leave her on my chest,
picking on the dry skin on my face.
I would fall asleep and soon would she,
my best friend found her place.
(The bluebird Saga)
She took a lot of convincing
Poor guy, he was trying
After the eviction from
purple martin domain
he had no home to offer
He quarreled and begged
scolding us, insensitive
clods that we were
Research taught us
exactly what we needed
Soon - not one, but three
bluebird houses were in place
He pleaded, he cajoled
She flew off with another
Now she's back
building a nest
in one of the three
He's a stand-up guy,
happy and content
All alone inside of my magical little paradise called my mind is an peaceful and quiet, the sun is like a gentle kiss on the cheek, and the people are just so warm and friendly but watch out because if you open your eyes everything you once knew will be gone. This magical little realm has an bloody little twist to it. The sun that was once as comforting as an warm blanket was in fact the glistening moon and the empty black sky, and the people are now all blood thirsty monsters that are no longer affected by the sun light are now out for blood.
I run to escape the sickening but yet oh so enticing scent of blood and failure, I run to escape the screams of those who's lives were cut just too short, and I run to escape the sight of the undead, blood thirsty zombies who are on the hunt for others to join their group. I'm running, running to safety and security but all the time there's nothing but pit falls and traps. I'm running and success isn't that far away but just then I see prince charming I stop and become distracted by his promising words but just then he too becomes a monster. I scream and try to run but I just can't you trap me in fire and I can't escape.
My mind goes numb, I can feel the darkness further enclose around me, my mind goes blank, and I forget about everything. On the inside I'm screaming, fighting, kicking to get away but on the outside I'm a love sick puppy. I know I'm stronger than this but there's something about you that I just can't get over. Just as the darkness seems to grow closer an light appears and an blue bird fights off my nightmare monster and takes me back to my snowy paradise where I'm safe and at peace and I continue my lonely dark and cold path to my brightly lite future with the little blue bird by my side reminding me that I am and will forever be loved by both my family, people who actually care about me, and god.
She watched the mountain intently
Like a bird who’s nestling of dwelling, complains
Yet, neither will move --
A surge of genius
Strikes the hollowed core ~
Worrisome thoughts she shan’t abide…
A mother’s love still strives,
Strong willed fledgling must now -- fly
Search to build, its -- own nest
-- Mother bird soars above the mountain -- mind at rest
An elder once said teach them well in the ways they must go… Like a hawk one must keep a
watchful eye for they are still your prizes; you never know when they may come home to
roost again... Or at least visit…
However, if they can't respect the home then its time
For them to fly on their own...
Baby bird, your time has come
To fly away from where your from
The time is now, fly from this place
Fly the coupe, don't leave a trace
It may be hard but you need to go
If you don't leave, the world you'll never know
It hurts me, yes, but you need to see
That your future is ahead of you, not here with me
This Heaven will turn to Hell if you stay
So fly away now, I have nothing left to say
While waiting but not watching for the sun to set, perhaps the bullfrogs are creating the shadows with their croaks, my friend screams out because he has been bitten by a fly. He is not quiet enough so the flies obtain special pleasure from teasing him. Meanwhile bluebirds skirt the lake surface like the most perfectly designed fighter planes in twos or threes and argue rising up on their tails into the air. While insects prey upon and tease the bare flesh and blood of we humans, they fear the silent violence, the sudden huge presences of these family birds.
A larva with a leaf tip for a cocoon descends a white birch by a long thread. We free ourselves from our writings to observe phenomenon. Then thinking about dinner. The flight of J. Krishnamurti, the eagle guru says even artists (after physicists and mathematicians) may penetrate the unknown if not too absorbed in their own emotions and imaginations. We common people too who loving our wives can love everyone.
What eyesight the bluebirds have to swoop the lake from shore for a flying insect or descend from fifty feet on a thin straw grass and return to chew absent-mindedly! Just fun having song sung among men. As for the syntax, a daisy could swing it unthinking and coast. Along the beehive rocks ants crawl on connecting interlacing instructions. All around us and inside too as if stars were unseen but present it's true. So a man desires breakfast with his lady; could it be more amusing, material or smell?
As the eyesun descends below spun clouds, spirit or the eagle or the drum? Round. The dialectic obscure couldn't be more better said. So round and serious. To love everyone with clearer vision than a bluebird or a lake is to transcend the innocence of insect and take flight action and feed the babies of fate. Phew! Dinner outside the cocoon. I brought myself a student upon the hill or mountain and said to myself I said Obo rebop in summer sweater and what less overweight can carry test uphill so slow? Presently, reformed, informed by the bluebird's eagle spirit, clear cleanhead, I return coagulating mightily ideas the bites of insects ow! to breakfast home and everywhere unknown. Hearing bird with clear conscience echo make.
The Stellaluna story, in verse.*
Hanging upside down
on a tiny tree limb,
she sleeps in daylight
with wings folded in.
No feathers on this one;
just fur, soft as down.
With wings spread wide,
she searches the ground.
Nocturnal, she forages
to assuage her appetite,
feasting on ripe fruit
in the black of night.
* Stellaluna, a baby bat, is the star of a children's book by the same name, written by Janel Cannon. An Owl attacks her mother, she falls off and into a nest of baby birds. She hates worms as food, and insists on hanging upside down, outside the nest, to sleep. Mother bird is frantic, to no avail. Stellaluna teaches her nest mates a few bad habits, like flying around in the dark.
Once there was a nest
high in a tree
where no one could even reach it
In that tree was a little bird
who knew everything
that his mom said to do
because his mom said it in a way
that he could hear in his egg
For that, he giggled
when he hatched.
He was not able to fly
but he was able to walk
He walked to his mom
and they lived happily ever after
and never went anywhere without each other.