Another haunted night, I watch
raindrops fall from consoling clouds,
track each plane flying south, and
I think of you.
My lungs empty a lonely sigh…
I bullet a dark, heaving sky
with my angry words as I curse you
for walking away again. I remember
the starlings that came earlier; they
circled low, then perched along
the eaves while the sun held me in
afternoon glow, as if to say goodbye,
friend. We will meet again.
I should have known.
Night after night, shadows march
a solemn procession across a long-faced
moon. I know he is mourning, too.
Weeds tangle my thoughts until I dream
in a web of mismatched memories
and neglected clues - so many questions,
left in a heap at the foot of our bed,
no answers said out loud. Loneliness plays
blackjack with my heart; mocking me tonight,
the house wins again. Why do I gamble
after losing you before? How many times
have you walked out that door?
I try to mend cracks exposed when
darkness fades into golden dawn.
I try to color my crumbling world
like a child. I paint smiles on your face
in our albums to tell myself lies.
I replay that moment you walked away;
I envision every detail down to one lace
that dangled from your new shoes,
new shoes bought to step into our new
life together. I remember when we wrapped
ourselves in our dreams to keep warm.
One day, your face will dissolve
like a rain puddle on a summer day.
One day, I’ll say goodbye and start again.
Maybe today will be that day.
At least today, I’ll try.
A lone starling in a dark, glossy suit
lands on my window sill at break
of dawn. It wakes me with its sweet,
warbled song and waits long enough for me
to rise from bed so I might feel the promise
of a new day shine through my soul. Then,
as my tears fall soft like flowing silk,
he spreads his wings and flies away.
In light of dawn’s blessings, I am
the starling, singing a goodbye song. I pray,
tonight, I dream of anyone but you.
written April, 2014
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
He goes there every day; to that bench in the shade;
Where his shoes have formed small clearings in the gravel;
where his wool sport coat has rubbed smooth the paint.
He goes there every day, to that bench in the shade
where the squirrels eat straight from his hand
as little birds frantically snatch up seeds he's sprinkled about.
He goes there every day, to that bench in the shade
but not today…and not again.
Submission for Contest: The Sense of Touch
Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015
Lost and broken
She now stares at the sky
A place she once knew
A place where she'd fly
Words soft spoken
She stares at her wings
Once Beautiful and strong
Left with no song to sing
Her tears are token
As she lowers her head
To hide the pain inside
Broken hearts dread
Copyright © Amanda Vinson | Year Posted 2015
I've seen more faces of parental love
As a child I heard folk lore from grandma
Often I lay calm in her elbow's cove
Night pressed her feet swollen with oedema
And in the noon we would hide in a room
With a binoculars to watch the birds
Collecting twigs for nesting babes in womb
Grandma was fun and all requests were heard
Grandpa moved around with his wailking stick
We took care of him on his pious bed
Didn't know he was dying thought him sick
In the middle of night goodbye he said
We hugged and cried at our world that collapsed.
New homes we were flown to, our ties just snapped
October 29, 2015
Contest: In The Name Of Love
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2015
Three of my chickens are dead and they have left a hole in my heart,
I want to mark their passing, prove that they were alive and very much loved by me,
They were real, breathing and full of life from the start,
Oh they made me laugh, so hilarious and quirky; such fun hidden away on our allotment,
They did no great deeds, were not famous and hardly anyone knew they were there,
Alert and trusting, they followed my steps, looked at me with their heads to one side, wondering and seeing,
They slept in my arms and closed their tiny eyes when I stroked under their beaks,
Laid eggs and loved wholemeal bread, sometimes combining the two in to a healthy treat in their run, pecking and pinching whatever they could,
Stood on my spade when I was trying to dig, and ate the biggest worms I ever did see,
Had me running in circles to catch them, jumped out of the hutch when I thought I’d put them in,
Kicked over their food tin so I’d give them more and always hid in the shed,
Rearranged their sleeping compartments when I had just cleaned them out, kicking the neat straw all over,
Ate all of my winter cabbages and nibbled at my sprouts, sat on the compost heap and looked around, Queens of the allotment!
Were brave in the face of danger, survived against the odds,
When poorly, they slept cozily in my basement, and understood when it was time to die,
They may have only been chickens to most, but to me they were my friends,
Always pleased to see me, they needed me, and greeted me loudly every day,
Three lives have been taken, but I will not forget them,
I will look back and smile, and talk kindly of Muriel, Edith and Ethel,
For they were the three hens that taught me that all life is precious, no matter how unnoticeable and small.
Copyright © Fran Slimon | Year Posted 2014
Farewell, then, AUKN boss,
The next this year makes three.
By the time they find a substitute,
Slovenes will be at sea.
He tried to cover his behind;
AUKN boss of bosses,
As every week, balances grew bleak:
He weighed merits and losses.
With all this he'd no time to eat,
And round and round he flew.
And now he's split in a hissy-fit;
So helmsman, too-de-loo!
Day after day, day after day,
He drifted on the ocean;
Guano-vernment rained on his ship
Their suggestions for promotion.
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Corporate boards crosslink;
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Let's take you for a drink.
Accountants talking rot: O Christ!
Missions, visions - oh please!
Yea, slimy characters need legs
And slimy policies.
So has he done an hellish thing?
Not hired who? We dunno:
Was it absurd, to have a separate curd
From the whey Slovenia owes?
This wretch won't play, after 60 days;
Pissflaps, he'll have to go!
God help ya, gospod Bencina
From the fiends, that plague us thus! -
It's time to go — shot like cross-bow,
The AUKN boss.
Ah! walk-out day! what evil looks
Had I from Ernst and Young!
Who's at a loss? AUKN's boss
Wouldn't take a bung?
"You'll be" quoth one, "abolished - no
Stigma to double-cross."
He chose to go - why? We don't know:
Harmless AUKN boss.
Re-reading the original gave me a great idea for dinner until I realised all the storks have all flapped off to Africa for the winter. Pity, as I have some ancient marinade from Tuš. Like the subject of the poem, I didn't have the stamina for a Coleridge-length effort.
The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand interprets important Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world. www.maria.si
Copyright © Julian Bohan | Year Posted 2013
The day I chose you
Compared to all the others
I saw the uniqueness of your colors
Looking back when you flew away
Broke my heart in pieces and stole all peace in living
When you were found my heart raced fast
I was beyond grateful that you came back
We moved forward and life was good
Until one day when you seemed strange
I saw you bleeding out in pain
Then news struck that you were sick
and surgery would bring an unknown risk
The vet said there was a slim chance
Like the usual medical script
Uncertain and scared I couldn't bare
To hear the panting from your chest
All from too big an egg
You couldn’t lay in your nest
Your appetite was lost and I was at a loss
I cupped you in my hands
Warm and unharmed
You were like snow melting away
Drifting from my heart
A change of season
There was a reason
For this lesson to be learned
You held on for the holidays to make our last memories
When the day of your dying came
It sure left me crying
But I know that you are...still flying
Copyright © Mango Lux | Year Posted 2016
Let me go
show me out the door with kind words
I want you to Love me ..
not punish by Force
My Prison, my warden
Let me go
My choice to be Free
Free of suppression, of my own creativity
let me decide for myself
Let me go
let go of me gracefully
I belong to myself , children and God
Let me go , let go of me
I am free
to choose to love and give
I am Free
from what burdens me
now I am Free
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
Don't watch my footsteps disappear
in search of ephemeral rocks to anchor
But wait with me to gather spirits
so I won't be afraid of Sunsets...
When orange melts away in darkness
Just stay with me until it's over
Caress my stranded fins with Dawn
Please do Not cry..I will be... Home...
(author of "f Lava of My Soul")
Copyright © iolanda Scripca | Year Posted 2014
His breathing was labored.
And his body was asleep.
But his mind was awake,
And he was trapped in his body.
The car purred under my feet.
She asked me if I knew about eagles,
And I said yes.
She told me there was two things an Eagle could do,
When it was in pain,
Break off its beak and rip its wings,
And hope to live,
My breath is blurring the window.
My heart aches.
She tells me we need to let him fly.
His life was in a constant free fall.
From the moment he was born,
He was doomed to be the man,
Raised without a father,
Who would make his children wish,
They didn't have a father as well.
He was never flying.
And we had to let him crash.
Copyright © Sam Villegas | Year Posted 2015
The vague patrolling recollection
sits like a fat white swan on her nest,
cuddling the unborn nakedness, fragile, soundless!
He caresses her wings,
she beats them frantically
as his cold old lips meshes and folds.
Dragging, he goes, she crackles
to the red-stained woods, painted
lovingly with millions that entered before.
His touch blackens and grips
She feeds on youths she hid in her thoughts,
Their time winding down, seconds after seconds.
And with the rage of Moses’s staff,
the loud shed quivers and her incantation feathered gown
sweeps in the red wind. Done, revelation!
The decapitated fowl runs in the eye of a God.
The red man ascends like Lazarus
coming, coming for the next victim of his plague.
Inside my coldness, I feel warmness,
I feel restfulness, I am papery and ready
for his touch of death. Thanks giving to clouds.
Copyright © Marcus Bailey | Year Posted 2016
Goodbyes are recollections of the dew
Of warmth that melted throughout the cool night
The blooming rose poems gifted by you
Stay mingled in waving palms still in sight
Yes, we meet to depart and say good bye
Our surge of kisses are momentary
Your dimple in fact is a butterfly
Flowers you gave me are now nights starry
Go river go to your destined ocean
Fly bird fly the sky is there to take you
Brief too brief is our intimate session
Look how quick runs out all our time in hue
Hugs and cuddles in the splash of ocean
Light pales in the flight of the pelicans
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016
Isn't it strange?
That death can clip away the canary?
One might cease to wonder!
Death, why thou smile?
Only of transformation,
Have you perfected!
But can the memoirs be cast away?
All birds know its beauty,
All Lords know its strength!
Strength in making many miss,
Sorrow, fear, yet, a forlorn look.
Who shall sound the note?
Who shall say more of the canary than its deeds!
Canary's wings; now a sight of old,
Canary's voice; a slight hammer when remembered.
Tell tales of the canary,
She has only changed it form!
Eagles and its hosts, pay tributes
Bravehearts smile aside your lay,
Strong ones share your tales,
For death; rejoiceth,
Knowing not, a transformation done!
I fear not for transformation,
I fear not for th cold wings of sly
While I cease not to ponder,
Like men of days,
Death; be not proud, yet,
An indispensable ally.
Copyright © Babafemi Yinka Olubodun | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
It doesn't matter,
We were never friends.
Steel heart don't shatter,
All good things must end.
Sure gonna miss you,
The ecstasy in your touch,
I'll find others to get me through,
Maybe learn love exist or such.
Fly away raven,
Don't dare look down on me,
Your lust it felt like Heaven,
Feathers blackened by misery.
It doesn't matter,
We weren't ever friends,
Your steel heart can't shatter,
all good things must end.
Copyright © yu nough mi | Year Posted 2015
Our Windstar Rides into the Sunset
I just sold my Windstar Cargo van
She was just driven off, by some other man.
I bought the old girl in April 2005
Every day since then, she’d been my ride.
She started out fine with nary a scratch.
For a handy vehicle, she’d be hard to match.
She had shelving in back and one extra seat.
A sliding side door, a huge hatch you can’t beat.
I would fill her with bird seed or corn might abound.
No matter the load, she never let me down.
With her new signage, she looked just first rate.
You might say if you knew us, we appeared on a date.
For almost daily, we’d back down the drive.
To go fill some feeders so those wild birds could thrive.
We went in all weather, birds need fed every day.
For our regular customers, there was no other way.
For they were elderly or shut-ins with a passion to please.
They counted on us to deliver, or their birdies might freeze.
With her front wheel drive, a good battery and snow-tired.
We never failed to get there before cold birds expired.
But then came the end of our long birdseed run.
We called it quits, it was no longer fun.
Those feed bags for me were as heavy as lead.
After 2007 someone else would need get them fed.
That wasn’t the end of old Windstar or me.
We still went together an old friend oft to see.
For there was still an acreage that needed our care.
Rides to Menard’s shopping and lunches to share.
A couple times a week for the next 7 yrs.
We three worked together thru laughter and tears.
There are so many things need work on a farm.
So much to be done to keep animals from harm.
So many wild turkeys and deer that need fed.
Raccoons you can’t count and woodchuck’s deep red.
Of course feral cats got our special attention
The mowing of grass I should also now mention.
Well it seems that I’ve strayed from the van in my story.
But before we now leave I must mention her glory.
That were the 4 signs she carried with pride.
Which told much of the old guy, the driver inside.
There were 3 bible quotes and some patriot’s plea.
Some words of advice always given out free.
To anyone that might comment or share a sly grin.
It they seemed out of touch we’d ask where they’d been.
For America to be Blessed as so many would like.
We need to get back to Jesus or just may take a hike.
For without Him in our midst, our country is lost,
We may soon learn that, no matter who’s “Boss”.
Written by oldbuck, Dec. 7, after selling his van.
Bucks 4 Birds – Wildlife Catering Service 1994-2007
Copyright © Old buck | Year Posted 2016