Conventional I'M Not
My steady eyes observe a jay
lodge against the fissure of night
To glide at morn, its rebellious cruise
as plumy wings reach hills and skies, and orbs:
Somehow, I feel each turn of reels
identify with every jaunt where snowdrops’ plunge
into the tempo of avian trill...
a rhapsody
or wild dissent;
if only to see myself
through its audacious grit.
My hands wave now and laugh, I shall,
For jay’s distinctive mark
Reflects my will…this fowl chasing the rays
On its own term. Much like the jay, my heart
Treads unknown paths… conventional, I'm not.
8/15/2019
For Craig Cornish's Something I Am Not Contest
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment