Unwanted Bird

Poet's Notes

(Show)

Become a Premium Member and post notes and photos about your poem like Ann Foster.

Unwanted Bird Green… feathers on white. Yellow butterflies, everyone sees them. I can not explain what happened. He hit me. Not once, but repeatedly. What color was the car? No there was no vehicle. He used a bat, and a hammer mostly. What are you doing? “Taking out your heart.” I should not have asked. The words hurt my ears, and there were more feathers, everywhere. These were red and blue. “Can someone come and get you?” The man kept moving his lips, but said nothing I could hear, under the umbrella. Do you think I will still be able to chew, without teeth? The pain is gone. They put something in the mix. A very large gorilla came in and took my shoes. I want them back, they are not expensive, but, they are also… all that I have. They cut up my clothes, and he returned them to me…in a bag. “What was I supposed to say?” My other things are just gone. No one saw anyone take them. There were people talking and then, nothing. I am sorry. I am sad. I am quiet. Is death silent?

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

Richard Lamoureux

Date: 8/21/2019 10:18:00 AM

You as well.

Ann Foster
Date: 8/21/2019 10:52:00 AM

:) Ann

Arturo Michael

Date: 8/21/2019 9:48:00 AM

Pain over pain...I doubt death is silent... maybe to the living...You said many thing here...

Ann Foster
Date: 8/21/2019 10:09:00 AM

Most are not even written. Thank you my fellow poet. Your kind comments give me fuel to move through the day...happy... Ann

Richard Lamoureux

Date: 8/21/2019 9:32:00 AM

You write of sad things in such a pretty way.

Ann Foster
Date: 8/21/2019 10:08:00 AM

:) Because I still have hope. They could not take that, as they could not take HIM from my heart. Have the nicest day. Ann

Swetha Vangaveti

Date: 8/21/2019 6:20:00 AM

A poignant write !!!

Ann Foster
Date: 8/21/2019 8:50:00 AM

Sometimes we want to say things, our voice is missing. Other times our pen is sharp and bits and pieces fall out on to the paper, like shavings from a pencil sharpener, turned and cut too closely. Hugs. Ann

Caren Krutsinger

Date: 8/21/2019 12:49:00 AM

Ann, I cannot explain why but I can explain how. This poem is a favorite because it brought so many feelings into my heart, stomped on them, crushed them, rolled them into a ball and spit them out.

Ann Foster
Date: 8/21/2019 8:48:00 AM

:( Thank you my friend. Writing it did much the same for me... I ... Thank you .... Ann