Best Beaked Poems

The year has finally yawned and turned       
Upon a half-revealed shoulder.
A vibrancy, intrinsic to a reemerging 
Enforcement of the strengthening light, 
In its deliberate and unconcerned      
Way, heightening, with increasing vigour,   ...

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from suffering and pain
that is piped into veins
by the organ-less master
who relentlessly plays

from a congested gutter
of fake themes
hiding in deception
and callous clutter

from distaste of the old
the sick the poor and uninvited

from the self-imposed
silent deaf and short-sighted

I rise
as a bed of plume feathers
carry me gently towards
an...

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Staying on a promontory, I watch,
The wobbling mass of water below.

Before my eyes,
The sea stretches far;
An infinite scroll of chiffon,
Rolling and unrolling
In shades of green and sapphire.
In its sedate hours of brooding silence, 
A calm expanse with feeble waves,
As if seized by an uncanny lassitude,
Lying...

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“Hi Sexy”, I said to 
The giant beaked black emu;
The next thing I recall,
Big yellow beak heading
At me, full speed ahead
And I quickly stepped back.

Stalled claws gripped the ground;
Halting bird staring;
Obsidian eyes
Screamed in confusion;
Rejected big bird emu;

Approached slowly.
I held out seeds,
His feelings hurt;
Still, he ate...

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“Sacred Lakes”



There is magic 
in your shaman bones
stories shaken like strange mojo 
busy under cover of autumn leaves 
turning burnished topaz gold 
idling unrushed roll over

in honeyed slumber

turning back hands
to face a time of 
blushing green 
you are seen 
turning naked face smiling
up towards blue...

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our lady of Guadalupe stands alight in corner air
her gown emerald, cerise, gold
Don Pedro stands afore
glass to glass in an amber glow
Lowry’s beaked bird of uva descent
shadows flicker here, there
on the morrow lies the tropical carnage
the insect floor, the frogs call all night
offshore the everlasting...

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Death shadows, furious, frenzied, fought
Waiting for this wretched soul to rot
They redeemed me, tortured me, ceasing not 

Crows perch upon my severed breast
Picking at the insipid flesh 
Vultures of glee coo and ratify my rest

Love pierces my heart that is dead
Maddening my severed head
Feeding ones...

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"Keynote"



"hand me your keys," 

she says smiling coolly
into his breeze

throwing getaway notes
out the window 

the sharp beaked blackbirds
flee scurrilously 

back where they belong
in the past, 

broken behind 
their token barriers

Heckle 'n Jeckle
Comic strip characters 

yapping their disappointment 
on a telephone line

singin' as always 
their sad...

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Inspired by Jan Allison:
~~~~~~
HAIKU
oft my morning call... 
birds in the warmer months... sing... 
my natural alarm... 

your haiku on my shoulder... 
your blackbird... softly chirps... 
morning... 

SENRYU
inspirational... 
your poetic prowess... 
many thank yous'...

HAIKU
orange beaked blackbird...
 dawns equivalent nightingale
 sing on Jenny wren 
 
SENRYU
inspirational
a haiku...

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Gradually the crystalizing dawn -- more hardened  
    Than folded steel --- more sharper than 
  The blade that cuts! 
   Wisps of thin vapour, once loitering insidiously 
 At the steps of each staunch door,
Swirling away --...

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I know of a river of more than average 
Sorts...
Meandering, when not dallying to maunder,
Between many differing contours 
And unruly contorts;
Where a privileged youth once
Happily sought -
Pursuing about his passions
In the traditional methods 
By which his better elders
Did most insist he was thereby taught.
Reinforced throughout...

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That one lost their tongue
somewhere along the way
long ago, the sound,
doesn’t come out the same
anymore, so they roll it up 
like a carpet containing 
a nakedly dead body
of blunt words 
like unplucked violins
untuned to how it all 
really works 
begging to be heard,
and the flowery...

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“The Apocrypha of Familiars” 

Wings hover 
light luminescent
revelling sprites dark pearls
Corvidae shades
of a family 

highly functioning
dysfunctional plural
morphing unobserved
perceived non-unique 
spiralling into shape

more black and grey
than white spills 
from their eyes
light from their shining 
hidden away

intelligence 
sharp beaked 
tapping codes, 
self-aware, they recognise 
themselves 

cloaked 
and...

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“The Penelope Squad”



A line of bluebirds 
tittering on a line
swaying on the winds
like comedian pageboys 
having a good time
poop in the peg bucket
words wooden and sharp
fly off with frosty notes
dirt and sherry stains
imprinted on 
Penelope’s clean sheets
a bunch of girl’s blouses
touching up waiving skirts

The Kingfisher
ruffles...

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Who keeps the sharp-beaked, soaring gull
on its long journey south?
And who the wide-winged pelican
afloat now on the froth?

What hands shape water's flowing course
where thirsts are quenched and healed?
What eye leads through full darkness when
all weakness is revealed?

What shoulders bear the driven wind
or freezing rain and...

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