Best Golden Oriole Poems

Martin came to a cleft in the rocks
The oriole must have gone this way
It was narrow and curving
A sudden turn, and everything seemed to change.
Shrill, reedy music of pipes filled the heavy air,
A smell of musk of goats and their dung. 
Invisible cicadas sustained the...

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On his twenty-fifth birthday, elated 
He decided to go hunting.
He let the fresh air of the early morning
On the slope of a wooded hill, fill his lungs.
A small vale stretched beneath him, 
Whilst behind the trees rose a small sheer cliff. 

That was where he...

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