Best Macaw Poems
I am the scarlet parrot from the Amazon,
Intelligent, beautiful, passionate,
Trapped in a cage too small for my wings.
Bored,
With nothing but a pretty bell
To keep me entertained.
Lonely,
With nothing but a mirror
To keep me company.
Hungry,
With nothing but a sprig of millet
To keep me sustained.
Craving fascination.
Craving love.
Craving life.
Blue and gold Macaw,
bright butterscotch belly up,
kicks and squawks excitedly
beneath human hands
which give playful tummy rubs!
(I saw a video of this friendly smart
bird enjoying a rubdown from his owner!)
For the Contest: Blue and Gold
Sponsored by Rick Parise
Ah, Red Macaw, you are the pestilence
of impatience
in my day, soaring far, far overhead
squawking and screaming
your face overheated and red
beak too portentous
for sweets, gobbling and demanding
if ever you stop, but the leaves
have no leavening, you’re all feed
and poop and mar my day.
Even though I seek you out
you escape, Scotch-free,
wearing a tartan of betrayal.
Who you seem to be
righter of words, merely mimics
what experience I bring
with my heart and days. I want to
wear flames, gold, drink juices
that drip from the blues of my mouth.
You wear my head where I have shadow.
You wear my flight, straight and narrow
Branching and diving and soaring.
You wear my hunger for the sweetness
of truth, but follow only my path
Where is yours? Where is your course?
Of course. Your caw, screams
Why don’t you speak your own language
Know your own. Your home.
Instead of mine.
somewhere out there
a basset hound lives in the same house as a
macaw.
the gorgeous tropical bird,
bearing its staggeringly spectacular array of
intensely prepossessing &
polychromasiac
hues,
dominant in the household as an exotic
spectacle
whose mere presence in a non-tropical environment
pulls in the curious onlooker.
it stands upon its little
perch,
staring down at the hound---
the perpetually sad looking,
perfect model of evolution
(wherein the imperfections of natural selection can be seen in its
extremely long ears that touch the ground, its stubby legs that are far too
short for its body, etc.---one can make the argument that the poor basset hound
has not been fortunate to lose such ridiculous traits as of yet),
stands almost teary eyed
with its neck bent at an angle,
looking straight up in the direction of the macaw
its feeble attempt is noticed by the majestic bird.
cawing down at the hound,
the bird baffles---
the hound,
whose name is derived from the french adjective for
“rather low,”
ponders the bird’s exchange,
wondering if it is ridiculing &
taunting it for being such a sort of, um,
mistake---
it spends little time deciding &
barks back at the bird in its bellowing manner.
in the already unnatural cage the human owners of these two
creatures,
a new animal kingdom of two has arisen---
the hounds knows not what to make of this bright colored bird &
the bird,
rather unaffected by the odd character
way
down
there
below,
seems to enjoy the pandering back & forth,
as if in a conversation
where the both of them are understanding mutually the exchange that is
occurring.
and while the insanity of the macaw & the hound persists
(the hound bellowing & the macaw trying to mimic the bellow in an
effort to see how the hound’s day is going),
these two animals come to a consensus
that together in such a situation
they are both equally out of their element &
a new bond is formed,
an allegiance, if you will,
wherein psittacidae & canidae
have found common ground---
resist these humans at all costs.
The white macaw thought he was the ruler of the land.
And he was until the day they were overrun by a Mariachi band.
The arrogant pushy female lead singer declared herself queen.
The cats were easily swayed with kibble, did not think her mean.
The white macaw thought of flying off to a foreign place.
But his new suit was not ready, it was to be trimmed with lace.
When it is all stitched up, I shall be ready to go, he declared to all.
It was never finished, for his seamstress grandma knew how to stall.
I was walking into a garden
That resembles the Eden.
With flowers and fruits
hanging by the grooves.
I looked to my right,
a pond with ducks hanging by the side.
They wiggled around their huts,
eating fish and sitting in the mud.
I walked toward a gate,
decorated with birds on stage.
With flowers leaving an alluring fragrance,
I arrived at a cage-like entrance.
A man-made paradise,
with swans in black and white,
Swimming in the lake with grace and delight.
Walked towards a bridge,
with a waterfall and bright-coloured Koi fish.
I left the cage with awe and grace,
But deep inside I felt a rage.
I marched towards a bewitching cave,
with chains and a net that closed the grave.
Bright and beautiful macaws on flight,
hanging to the dome and crying with might.
A beautiful paradise in sight for the sapiens,
a locked prison for the winged maidens.
They sang a melancholic song,
Living in agony, its grasp so strong.
I left the cage in utter dismay,
a song in my heart left to repay.
The small beaks trying to break,
the iron cage that held their freedom at stake.
I wish to go back again,
To free those wings from the pain.
Yet my hands were tied,
Just like caged wings, my soul died.