the baby blackbird sits bewildered
in a teacup trimmed with gold,
soft roses gathered around its small, shaken body.
a silver spoon lies in the leaves,
as if some trembling kindness wandered through
and let a frightened scrap of sky drop into porcelain~
a moment so slight, the world almost forgot
how fragile mercy can be.
¦¦¦¦ a song ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ full of rye;
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Baked in a pie!
¦¦¦¦ the pie ¦¦¦ opened
¦¦¦ birds began to sing;
Was not ¦¦¦¦ a dainty dish
¦¦¦ set before the king?
The king ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Counting out his money;
The queen was ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Eating bread and honey.
The maid ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Hanging out the clothes;
¦¦¦¦ down came a blackbird
¦¦¦ snapped off her nose.
(Blackout of Sing A Song Of Sixpence by Mother Goose)
Lying by the window pane
Staring at the Great Unsaid
Watch the evening fall again
Too serene, couldn’t I instead
Read a book of highest thought
That would move me back and forth
Over the old Moon I’d float
Going home to sinful earth
Then I’d tell you how it went
All your questions be replied
Lots of photos I would send
You shall keep them well archived
But with sorrow my heart’s fraught
There’s no exit from this stage
By the Great Unsaid I’m caught
Like a blackbird in the cage.
blackbird blackbird fly away
into the sky you softly fade
blackbird blackbird why can't I
sprout my wings and with you fly
bluebird bluebird for morning sings
as if a song the day light brings
bluebird bluebird makes me smile
enjoy your songs all the while
redbird redbird your feathers bleed
ruby crimson they dazzle me
redbird redbird beautiful soul
glimmering in the Sun's gold
white bird white bird in dead of night
your feathers glow like the star light
white bird white bird your eyes know
my spirit rising or falling below.
The Blackbird
Look out the window
Blackbird he's looking at me
With those big begging eyes
Come, fed me please
Out comes some birdseed
I scatter on the ground
Zoom he flies for some
Pecking, pecking as fast as he can
Before another one here's his sounds
Comes to fight for some.
Here comes two robins
To join in the fun
A loved one from heaven
Must be thinking of me
I sense that with every robin I see.
By Scottydotti
17/03/2026
A blackbird flies before the moon,
A life shall pass away;
A death, a bird,
Together stirred,
Fused in a lunar ray;
The wings of a fate falling soon.
I felt like it was coming,
not through buds breaking open,
but through a softness in the air,
like a soft napkin
forgotten on the chest
of an old icon.
No one announced it
not the wind,
not the birds,
not the old woman at the corner window,
threading her days together
with a broken needle.
This spring has no footsteps,
no voice,
only the faint scent of resin
and something holy
that’s already turned to ash.
I asked my mother
if God still has seasons.
She looked at me,
then at a flower in the window
that hasn’t bloomed in years.
“I think He lost them,” she said,
“or keeps them locked inside,
like letters
He can’t bring Himself to open.”
And I understood:
not all springs bring life.
Some arrive
only to teach us
how to stay alive
without shining,
how to die
without vanishing.
A blackbird watched me
with the eyes of a child
who once saw too much light
and now
fears the sun.
And I said nothing,
like a prophet without a mountain,
carrying a single line
pressed against my ribs:
It won’t be long
before the grass
learns how to sing
about us.
What is that, 'midst gray silhouette
A night-winged creature slips, beset?
Fluttering through pampas and ground
Mellow the dulcet trails of sound
O blackbird, my breaths awaken
By soft chimes...this angst forsaken
Glimmering 'neath still of moonlight ,
I find peace in warlber's hymned flight !
a sure sign of spring
red stripes like glowing ensigns
the male marks his tree
Pure Gold rings
Around pearly black eyes ~
The iridescent Blackbird stands still.
Nesting material locked in beak ~
The colour matching her
Pure Gold rings.
Reflections stare back
Of myself and the scene
Around pearly black eyes.
Amazed, I observe
This beautiful creature ~
The iridescent Blackbird stands still.
Yesterday, my brain-space was so null,
It couldn’t have been nuller.
To think, today, I learned so much
From a bird devoid of color!
The blackbird wants to sing a song.
What song?
A song of freedom
But its fragile beak is tied.
The blackbird lives on the Island.
Where the Aubrey's tongue
Is tonged with coal.
And black veil worn upon her head.
When she chirps, it's unheard.
When she spittle, it's waveless.
She's chained to the bottomless pit.
With flashes of lashes on her feet.
She sounds the horn to be free.
From the yolk of her black veil.
The lyre to be who and what she's
And not what the sky paints her hues.
The blackbirds ask.
Is the black veil not worse?
To barrage of bullets
Or hail and brimstone.
Is it not a totem of submission?
Under the guise of religion
Stamp of chauvinism and bigotry.
Or forged as a tool for Eros?
Iran, the blackbird's drum is gyring.
But the eagle's ear is deaf.
The mountain smoke is searing.
But the hyena cannot perceive.
Birds do ballet out there on the grass.
Gulls have come in from the sea.
Blackbirds are always here, and so are crows,
with jackdaws, too, and magpies.
A silent ballet, nothing to hear
within this small apartment,
but you can hear a ballet through your eyes
as these birds poke and peck -
a hop here and a walk there.
(22 Aug 2023)
In the backyard seen
A black squirrel running
The blackbird chasing
A small black squirrel
The blackbird hungry
It is trying to steal
Some of the eggs laid
Blackbird is on guard
Protecting the eggs
The nest on the fur trees
The squirrel no longer
Are fed the peanuts
Now that it is Spring
They must fend for themselves
Blackbird singing in a redbud tree,
Why such a sad and mournful ditty?
I like your song, but, oh, tell me
Is it meant to please or pity?
Little brook babbling to a willow tree
Of where he's been and where he's bound for.
He tells his tales so joyfully,
But willow's he can't stick around for.
When romance dies what's left of love?
A heart that's filled with pain and sorrow.
And all that lingering ache will prove,
Love's here today and gone tomorrow.
Bird moves on to another tree,
Willow bids the brook good-by now.
Does misery crave company,
Or shall I sit alone and cry now?
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