Sitting in a corner,
My wings still rest beside me.
The gate stands open—
I just don't remember
how to fly.
I used to chase the breeze
And loved to hum every rhyme
I remember every wild ride
The storms that broke my stride
Nonetheless,I got up again for a new flight
The bruises on my wings are far less,
And my own mind
Still pecks at every feather.
The dark horizon is gathering shadows
The dark horizon is gathering shadows.
All the vanishing wings,
And here I am—
Marooned away
Will I learn to fly one day,
Or stay caged away?
The night rain cooled the following day, making it feel like winter. Climate change continues to wreck the weather, and spring days bloom in winter. Earthworm carcasses rot in drying puddles. Freshly cut grass soaks the air and drowns the lungs. A murder of crows pecks at the bloated insect bodies floating atop the grass. Their joyous caws echo across the overcast sky. The feathers on their swollen bellies gleam from my car's headlights.
"I'll have the 3-piece chicken strip combo with hot sauce, and a medium Cherry Coke." A crow waits below the drive-thru window.
"Here's your order." Medium Cherry Coke crosses the facing windows. "Than—" The crow strikes the brown bag and spills the order on the floor.
"Please pull around to the front, and I'll redo your order." The crow's laughter reaches the front of the building and follows the fast-food server back inside.
chicken pecks kernel
as I peck photo button
in same pattern
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crow pecks at the moon's reflection~
a hunger older than the river.
Night folds itself into origami,
while the stars whisper
in braille.
In the swollen wait,
sprouting in the late summer dawn,
naive longing meets,
unaware of the pride of scorching heat,
in the sleeping embrace
of the confluence of two rivers.
Facing the sharp heat,
like the tip of a rapidly growing bamboo shoot,
the hungry wind howls,
sharp as a mother wolf's call,
bringing forth the clouds that gather
to drive away the oppressive warmth.
An accidental meeting,
caught in the mischief of midsummer,
unable to exchange even a fleeting glance,
unraveling like an old straw sandal
in the dream of the aged river.
The solitary eagle sharpens its beak with a sigh,
unceasingly drawing in the scent of its lost mate,
as it fiercely pecks
at the arrogance of the searing heat.
The raven-black wait
and the vivid blue longing
open their embrace,
climbing onto the crest of the confluence,
they gaze at one another,
finally becoming a tingling wave,
reaching toward each other.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
three knocks at midnight—
ghosts drift, mummies rise, zombies groan…
Run. The moon hides fast.
cold breath on your neck—
just the draft? You turn slowly.
empty coat hook sways
ancient wrappings fray,
a pharaoh's curse in dry dust~
sand fills empty eyes
rotting fingers clutch—
crow pecks at an empty skull...
hunger never sleeps—
Thousands of ants move in a line
like they're driving on a two lane highway
A vulture stares into the distance
while its talons clutch dead remains
It pecks here and there
the carcass jerks
The animal may still have life
The vulture does not care
Shadows dance across the ground
More vultures are on their way
As they land they scan the area
They are not worried about feelings
They peck
and peck
The animal is beyond dead
yet the vultures cackles grow louder
They have taken all the life from that animal
and still they want more.
Woody Woodpecker happily pecks in his tree-house decent,
mean landlady Meany evicts him, for he doesn’t pay the rent.
So, he plans his antics, stops real estate to sprawl in his forest,
tricks Lance, the harassed lawyer, to gift him a new tree-nest.
A woodpecker pecks wood,
as she surely should -
but should we allow her,
at this ungodly hour?
**A Bird in the Hand**
From my childhood, I cherish the sweet memory of holding a sparrow in my hands. Its heart raced wildly, igniting my curiosity. Gazing into its small, beady eyes, I couldn't help but smile as it chirped and whined, pleading for freedom.
Yet, in its desperation, it bit down on my thumb, yearning to escape and explore the world. The realization struck me hard.
“Yay! You better let that bird go before it pecks your nose,” warned Nana.
That day marked a turning point; I gently released the little bird, whispering, “Up, up, and away, dear friend. I truly apologize.”
In that moment, I learned the importance of compassion and letting go.
I think that if I could have wearable tech
it might be a vest that inflates in a wreck.
Perhaps a decoder of lyrics by Beck,
or one that converts between gallons and pecks?
Or lets me run wild in the ship’s holodeck.
But I am afraid if I am circumspect,
it is I that this tech likely tries to inspect,
to direct my actions, make me genuflect.
Big brother, who watches, with powers unchecked!
So with due politeness and all due respect,
This wearable tech is a watch I reject.
It comes for me, too.
No matter where we are
in the turning of the seasons,
I will no longer try
to hide from the bird.
Because it pecks
at the edge of winter,
this world is overfull
with the force of life.
It is because
the bird comes
that the seasons
are beautiful.
It is because
the bird has come
that flowers bloom.
Let it ride the wind—
there is no need to resist.
The bird
is already on its way.
The crocodile smile is such a pretty sight
as the Egyptian Plover keeps his teeth
pearly white and shiny bright
"Open wide," are words heard from the bird
his dental hygienist who picks and pecks
then eats the meaty spicks and specks
and as the crocodile sheds old choppers
(no tears)
so the avian's not unemployed or at a loss
the croc constantly grows new gnashers
for his new-found feathered friend to floss
flirting with my friend
so lovely and radiant in the sun is she
her smile inspires my smile
Mom's Watchful Eye from Heaven keeps me respectful
my strong belief in being faithful keeps me smart and grounded
as we say our goodbyes, we say Sincerity Prayers for each other
she gives me a meaningful slap on my left arm, which makes Mom smile in Heaven
a female dove with a watchful eye lands on my left shoulder out of nowhere and pecks me repeatedly on my forehead
my friend, who i playfully flirted with, begins laughing uncontrollably
she then says, 'uh huh, that's what your flirting behind gets'
i reply by saying 'WHAT ABOUT YOU?!?'
you answer by saying 'you have a Precious Blessing Beyond Worthy of Counting'
i wave a final goodbye with a rare smile and simply say 'Yes Mom'
Between the blades of dewy grass
Mingle the particles of fresh dust
Their colour bleached to grey.
A bird descends and pecks for food,
Finding nothing it ascends today
Climbs higher than the trees, away.
Weeks go by without a soul
Tending the ever growing grass.
I chose that tranquil spot
For them to be blended in the soil
That many years before received
The bleached grey dust of her lover.
The years will effectively combine
Them in the soils embrace and then
She will be lost, untraceable,
Indistinguishable, shall become one.
My parent's will be done.
© Allen Ansell 2025
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