Into the mist,
swallows vanish—
distant skies.
Each May, the month of Mary, I believe?
To stables gables, wondrous nests to weave.
20 years espial by precious broods,
Amidst the beasts of burden,
yet unmoved.
Alas, the chestnut lad is here no more,
His brave old heart, no longer to endure!
My only solace now, a sweet refrain
Assuredly, to know he has no pain
With deep regret I’m suddenly aware
No Summers with swallows, hereafter,
shall we share.
iridescent wings
along with orange bellies . . .
sky sweepers soaring
the sharp warning cry
when a nest of birds I spy . . .
barn swallows dive-bomb
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sun-dappled wings dart
swallows stitch the April sky
with threads of dawn's light.
Their shadows dance on warm stone,
writing spring in swift cursive.
searching the sky
for a hint of blue
and a swallow or two
You never know what
you will discover when you decide
to go on a walk.
There are times when birds,
such as swallows will cross
your path, and offer you a sense
of freedom and liberation
Giving you grace-
in a world where it's hard to come by
Itis okay to sit and reflect,
you do not have to go at a fast pace,
you can look wherever you want to look,
as long as it doesn't cause anyone harm
Watch them gently touch the water,
and fly to the sky.
This should remind you,
that you are safe.
~ The Snake that Swallows Giraffes ~
When writing about irrelevance
titles should contain elephants
~ Elephants – ELEPHANTS – that Could Not Squash Mice ~
To small rodents, pachyderms are exceptionally nice
which earns them a spot in the title twice
swallows'
cobalt blue glistens
as they dart catching insects
at dawn against foggy creek rise
freedom to be alive
The swallows fly too low
The rain is soon to fall
This time, when time goes slow
I’m waiting for your call
And I can wait as long
As my days will come and go
And I don’t think it’s wrong
Though maybe I don’t know
Which fairytale to read
What character to choose
I’m blooming from a seed
You watered with your hose
Don’t take me as a weed
Don’t plough me out of here
Look at the bumblebees I feed
I hope you like them, dear…
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 prose,
purple and bruised
like over-ripe fruit
teeth rottingly sugary sweet,
is now seen
day-in-and-night-out,
struggling with ease
way too much
like madness overgrown,
the dense overgrowth
of language unspoke
hides glittering gems
blushing shamefully
more exquisite than
the now daily averies
all penned in babel
that flow in glass jarring
anticipated patterns
of suffocating
paisley prose,
the simple beauty
in the plainly spoke,
never again
to be seen nor heard,
the mercurial metaphors
birdfeed scattered
to the begging migrations
of petulant bluebirds
naughty nightingales
honey trapping
wet-beaked hummingbirds
all beating hearts
with their wild wind flapping,
tossing sticks and stones
to those tongue thirsty
kiss lapping, lap dancing
love parched, gargling
swallows
Candide Diderot. ‘24
as love swallows hate
folks of different colours
smile, & Angels clap hands
August 28/2023
I hear serenading songs of summer swallows
and ruffling feathers of roosting starlings.
I catch the sweet scent of heirloom roses
that have not yet budded upon the bush.
All these things I know have been given to me
as surely as I see you standing before my eyes.
Like a bevy of swallows released from a fountain
the pageantry of a balloon race set in the mountains
A throng of graduates hurling blue caps in the air
~ so, too, passion's first kiss in a fairy-tale affair
Challenge the Oh wrath of day;
Corner light brilliancy to swallow the dark;
All I see, never be;
This the distance height of the day sunlight;
Swallows up the darkness whole;
the nights no more the night is gone away;
Sparrows and Robins nestled in branches as they sway;
Day light burst shallows up the night;
6/20/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
swallows' offspring
leave their nest soaring . . .
sky is a playground
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