Faith Bird
By Mark D. Stucky
“Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.” -- Rabindranath Tagore
Faith bird, please sing to me!
Stream music in my heart!
For the night is long,
and I need your song.
Faith bird, please help my doubt
about your promised dawn.
If you do, I’ll hold on tight
in this deepest, darkest night.
Faith bird, I will cherish you.
I will feed and nourish you
to keep your beautiful feathers bright
and for you to have a healthy life.
Faith bird, I will never cage you.
Freely explore all you can view,
but return and perch near to me
to sing your journey melodies.
Faith bird, sing not only to me.
Sing to others who are in need,
to others who long to feel the light
in the dark and cold of lifelong night.
(See also my poems "Consider the (Dreaming) Birds" and "Purgatorial Perceptions.")
(Image by Alex Wigan on Unsplash.com.)
Categories:
wigan, faith, light, prayer, psychological,
Form: Rhyme
Trinity Street, Bolton,
it was Jack and Jaya’s first date,
Jack had got there early,
worried he’d be late,
the ticket woman said,
to head for platform two,
“you’ll have to get a move on though,
your train is almost due”,
from Moses Gate to Manchester,
the world went flashing by,
factories and football fields,
beneath a clouded sky,
soon the train screeched to a halt,
with much anticipation,
our young couple disembarked,
and left Victoria Station,
Jack and Jaya walked and talked,
round Manchester for hours,
Jack laughed and said that “their town hall,
is not nice as ours!”,
in Piccadilly Gardens,
Jaya groaned at more of his jokes,
whilst they ate cheese pasties,
and shared a can of Coke,
travelling back Jack wondered,
about a kiss on the cheek,
but Jaya simply smiled and said,
“let’s try Wigan next week…”.
Categories:
wigan, funny, teen love, travel,
Form: Rhyme
She slipped into the ballroom
Shimmied across the floor
Bobbed a graceful curtsy
Slid quickly through the door
Leaving some mixed reactions
From all those gathered there
First time they’d seen a tango
With the artiste totally bare
And it’s not the sort of thing
One ever ever expects to be seen
At an Official Civic Reception
For Her Majesty the Queen
And certainly not in Bolton
Not even as a merry jest
Especially when entertaining
Hordes of other Royal Guests
Though some few unkind people
Thought the Duke wanted more
Insisting they heard that personage
Murmuring encore encore encore
The palace issued a strong denial
An apology came from Tony Blair
Seen as rather ridiculous
As he wasn’t even there
The Heir was rather annoyed
Because he hadn’t been invited
On that special day that the
Mysterious woman was sighted
Somewhere up near Wigan
The dancer read her press
Already preparing for her
Next appearance sans any dress
Categories:
wigan, adventure, appreciation, culture, dance,
Form: Rhyme
"Two kinds of people in this world, my friend,"
as that great thinker, Tuco, used to say:
the road to Wigan Pier has reached its end?
We're staying on the road to Mandalay?
The first type jabber of equality
but (humans being humans) there's a throne,
and someone grabs it. "Hence, so shall it be,"
he says. And as So-Shall-ists are they known.
The other lot have hides as tough as shellfish.
They have a ton of chutzpah, but no shame.
To cap it all, they're really rather selfish,
and that's why Cap-It-All-ists is their name.
So, which are you? A nervous-nerd-Ralph-Nader?
Or do you kiss the coccyx of Darth Vader?
Categories:
wigan, satire,
Form: Sonnet
Trying to get out of Manchester
To get back on the M6
During the fun called "rush hour"
Requires all your tools and tricks.
I start on the M61
Four lanes of hotbed frustration
Which lane am I supposed to be in ?
Oh yes, the one with least congestion.
But that just causes problems
Because you have stay in the right lane
Else you end up in Wigan
No good if you want to stay sane.
The truck on my left cuts in
And tries to go faster than me
Do I slow down or accelerate
But there's a fool on the right side of me.
I'm feeling sandwiched in
But then they all slow right down
Then a car cuts in ahead
Wearing the idiots crown.
I listen to the BBC Merseyside
They say traffic is all just fine
I'd hate to see a traffic jam
I'm going gray in my prime !.
The sat nav says 200 miles to go
I see the sign to Leeds
But can't see the white line
The rain makes it hard to see.
After I tough it out
I finally hit the M6
Finally the road back to Scotland
Leaves behind all my tools and tricks.
So if you are ever in Manchester
The city of culture and sport
Where both means the motor ways
Will ensure that you never are bored.
Categories:
wigan, journey, life,
Form: Verse