<br />
Too Heavy to Lift, Too Hard to Break<br />
At every dawn and every
dusk I feed the birds
small bits of bread.
They know me now
and call me out in
lilting, jagged tones.
The crows grow fat,
the starlings sleek,
and the dun/grey doves now
mourn for me.
Come some dawn or maybe
dusk, I'll fool the birds, and scatter
instead, dry as bread, dead pieces of me.
And in their gullets and in their guts
I'll finally defy the gravity of this lower world;
I'll fly in a flock of borrowed wings, into
the vaulting sky.
There, left behind, in the bright, bright grass,
a dirt stained stone:
my heart.
SEACowles
SEA-
Cool stuff. Right up my alley, anyway. I'm no technician, so I won't comment on some of the irregularities. (I wouldn't know what to say anyway!)
So, welcome to the forum. Don't let the critics put you off. What do they know?
Post more.
Jack
i liked this one
SEACowles, Welcome to Emule. Enjoyed the poem. I guess we all fly in our own way. jhs
How very sad---------Ell
I can see why this might be your favorite, it's very poignant. Perhaps one day you'll be able to say 'my heart is like a singing bird' Hope so.
JP
A very unique way of looking at heaven!
For whatever reason this made me think of these lines from an old song called
"White Bird" by a group named "It's a Beautiful Day".
The sunsets come
The sunsets go
The clouds pile high
The air moves slow
And the young bird's eyes
Do always know
She must fly
She must fly
She must fly
Les