The Blackbird and the Beetles

Maybe I’ve had my share of freedom
Said the blackbird to the sky
To each his own pale misery
The sullen night replied
Then take my wings, now golden chains
The once proud blackbird cried
Burst forth the sun with wings of flame
And through the night took flight
And in this way for all a day
The once proud blackbird dies

The hopeful stars looked down in quiet sympathy
Their silver song no match for jewel bright tyranny
Night blocked out by light is an easy eulogy
The glimmer lights of pinprick stars
Dead to gloryless featherby

The wingless blackbird then commenced
With doing earthly things
Like beetles do when blinded
By their own bright shiny wings
When in hopeless resignation
The clever bird did sing

And like all birds in cages
Though voiced less so proficient
The rogue bird’s beak was sharpened
By flightless indignation
And then the beetles saw what
Was kept for sheer omission
That all birds’ beaks are sharper
Than a beetle’s indecision


Street Diving

Has anyone else ever been dive bombed by a spastic bird? Happens to me all the time Ah, the joys of Spring.

Bird Poem 3 (This is hot off the presses. Fresh, fresh, fresher than anything else I've posted recently.):

Road divers that dip
Flapping down in spastic
Frantic hilarity of feathers
From tight ropes strung above like
Seating for the audience to the show
Laughing in chirpy song
To the rhythmic beat of practical jokers
In the fresh born sun to tread
Dangerously before great beasts
These small, affectionate miscreants
With their shrill, cackling dance



Hey there, all. Spring is here but not with golden lilies with delicate frilled petals, not with robin's eggs blue like the sky. Spring here has come in a torrential downpour, a grand entrance of gusty air and slamming water. That which has always approached subtle and soft, like pastel marshmallow rabbits, now cries and sobs a tantrum in greeting.
And I say, hello spring, I'm much happier to meet you than last year.

Bird Poem 2:
(I swear it really was bird inspired. It actually went along with yesterday's poem originally.)

This sea of masks it teems
His sacrifice it seems
Not deep enough to feel
Beneath the skin
Imprisoned and in pain
By the stain of the refrain
Sing circular rhythm of a sin
Still dropping from the flight
In following with the fight
the broken wings creating spin
In the end of it he stays
In waiting for the day
In which the ending begs to begin


Welcome, Spring

It's been a while. I'm happy. Such a simple phrase, and yet so hard to make true. Today isn't the day to bore with my story, but here's the beginning of a series of bird related poems to welcome in the robin's spring.

They're really different then usual; I was trying to rhyme.

Catch a falling robin
In a net of contrived tears
And place it in a cage
of displaced hearts
then catch a falling lark
and put it in a locket
to beat away the years
beside your heart
catch a falling jay
control it ‘til tomorrow
a warbled lie
to never fall apart
and catch a falling crow
imprisoned with a smile
until the grayest day
to stay the start