Feel it sweep, feel it scurry? A poem…yes, sir, no doubt, a poem!
– Ray Bradbury, Any Friend of Nicholas Nickleby’s Is a Friend of Mine
Feel it creep,
crawl along, slow
on its haunches, un
-hurried, flowed from
vein and strained to
Feel it leap,
flit, flail, fly on broken
Feel it limp,
we let it live at all,
fall farther than we think
we can ever bow.
How do we make peace
with these phrases, these
black-clacked phases of our
other selves? Kill the quill
and keep the feathered things,
hold the muse at bay
until she sings.
I’m utterly amazed by the very similar page that we’re on today, De!!
I love this for lots of reasons…the featheredness speaks to my soul.
I saw a new bid today in the year…a Gray Catbird…so stunning.
♥ to you
a new *bird 😉
Wow, umm I must be tired…that was to be in the *yard…okay that is all.
This is a wonderful poem, De. I just love it.
LOVE this! Especially that last stanza — perfect, De!
Hold the muse at bay/until she she sings. Absolutely perfect 🙂
we let it live at all” – I know much of the world feels this way. In my opinion, you bring these feathered things to earth and make them real. I know that as far as poetry goes, I have mixed feelings. I feel a lot of it is hard to understand and grasp and I feel unintelligent trying to do so. However, what I consider true poetry is that which touches the soul no matter who you are. Which is what I think you aim for. And most of the poetry I enjoy falls into this category. Have you read Kay Ryan? I found a book of her poetry in the library a while back. That is real poetry to me. Anyway, “black-clacked phases / of our other selves” loved that description.
Please keep making the peace for the enjoyment of all your readers!
Love this line: “flit, flail, fly on broken”
And this: “phrases, these black-clacked phases”