I was suprised to see Robin
appear at the onset of dawn.
Looked on at my withdrawn self,
tucked on my shelf,
whereupon I return his look.

With his wings, he made a gesture
pointing out, out and beyond to
fields in a vesture of green.
Never I had I seen such pastal pastures,
nor known them to be so near.

Robin started to sing
of spontaneous adventure,
away from my miscellaneous thoughts.
Extraneous in nature for they did discouraged
this possible venture.

In an act of defiance,
I went to move, and felt a strain
tightening around my brain.
Denying the laws of science,
the frightening shackels restraining me
and my plumed heart from taking flight.

I struggled against the chain, I wiggled until bruised
and blood and sweat covered my skin.
The sticky heat of desperation consumes me,
wishing someone smuggled the key in
and remove these chaotic chains.

"I can't move," I cried to Robin,
expecting him to disapprove.
"I'm not like you. I can't just go and do what I want,
it doesn't work like that."

Even though I wanted to go.
My soul longs for it, to be like  the Robin
where its only goal is to go
faraway like a bird of prey, flying high
complying to no one, just like Maslow wanted.
The reclamation of self-realization.

Robin did not reply.
Robin did not leave.
Nor did he grieve for me.
He simply waited.

This wasn't a rue.
He was glued to me and thus
Proving the legends true; of how
he got the mark of Christ's blood upon himself.

For he waited in hope
'til the day when I can cleave the chains
and he'll supply the rope
and reeve the opening of my escape.

But that day is not today.

Today's untimely end neared
with the threat of an upset sunset,
warning Robin that he must retreat
to avoid being a prisioner of the dark.

Yet, before he left, he nodded,
as if tell me not to fret.
For he will be back at sunrise
His wise eyes conformed
him to be sans falseness.

And I prayed to empty skies that I was right.

From my spot, I watch Robin's flight,
as night fell with gravity, pushing the sun down
and for a split second it turned to a green jewel.
I smiled like fool at Joule's "last glimpse"
feeling the chains, ever so slightly, loosen.

My mentor was your friend
He spoke so animatedly of your passion and humor
You were the single light bulb in a closet of clutter
I wish I could've experienced your soul
I was told you were bright and kind like the morning sun
No one knew the dark cloud behind your golden rays
You were my father, though you never knew it
Showing me that father figures always had my best interest
Your shadow hasn't left us
We miss your smile, genuine or not
It hurts me knowing that I'll never get to make you smile back.

The mosquito was ******* my blood
and I let her.

My heart was breaking
and I let her.

828

The Robin is the One
That interrupt the Morn
With hurried—few—express Reports
When March is scarcely on—

The Robin is the One
That overflow the Noon
With her cherubic quantity—
An April but begun—

The Robin is the One
That speechless from her Nest
Submit that Home—and Certainty
And Sanctity, are best

One step forward, three steps back.
The queue shuffles,
visible breath in the winter blue.
The vendor vends,
fingerless gloves clamp the steaming mug.
Grunts and groans alike,
the warmth fills the withered corpses pale.

A gaze is cast,
into the misty nothing that inhabits the park.
A twitter is heard amongst the frosty masts.

Eyes meet with a rufescent-chested bird.

These same eyes are then met with salt,
a sorrow, a pang of jealousy.
A sheer longing for that same freedom.

Robin  Redbreast  one  fine  day.
Hopped  across  the  lawn  to  play.
*****  opened  one  large  eye.
A  juicy  morsel  he  did  spy.
*****  rolled  into  a  ball.
So  Robin  felt  no  fear  at  all.
But  *****  had  some  evil  thoughts.
To  grab  poor  Robin  by  his  coat.
Robin  ventured  very  near.
Right  under  *****'s  nose,  oh  dear.
*****  sprang  up  full  of  glee.
He  wanted  Robin  for  his  tea.
Robin  said:  You'll  not  catch  me.
And  flew  into  the  nearest  tree.
*****  followed  him  in  haste.
And  through  the  branches  he  did  chase.
Robin  opened  up  his  wings.
Tweet,  he  cried,  good  day.
*****  growled  and  spat.
Robin  flew  away.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

ROBIN REDBREAST CAME MY WAY,
HE COCKED HIS HEAD AS THOUGH TO SAY:
'GIVE ME YOUR LIFE, SO LONGER,
I WOULD LIKE TO LIVE LIKE YOU -STRONGER.'

I SAID: 'BUT YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL,
WITH YOUR FLASH OF RED,' SO IT'S SAID
THAT WE ENVY YOU AND THE THINGS YOU DO,
IT WOULDN'T BE THE SAME IF YOUR CHEST WAS BLUE.

PROMISE ME THAT YOU'LL LEAVE ME FOOD,
EVEN IF, EVEN IF YOU'RE IN A BAD MOOD,
YOU'LL NOTICE THAT I SAY SOME THINGS TWICE,
IT'S IMPORTANT FOR ME TO HAVE YOU NICE.

YOU'LL SEE ME TOMORROW THRO' LEAVES AND GREEN,
THEN YOU CAN ASK ME WHERE AND HOW I'VE BEEN.

Crash! Kapow!
You call yourself a hero?
You don't know the meaning.
I run, your personalised ball-boy,
The Dark Knight and his shadow,
Trailing behind, holding the coats,
Each day the same, never seen
Just a sidekick
...
Now I have grown,
Exchanged that emerald gear,
Black trousers, a polo neck,
No longer need to be seen,
People no longer stare at the man
who followed, the man who tagged along,
Getting into trouble and causing havoc,
I am who I am,
Holy Robin Redbreast! Scream tabloids
Have I said too much? The mask holds
Identity but what if that got lost?
What if the Robin opened it's beak,
the Bat would have nowhere to fly.

Little robin redbreast
sings best before the dawn,
sings to me a song of joy
I'm glad that he was born.