Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2020
In the big cities
birds
don't sing anymore,
they sit in the parks
waiting for handouts
beaks in the papers
reading the football scores,

clever little chirrups or
should that be cherubs?

Cats cannot be arsed with them
kids leave them alone
they're profligate if that's the word
and better on their own,

maybe profligate is not correct
perhaps the birds are really wrecked
and need someone to salvage them,
to give them hope
to take their birdbrains off the dope
to see them in a different light
to encourage them back into flight,
but who cares?
John Edward Smallshaw
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw  68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)   
61
   G Alan Johnson
Please log in to view and add comments on poems