I do not write poems
About the world we see
Because the world we see
Does not interest me
Landscapes inside my mind I find worthy of words
Internal curiosities appeal to me
I am bored by birds, and clouds and flowers
Lakes, and trees and bees
Sure there is sadness enough in the mind of a bird
To fill an ocean with the tears
From trillions of heart-wrenching words
But you may prefer that I write about birds
With innocent human minds
Cute as pie, flying by, in the sky
Not terrified ravenous hunters
Constant killers of anything smaller
All through the day,
Like a child’s sinister play
Or should I write of cuddly cats
Who ambush innocent birds hopping by
Silly birds who should have stayed in the sky
‘Tis nothing to do with a need for food
‘Tis wanton bird abuse for cats' amusement
Our Earth family is Dysfunctional
The truth of Mother Nature
Is not what we want poets to write about
Sean Hunt Windermere
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
I do not write poems
About the world we see
Because the world we see
Does not interest me
Landscapes inside my mind I find worthy of words
Internal curiosities appeal to me
I am bored by birds, and clouds and flowers
Lakes, and trees and bees
Sure there is sadness enough in the mind of a bird
To fill an ocean with the tears
From trillions of heart-wrenching words
But you may prefer that I write about birds
With innocent human minds
Cute as pie, flying by, in the sky
Not terrified ravenous hunters
Constant killers of anything smaller
All through the day,
Like a child’s sinister play
Or should I write of cuddly cats
Who ambush innocent birds hopping by
Silly birds who should have stayed in the sky
‘Tis nothing to do with a need for food
‘Tis wanton bird abuse for cats' amusement
Our Earth family is Dysfunctional
The truth of Mother Nature
Is not what we want poets to write about
Sean Hunt Windermere
