zeebee 1d
i haven't
felt like this
in a while.

carefree,
soft,
gentle-
letting my hair down,
feeling its softness.
doodling tiny feathered wings,
feeling the pen pull at
the skin of my forearm.
(three little hearts and a rose, too
when i think of you.)

i feel innocent again.
i forgot what it felt like.
i feel like the mistakes i've made
are in the past,
because you don't even know i've
made them.

my soul, the core of me,
is fluttering its wings
(the little wings
i drew on my arm)
and it feels-
small.
i do not know how else to describe it.
it doesn't feel small in the fact that
it could be easily trampled;
but small in that fact that
you could cup your warm, steady hands
around the bird that lives in my
ribcage
and remind me that everything's okay
because i trust you.
zeebee 3d
it's one in the morning
and i have so many emotions
swelling in the space between
my lungs

the space where
i imagine my soul
resides

i don't know
why, but i feel
i know
that my soul is a tangible
expanding, moving
thing
trapped in my ribcage
my fragile bones are
a birdcage for
the paper bird that is my soul

it really does feel
like it can fly
sometimes,
like now
the darkest hour of the night
or when
i let certain songs
permeate my skin
and sink into my bones

my soul is an organ
visceral, necessary
for my very survival.
a comforting weight
in the space between my lungs
when i lose my grip
or my breath
i can feel it, always there
it grounds me.
Chirp cheep cheep.
Mother blue jay sets down and sings to me.
Singing a tune she's sung since birth.
I realize it's beautiful,
it's a song of the earth.
For the blue jay does not worry,
she comes and she goes.
The next phase of life,
she'll figure it out as she goes.
Maybe the blue jay has something to teach.
Something only mother nature can preach.
Time and tribulations can take care of themselves.
So take your worries,
and set them on the back shelf.
Sing a song,
as the blue jay does.
And sing a tune to yourself,
not for anyone else,
but just because.
Alice Lovey Apr 17
The strangest melody came
'Cross the trees.
Into those dark woods,
Where the Raven hung in green.
Drifting on that tune,
The Raven found the blue
Of the sole Bluejay
Aloft and lonely too.
But not for long, really--
A violet Starling fell into.
And this began a harmony,
Unknown purity that grew and grew.
Beholden of the heavenly,
The black Raven watched afar,
Wishing for eternity, which dreams...seldom are.
Soon the Starling flew away,
And the Bluejay
Recited once again the next day,
Till quieted, and no more.
Sat back still, the Raven saw,
Then searched for the brightest purple feathers.
Plucked out its own to replicate;
It loved that color anyway.
But the Bluejay would never sing
The song it did with that Starling.
And the Raven could only caw,
While its black feathers wore away.
But to the Raven's canopy
Had come
The Bluejay.
I tried to use more imagery and analogy lately. The “short story” format’s narrative is pretty obvious. It was fun to write.
Cana 6d
I was sat so still
A bird landed on my foot
Whose fright was bigger?
Omg
Cana 6d
Spring time morning sun
Warming my back,
I got lost in the pages of hello poetry
A gargoyle perched on a step
Unmoving, hesitantly... statuesque

A northern mockingbird took rest on my foot
A moments respite from beating wing
And gravity defying flight
My poor heart jumped at his sudden touch
And my foot jerked up and away
Those unexpected scratchings
My coffee cup flying

The mockingbird was no better
All grace and glide destroyed
Frantic scrabble of feathered pinions
Escape from this simulacrum come to life.

Now, From his new purchase he examines me
Suspicious eyes, blaming.
An oddity such as me. And I him.

Needless to say, we both barely survived the encounter.
I almost died from fright. So did he though. So we’re even.
Fort Lauderdale birds. Eish
SoZaka 7d
this wind a feather
brushing against my face
  land on the horizon
for a life anchored at sea
my seamstress, the crow
who fears only yesterday
waits so patiently for my wings to grow
as cornfields sway
in a harvest moon's glow
so gently
Love waiting fate soulmates
BeHappy 7d
Flowers bloom slowly,
As the birds sing cheerfully,
And the sun rises up.
Michael Hill Apr 16
Ever so gently approaching
swinging wing by wing,
ready to feast black bird,
humming herself by a glide.

Suddenly caught in high winds,
unable to land by far,
swoop away from grazing
poor black bird sent away.

Food lays curdled sinking beneath,
Fast coming in dives blackbird,
looking for a feast which has gone away,
left hungry sad and frozen.

Barely able to stand,
feet sinking down down down
fly away black bird fly away,
on the ground she lies poor soul.
wrote this after seeing à blak bird
George Krokos Apr 16
The caged bird sings because
it longs for freedom
to fly and be with its own kind
and to know what life is really about
and be able to share it with a soul mate.

That's why the caged bird sings -
a song of hope and for all we know
a mournful yet beautiful sad song
of longing for the life
it was created for and dreams of having
instead of being cooped up in a cage
playing a role that was
never intended by nature
for it to have and live
as a captive showpiece
for a higher evolved form......
the ultimate expression of cruelty
- to deprive another creature
of its natural born freedom.....

That's why the caged bird really sings!
Written today on the spur of the moment after reading
tHE cAGED bIRD  by Mister Granger on the front page of H.P.
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