Paint a picture with my words, see the sun and the birds, clear skies reaching back for the horizon.. see the pain in my eyes, the fear I disguise, my wings shredded, torn, and broken.

Lilly 1d

The falcon, too, was once earth-bound,
    And scared to leave the solid ground;
    (How curious, to be afraid,
    To use the wings that you were given;)
    But she joined hands with her own terror,
    And let it lead the path to heaven;
    (How glorious, to understand,
    To use the power of your demons.)

Star BG 2d

A plaintive song a black bird sang,
before he took to flight.
He did talk to remind me,
to be cautious of night.

I did see as he did fly,
he left a gift for me.
Some of what he ate that day,
flew right upon my knee.

Though he was so black as night,
I sent him a wish strong.
Telling him I was of light,
and knew I’d feel no wrong.

For the night has stars so bright.
They dance yes every night.
I have angels round me now.
Their cool and out of sight.

inspired by Timothy. Just as I finished a black bird decided to sing. He approves. :)
Sun 4d

There was a time _
The phoenix bird set herself ablaze to rise again with the invincible power

There was a time

The dead seashells tuned the beautiful song for you

There was a time

The small town girl felt no sense of belonging

There was a time

A thousands of Lesser Whistling Teals came from far to survive on your land but never flew back alive

There was a time

The large Oak tree was dying silently, no one noticed

There was a time
_
My colors were fading but you're happy with them who stole my crayons

Once I was a complete Me before your false promise...
Once I was not a lost hopeless mind

But I was a bird,
and you should have known
I’d fly away.

I was not made to be caged,
but you can watch me fly.

a lustrous moon glossed in mist
shines on impatient lips longing to be kissed
while a thumping heart drowns in the dark,
weighted by a romance devoid of spark.

her heart is as restless as a dove,
starving for infatuation & love.
his heart is empty & cold,
living life only to grow old.

the hazy contour of slender hips  
dissipates as candlelight is extinguished by his lips;
her quick footsteps & the click of a door lock
are drowned by the steady ticking of a clock.

tonight she spreads her wings to fly,
eager for takeoff & sweet goodbye.
unchained, she is finally at ease.
abandoned, he shrinks to his knees.

He cries.
& so she flies...

My car
had been
drizzled
in honey
coloured
leaves
during the
night.

My son
and I
made a
spectacle
of how
the gold
fluttered
off into
the wind,
like a
hundred
monarch
butterflies
through
grey
streets.

I tilt
the rear
view mirror,
waiting for
lights to
change.

His soft,
buttery face
reflected
back at
me.

I wonder
how it's
possible
that such
a small
person
has the
power
to halt
the sand
through an
hourglass,
to awaken
sunflowers
by the
moon,
to derive
nectar
from a
stone.

What other
name
is there
for a
person
of such
power
than that
of a bird
which
arises
from its
own
ashes.

Vexren4000 Apr 13

Caged birds maneuver,
Through metallic bars,
Vying for seed,
Hidden in the owner's hand.
Do you think,
The caged bird dreams of flying high?
Of life and freedom,
The flow of wind.
From the dog trapped in the house,
To the man trapped in prison,
I think most dream of freedom,
From the bars and walls of the gilded cages,
Built by humanity, the race which impedes freedom.
For a creature's own apparent good.

Wordsinalign Apr 13

In the crowds of colourful birds that sat in the tallest trees, every one of them prettier than the rest across seven seas. Metaphors and similes of their beauty, made the cracks on the pavement lay at ease.

One of them remained low because you can’t fly with wings made of gold in the garden of wild unruly souls. Like the bird whose wing is broken, you are the one that couldn’t follow the motion. You can’t fly like the others or blend with their feathers.

She sat in the roar of society, keeping to herself invisible to the quietly.
A part of her died accepting that she can’t fly,
that she liked it down here and being different.
But at times she just wondered why,
what is it about her that made her insignificant that she had to lie.
Broken wings cannot fly though I’ve seen more brokenness fill the skies.

With an aroma of anticipation and she waited there for her signal, the other birds strutted their formation and blamed her for her lack of imagination.

“Go ahead feathered soul”, he said. His feather shimmering gold, she lived in denial that this new stranger fell in love with her aura of survival.

George Krokos Apr 10

Can you imagine what it would be like
to ride the wind high on a kite
attached to a string held by someone's hand
while moving around on the land?
The experience would take your breath away
and make you wonder how you could stay
forever there up in the sky
looking down with a bird's eye.

Written in 2017
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