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Nigdaw Sep 2019
Like a bird against a window
I am convinced paradise lies beyond reflection
through  this force field

constantly chasing your shadow
I believe it guides me where I want to go
though it feints movement to fool me sometimes

I have bashed my brains out on false promises
and shadows are only after all
human shaped darkness
imparo Sep 2019
I am a small bird,
thirsty to explore the world.
I've got small wings,
seeking for the touch of the wind.

I hop and hop, but I never go so far,
my head keeps bumping on a bar.
I am feed well, yes, but I'll never grow
living in this cage I've always known.
Colm Sep 2019
Not one to fly in another's sky
Nor to fish the grounds of another herrings town
For I
I am a Rook
Meaning that often and alone I fly
Not high, but above
More pleasant fowl
For as keen eyes look
And occasionally see alone
With pinions dark as covered night
There is noone else at last to be found
Because we rooks, we mate for life
There is noone else for us alive
We rooks, we mate for life
MayC Aug 2019
you are uselessly trying to learn
how to fly
when you’re living in a cage.



-May Colde
Even if it has golden bars and flowers inside, it’s still a prison.
A Aug 2019
To end a broken star,
Galaxies twist a turn from afar,
Hearts of lions know where they rest,
Upon the lonely plains,
And to end a place, to dream,
Upon the lilies, resting frogs,
A mouse trapped, stinging bog,
As the bird sings and screams.
For this prompt on Write the World by Poets and Wordsmiths: "This prompt is simple, dear poets. Borrow the title from Hilda Raz’s stirring poem, “Narrative Without People” (full poem copied below for further inspiration), and write your own poem—a narrative in which no human characters appear."
SøułSurvivør Aug 2019
Her cheeks a'blooming
Fresh petals
Assuming a charm
All their own....

Flesh roses
In a flute of bone.

Her arms are strong wings
Ethereal beauty, poised
For her journey, as a
Tern is
On its long feathered flight
From the North
She wings her way

To the South
Only to meet
The arctic waste
Once more...

Yet the flesh roses never fade

For they are
frozen with tears.

Catherine Jarvis
8/19/2019
Another poem for the book. This illustration done by Sarah, who has a skilled touch & wonderful imagination.
Erin Esterberg Aug 2019
I brought a pigeon home today.
Maybe she can be friends with my dove,
If she ever meets him.
I think she wants something,
She's watching me right now.
I can't tell what she's thinking,
But with a spirit so free,
And wings to take her wherever,
I'm betting her thoughts are quite free too.
an inquisitive bird did narrate
his tale of a tryst
regarding Mrs Jean Jameson
and Mr Laurie List

in the forest some four miles
out of Thomas Town
they'd covertly meet on Tuesday
to play hands down

the bird always had his
eye trained on suspect activity
that was happening in
his immediate proximity
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