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Carmen Jane Aug 27
The white feathers were soft on your skin
And the bright light was more than promising
To walk through them, felt like a dream
But you felt their rough ends, your eyes scratching

To get away, you had to reach for the rim
That was miles away,not knowing where
And once you found it, you vaulted on a whim
And sank yourself in a dark goo - somewhere…

Yet you swam and you kept swimming,
You felt it in the deepest point of your heart,
You shed layers of skin, screaming,
You never gave up, you somehow knew this part..

And then...clarity...the bluest mass of water
You drank it, unsatiated, breathed it like air,
That's when you saw yourself as an author,
A poet of words, of colors that care…

You saw the top of the rainbow,
Where it begins and ends
You felt your heart grow,
With love that transcends.
Cyan Aug 21
As a child I’d always pick up feathers
and the habit persists today.
But only when people aren’t looking.
they remind me of the coat I once wore
before I forgot how to fly.
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
Another poem for the book. This illustration done by Sarah, who has a skilled touch & wonderful imagination.
Ameed Jul 8
Send me back to where I belong
Cut the wings you made of feather
I cannot live where I feel wrong
I’ll never stand this change of weather

Make me feel good once again
Let the aching leave my head
I feel the dribbling down my chin
While trying to sleep in my so-called bed.
Kit Scott Jul 5
i am the bird
with oh
wings on my back
the sky above at my disposal
i swoop and soar and i
dont stop
flapping my wings to the beat of my heart to the beat of the drums to the beat
of the world's core

and the clouds stream around me like
a million rivers but they are slow

and i am fast fast faster the the wind and fast faster than
them when they are so slow so so slow drifting aimless i am so much better

they are slower than even their lookalikes on the ground those grazing creatures eating their fill of grass and never looking

up up away from the ground the ground where they stay where they do not dare leave they will never
step away from

but i am flying and free i and the form of wind and air and i

i look up
up at the ruddy sky and the sun-stained clouds and i know i want to go higher higher to the sun and burn up in the atmosphere lose my breath to the void and meet the stars up close but

i am stuck here as i fall because

because i am full of water and flesh and meat and bone and i am too little too little to fly i need my body i need my air and

oh but i am as trapped as they, am i not?

am i not the best creature?

am i not the worst?

so, tasting my own feathers, i tumble

head over wing over head and flustered fluttering fussing and feathers-
the slide of the vane cuts against the wind i am groomed to perfection to a razor edge and i push
battling against the air until i spread wings and work with it to go
up up up again into the sky

going as high as high as i can

and i can go so so high

but never quite high enough

never quite high enough
cat Jun 18
my mother saved a dead bird
and dressed it in violets
she emptied a box
once filled with letters
her brother sent from his cell
to carry the bird down
from my bedroom
where the cat had placed it
a gift to his mother
leaving the feathers
while the bird rots in our yard
Planejane2 Jun 16
I’ve been seeing hella signs
But I ain’t need to clear my mind
I don’t even wanna rhyme
For the first time in a long time I feel fine.
cat May 23
halo, halo
flooded by musky greens
that wipe out the bitterness
to your taste
hands tight on my waste
and lifting me
to sit on a shredded pillow
the window open
the walls damp
the chill once again comforts me
embracing an icy touch
you cut my hair
a head of bleach falls to the floor
my black roots remain
fragile breaths come from the trees
awakening once more
creeping their branches into the room
creeping under my tunic
the sky clears and I am soft
the pillow empties of its feathers
removing the inside
releasing the weight
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