#sparrow
I've been having dreams of a sparrow,
And I'm not sure what they mean.
It has a patch of yellow,
Just below its beak.
I've asked my therapist,
But it only seemed to surprise her.
I've tried my psychoanalyst
But he didn't help me, either.
I've asked my English teacher,
Not expecting a realistic answer.
I've also tried my church's preacher,
And I read his assigned scriptures.
In the end, I decided,
To grab a pen and paper.
To discover the meaning, still undecided,
Sooner rather than later.
I've been having dreams of a sparrow,
And I still don't know why.
I hope they'll point like an arrow,
And their meaning, I'll realize.
Jan 28
Jan 28, 2026 at 9:15 PM UTC
I've come up with a title,
For that book I mentioned.
Where poems are the chapters,
Purely by intention.
I've come up with a character,
A somber sparrow,
Having been left alone,
Stranded far from home.
Perhaps the sparrow is a metaphor?
As of now, I do not know.
But, I've a title,
"Dreams of A Sparrow."
Jan 25
Jan 25, 2026 at 8:54 PM UTC
A small fickle flame, embedded deep in my chest. once a roaring fire now put to rest. by the hands of another. my heart, it now beats, a small brass drumbeat always ready to flee. deafening, dampened, quiet.
a sparrow once flying up high in the sky has now been shot down, it's weakened, it died. but the spirit lives on by the sound in the street and all of the people who danced to the beat.
the sparrow lives on, it breathes, it breathes.
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 4:52 PM UTC
Stuck hither in the dark
Not knowing what would come
Waiting for that moment
The painting comes unto me
This canvas bare empty
No color, naught but black
As dark enters the land
The blackness lays bare
No color of thee
No voice for me
Twould be a wonder
How I would shed red
Where art thou river
Gold and silver
Rain falling down
The beautiful rainbow
Where art thou willow
A tree of wonder with light
The fairies of twilight
Pixies dancing with me
Where art thou green
Grass lay tall unstained
Beauty of nature
Where the dandelions grow
Where art thou sparrow
Thou once was with me
Twould visit and dine
Drink of the river
Where art the sounds
The golden harp
To sing unto this plain
Playing in the night
What once was
In the stillness
Within my mind
Where art thou
My painted realm
Apr 20, 2025
Apr 20, 2025 at 8:11 PM UTC
How queer the sparrow looks,
Flapping through the air.
A flash of brown, a muted sound,
Near, far off, and there.
Quick they hide among the leaves,
They neither jump nor twitch.
Behind the threads a spider weaves,
They utter no cry or pitch.
And so our little sparrow sits
There on a crooked tree.
Among the colours where it fits
And where we cannot see.
Apr 9, 2025
Apr 9, 2025 at 5:51 PM UTC
A sparrow flutters,
Chasing crumbs on sunlit streets,
Joy in tiny wings.
Jan 18, 2025
Jan 18, 2025 at 4:24 PM UTC
a sparrow twitters
it's happiness and does not
know its wonder mind
May 27, 2023
May 27, 2023 at 4:55 PM UTC
^¡^
^¡^
^¡^
Plain and brown
Ubiquitous
Seen yet never seen
Like street workers
Or bellhops
Or busboys
Or homeless.
Scrappy little scavengers
Scraping out a small lifespan
In cracks of concrete
In city streets smelling
Of asphalt and skidmarks.
They hop along
Like yesterday's newspaper
Or a 5X81/2 inch flier
For last night's bar-band.
Dandelion's fluff.
Outside of McDonald's
They congregate competing
With each other for
Hamburger buns which
Cling to cold
Half eaten cheeseburgers.
Greasy french fries
Which cause congestion
In their legs so severe
That they shrivel up
And fall off.
Yet God sees every one
Of them. Loves them.
His eye is always on them.
They do not fall
From the branch
Without being
Counted.
A freedom we
Will never know
Is their portion.
They are unencumbered
By the ground
While we are
It's slaves.
Their 🎶🎶🎶
Tells us we will
Always be thus.
We will always envy
The soul of sparrows.
Write of Passage aka
SoulSurvivor
2022
Aug 29, 2022
Aug 29, 2022 at 3:51 AM UTC
I will stay for today
Tomorrow has me
Already
I know not where I go, hence
I hope for splendor
And the spark off a
sparrows wing.
May 27, 2022
May 27, 2022 at 6:19 PM UTC
Tomorrow hatches a cursed sparrow
Her pink-spotted wings and red-stained beak
They say, she ****** the song out her mother’s marrow
Her eyes, of gold and shimmer reek
Her voice is bleak and shrill an arrow
And a patient dawn she comes to seek
As will stumble her kins towards old light
She, scrawny, outside my window will sit
And sing and sing and sing on alright
Clumsily wake and my teeth I will grit
Squint and stare at the silhouette in bright
In sky alight, her little small being will sit unlit
Sleek with lone her innocent song
Though ugly and strange, I will hear on
Through rise and noise; however long, however long
Spring-kissed birds and the battles they won
Then I too will sing— what for I wish and what for long
Till, ever rushing, the flushed dawn will be gone
Then giggle she will and whisper a verse
A little advice from a little bird
To love, to love and never curse
This fine, fine, wretched little world
Then smile, and into the sky she will disperse
And I, serene, into the crown of dirt
Oct 30, 2021
Oct 30, 2021 at 4:33 AM UTC
they look at you with cold eyes
hard-set mouth and eyebrows rise
venom drips from their tongue
very coarse for one so young
so much anger within their soul
the glowing red embers of burning coal
they won't show weakness they won't show pain
they won't stop till their enemy's slain
that is what they show the world
fists clenched and eyebrows furled
they hide behind a tough guy charade
so no one can see them afraid
but ones you see past the mask
you'll be shocked and left to ask
why they are so nice and kind
but keep it all close, confined
An old man smiles and points the arrow
"you don't know they're just a sparrow."
Jul 5, 2020
Jul 5, 2020 at 8:11 AM UTC
The soul has as its sextant the ribs opened wide,
The heart its compass in fluid circuitous diatribe,
When each to zone the geometry of Greek sky
With its powdery fabulism of centaurs and jars
From Aesop’s wine of words, the untimeliness
Of sundials to Charybdis’s bloom of giant watery eyes.
To know oceans by the dry riverbed of my pulse,
To scale only as high as the sparrow’s tomb of my heart.
Jun 15, 2020
Jun 15, 2020 at 5:05 PM UTC
One drop fell down, one followed more
Then my count failed, free downpour
From two cloudy eyes, tears wishes feet
My lone miseries, life's endless beat.
On my bay, a sweet sparrow sat
Flown from far, but resting at last
In his beak a thread, thin long
Kept his weight down, started a song .
Weary of singing, he looked over wings
In such small frame, life joyfully blinks
Then I spot his one-legged walk
How shameful my moans, how so dark!
Oh God, tiny wings evinced glee
In his woes, but a king in flee.
May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 1:38 AM UTC
Xmas light angel sparkling bright
Walkin on the rooftops
Got someone in sight
Gunna flitter and flutter
All through the night
Eyeing a weary sparrow
till all is well
till all is right
till that lil sparrow
be ready to take flight
Bonnie Raitt &John Prine
Angel From Montgomery
Puyallup
4.24.20
jbm
Apr 24, 2020
Apr 24, 2020 at 6:30 PM UTC
Your ubiquity in my memory
has led me to miss
the fact you are now missed
in the day-glo green-yellow
gardens of eighties summers,
scattering mother’s pride,
you were overlooked in the search
for brighter birds
with better song
so I try to cherish the
rattle and chatter
of your extended family
alongside me now
no songs for me
to join your mourning
but your chip-chip banter
tells a cautionary tale
I’ll do my best to listen and learn
even as our own gardens dwindle
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 10:20 AM UTC
Alien Nation
by Michael R. Burch
for J. S. S., a "Christian" poet
On a lonely outpost on Mars
the astronaut practices “speech”
as alien to primates below
as mute stars winking high, out of reach.
And his words fall as bright and as chill
as ice crystals on Kilimanjaro —
far colder than Jesus’s words
over the “fortunate” sparrow.
And I understand how gentle Emily
felt, when all comfort had flown,
gazing into those inhuman eyes,
feeling zero at the bone.
Oh, how can I grok his arctic thought?
For if he is human, I am not.
Note: The coinage “grok” appears in Robert Heinlein’s classic sci-fi novel "Stranger in a Strange Land." The novel’s protagonist, Valentine Michael Smith, was raised on Mars by enlightened Martians, and he often feels out of sorts on Earth, where he struggles to grok (understand deeply and profoundly) earthlings and their primitive, often inhuman, ways. Keywords/Tags: Mars, astronaut, alien, primates, stars, words, ice, crystals, Jesus, sparrow, Emily, Dickinson, zero, bone, arctic, thought, human, inhuman
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 5:25 AM UTC
The sparrow has crossed my path
and I hope she'll stay
longer than a fleeting moment
so I may appreciate her beauty.
She came to me
as most Texas birds do
when you're quiet and alone.
But she was different, I'm sure.
She was vibrant,
not at all the dusty hues of the others
I had come to know.
She was bright and intricate.
The sparrow was free to roam
she was the epitome of freedom
and yet she chose to stay
singing by my side.
And she could have picked anyone,
that little yellow sparrow.
But she flew and sang around me
always appearing again.
I couldn't help but feel
that as quick
as she had appeared
she would leave again.
But the sparrow sang
and in her song
assured me
that she would do no such thing.
She was mesmerized
by me.
You can fly, and yet chose not to,
she said. Why is that?
You are as much a bird as I am,
she told me.
All you have to do
is let go.
I considered her words carefully
I had never flown before,
never thought that I could.
But for her, I did.
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 11:16 AM UTC
A cat jumps around in the moonlight,
Scared a little sparrow.
A peony flower opens,
her white dress blushed.
A swarm of bees came and went,
Flowers were being embroidered.
A frog is playing the music,
A white lily danced with joy.
A princess on the lake smiled,
Lotus around like knights.
Gently lying in the arms of the water,
Splash! a group of goldfish jumped out.
It's a beautiful paradise.
The moon drew a priceless picture.
Jan 28, 2020
Jan 28, 2020 at 8:56 PM UTC
Down at the local bar, there are two chairs.
In one is a man named Logus,
Who came from The Desert of Nine Valleys;
In the other is a song-less musician named Sparrow.
Day after day
Alone in the bar
The man with the foolish grin
Is keeping perfectly still.
But nobody wants to know him,
They can see that he's just a fool.
He wandered very far,
Very far,
Over land and sea.
A little shy,
And sad of eye,
But very wise was he.
And then one day,
One magic day he looked Logus' way.
And while they spoke of many things,
Fools and kings,
This he said to him:
“Good morrow to thee, brother prisoner!
Do you realize that you have the most beautiful face?
Do you realize we're floating in space,
Do you realize that happiness makes you cry
And
Do you realize that everyone you know someday will die?”
Logus doesn’t want to bother with the bird,
”These are all lies
and jests.”
Sparrow retorts, “Still
A man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest.
Now,
Drop your guard, you don't have to be smart all of the time.
I've got a mind full of blanks, I need to go somewhere new fast.
And don't be shy, oh no,
At least deliberately.
What was I saying?
Oh yeah.
Let me tell you a story that's sad but true,
About someone who just may remind you of you.
Let me tell you a tale that may help you awake a woozy head-
I'll buy you a drink
-It begins long ago on a happy day,
With a fool who was loved, but threw it all away,
Who exchanged a good home for a flophouse, a bar and a plank-“
Sparrow’s eyes begin to glisten--
Logus Interrupts,
“While we're on the subject,
Could we change the subject now?
My name is Logus,
I'm carrying the wheel.
Thanks for all you've shown us,
But this is how we feel.
Come sit next to me.
Pour yourself some tea.
Just like Grandma made,
When we couldn't find sleep.
Things were better then,
Once but never again.
We've all left the den
Let me tell you about it:
I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told.
I have squandered my resistance,
for an existence
In which
Ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for
And why it is here,
It will instantly disappear
And be replaced by something even more bizarre
And inexplicable.”
Sparrow began stirring in his seat,
”You know, there is another theory which states
That this has already happened.
And you lived that,
In exchange for a pocket full of mumbles,
Such are promises."
Logus looks at him,
“And? I am still alive.”
Sparrow rolls his eyes,
“Geez, you know
Somebody once asked, "could I spare some change for gas?"
I need to get myself away from this place."
I said, "yep what a concept,
I could use a little fuel myself,
And we could all use a little change."
Too bad
A fake Jamaican took every last dime with that scam.
It was worth it just to learn some sleight of hand.
Bad news comes, don't you worry even when it lands,
Good news will work its way to all them plans.
But the building's not going as we planned.
The foreman has injured his hand.
The dozer will not clear a path.”
Logus scoffs,
“You talk in maths.
You buzz like a fridge.
You're like a detuned radio.”
Sparrow Laughs, “You'll never be what is in your heart.
Weep little lion man,
You're not as brave as you were at the start.
You have a heart that's full up like a landfill,
A job that slowly kills you,
And bruises that won't heal.
You look so tired, unhappy.
Such pretty houses,
And such pretty gardens:
Green plastic water-cans
For fake Chinese rubber plants
In the fake plastic earth.
There's an empty space inside our hearts
Where the weeds take root.
And now I'll set you free,
I'll set you free.”
They both left right on time,
The Sparrow accosted his mind.
The Sparrow said,
"Hey man, we go all the way"
Of course, they were willing to pay.
Back to the street,
Down to their feet.
Losing the feeling of feeling unique,
Do you know what I mean?
Well on the way,
Head in a cloud,
The bird of a thousand voices
Talking perfectly loud.
But I never heard him
Or the sound he appeared to make.
And he never seemed to notice.
But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down,
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning 'round.
Of course, everyone goes crazy
Over such and such and such.
We made ourselves a pillar
We just used it as a crutch.
We were certainly uncertain
At least, I'm pretty sure I am.
Well, we didn't need the water
But we just built that, good God ****
For most have found both freedom and safety in their madness;
The freedom of loneliness
And the safety from being understood,
for those who understand us
Enslave something in us.
But let me not be too proud of my safety.
Even a Thief in a jail is safe from another thief.
And Horses run fastest on the way home.
Logus and Sparrow had just that in mind,
and so, after deciding to take Sparrow’s ride, they left.
After dragging themselves into the car
Logus looked at Sparrow from the passenger seat,
“I keep myself in
To pull myself out.
I'm rising up,
Wish I was sinking down.
And it's not like
There was warning
We were happy.
And it's not like
There was mourning
In the warning.
I guess I am a scout.
So I should find a way out.
So everyone can find a way out.
I know I am a scout.
I should've found a way out.
So everyone can find a way out.
Sparrow starts his car, the ignition doesn’t turn at first,
It’s an older model so it takes a few tries.
Sparrow turns to Logus,
“Well, that is that and this is this.
Will you tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what you missed
when the ocean met the sky. (You missed, you missed)
You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste the afterlife?
Drift all you like,
From ocean to ocean,
Search the whole world.
And you find your destination
With so many different places to call home.
'Cause when you find yourself a villain,
In the story you have written
It's plain to see
That sometimes the best intentions
Are in need of redemption.
Would you agree?
If so, please show me.
These thoughts and the strain you're under
Be a world child, form a circle
Before we all go under
And fade out again and fade out again
Logus starts groveling,
“Turn me on to phantoms,
I follow to the edge of the earth.
And fall off.
Everybody leaves
If they get the chance,
And this is my chance.
My shadow's shedding skin,
I've been picking scabs again,
I'm down, digging through
My old muscles, looking for a clue.
I've been crawling on my belly,
Clearing out what could've been,
I've been wallowing in my own confused
And insecure delusions
For a piece to cross me over
Or a word to guide me in.
I wanna feel the changes coming down.
I wanna know what I've been hiding.”
His eyes are the size of the moon,
He could 'cause he can so he does.
He’s feeling so good,
Just the way that he does
When it's nine in the afternoon.
Logus starts thinking to himself,
“So you think you're a Romeo?
Playing a part in a picture show?
Cause you're the joke of the neighborhood!
Why should you care if you're feeling good?
Take the long way home!
Take the long way home.
His phone starts ringing,
he clumsily pulls it from his pocket
and answers it.
It’s his wife, para.
She’s concerned,
“Hello? Hello? Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone at home?
Come on now,
I hear you're feeling down
Well I can ease your pain,
Get you on your feet again.
Relax.
I'll need some information first,
Just the basic facts,
Can you show me where it hurts?
Please don't
**** yourself for recognition.
**** yourself to never ever stop.
oh no!
You broke another mirror!
You're turning into something you are not.
Come home!
I'll bake you a cake
Made of all their eyes.
Do you see me
Dressed for the ****
Logus chuckles and thinks to himself,
“I know she's looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb
In the shape of an "L" on her forehead.”
Their eyes are the size of the moon,
she could 'cause she can so she does.
They're feeling so good
Just the way that they do
When it's nine in the afternoon.
Para continues,
“But you'll still
**** yourself for recognition,
**** yourself to never ever stop.
You broke another mirror,
You're turning into something you are not.
And that's okay
I got a box full of all your pity.
We're fresh out of tissues
Because on them I wrote a comedy,
I wrote a comedy.
Logus looking down,
almost as if she’s there in front of him
to see how sad he feels,
“Sorry, but
I'll take a quiet life,
A handshake of carbon monoxide.
With no alarms and no surprises,
No alarms and no surprises,
No alarms and no surprises,
Silent, silent.
Tell me what to do!
Now the tank is dry.
Now, this wheel is flat.
And you know what else?
Guess what I received
In the mail today?
Words of deep concern
From my little brother:
Logus briefly thinks of a letter he received recently,
“Weep for yourself, my man,
You'll never be what is in your heart
Weep little lion man,
You're not as brave as you were at the start.
Rate yourself and rake yourself,
Take all the courage you have left
Wasted on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head,
you'll never settle any of your scores.
I backed my car into a cop car the other day.
Well, he just drove off - sometimes life's okay.
I ran my mouth off a bit too much, ah what did I say?
Well, you'll just laugh it off and it'll be okay.
it'll be okay.
Everybody needs a place to call their home.
Everybody needs someone to call their own.
Even when you're lonely, know you're not alone,
You're one of us.”
Logus' attention turns back to para.
Para begs,
“Please hold on hope, don't choke
On the noose around your neck
And find strength in pain
And change your ways
Know your name as it's called again.”
Logus sighs,
“Phew!
For a minute there
I lost myself, I lost myself
Phew, for a minute there
I lost myself, I lost myself.
Sparrow,
Somewhere on the edge of the conversation,
Begins getting heavy eyed,
Shutting one then the other and then opening both
And says to himself, drifting into an irresistible
road hypnosis induced sleep,
“And if you could be what you wanted,
If you could be who you wanted
All the time,
All the time.
And now I'll set you free,
I'll set you free…”
Before trailing off.
Dec 16, 2019
Dec 16, 2019 at 12:00 PM UTC
I will paint these words,
On the wings of your sparrow.
To fly, into tommorow.
Sep 17, 2019
Sep 17, 2019 at 6:57 PM UTC
I once was laying in fields of verdant grass
Relaxing, feeling the wind caressing my face.
There, a sparrow flew by
Agile in this shining morning sky.
As it flew to its peaceful nest
Did it ask itself, “is this how I must?”
As this fleeting moment came to an end,
The sparrow flew away, far from me.
Now that I have lost it,
I wonder where it’s gone, and where it’s been,
And if I’ll ever see it again,
Bringing with it those moments of peace.
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 6:15 AM UTC