"bawk" poems
your mother's chickens
that bawk; that shamelessly take her food
that she soothes; then fly away
full of her kindness, flightless and weighed down
out of the nest she built with her own jaws,
clumsily plunking to the ground.
your mother's children
that walk, that bawk; that she'll lose too
snapping their beaks, using their words as weapons
like hatchets they never sharpen
left inaudible but volatile,
and impatiently toss away
aimless, 'til their throats are sore
final squawks spent in defiance,
axes ricocheting like bullets
back in their mouths.
she can't help but smile at the
thought- there will be no
flying south,
not this winter-
not ever.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 12:02 PM UTC
It's the first good day in a month.
After two weeks, bedridden
I finally have the energy
To take the dog around the block
She stops to sniff
Every single tree,
Patch of grass,
Stop sign, and telephone pole.
Normally, I'd be annoyed
Angry even
****** Anna!"
With frustration, I would bawk.
But not today.
It's fifty-five degrees outside
And I'm not in pain
So sniff up enough
- to fill your little doggo soul
Just don't pull so hard.
I know, I know. You don't wanna stop.
Ok, Ok. Just one more time
Around the block.
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 5:30 PM UTC
the chickens keep bawk-ing
bawk bawk bawk
their pointless views, and
having each other
roasted in the end.
-qyf
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 12:29 AM UTC