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Allen Smuckler Feb 2011
Osprey flood-pathed junctures
in the
middle
of Paradise.
Overexposed and diluted
by the
sounds
of the missing heartbeat
and the
loneliness
of the beakless egret
we all feel.

The expression of
the sunlit
reflective pool,
for the
paradise
we know and sense
and understand.
Not quite at the
end of
earth,
but almost.

While the ball
of fire
exposed and
diminished,
flourishes to the
very end., and
awakens on the beaches
of Casey Key,
toward the dusk of
the beautiful day
in paradise…
I smile
February 23, 2011
PoetWhoKnowIt Jan 2013
A paradox in itself
But then I saw her there across
the room
through flocks and flocks of 'beautiful'
silly seagulls --
              frivolously flocking,
                                            pecking at
the shiniest trash that flutters by
Only to swallow
pass
flock, peck again
-----------------------------------------------------------­---
She intrigued my mind
   through
the eye I saw her beak was flat                                y
no craning,
                  crooning neck                                   l
                                           and could not f
for she had no wings
... maybe we do not care to fly!
------------------------------------------------------------­--
Like the Red Sea
She-Moses split through the flock
to me,
beakless
surrounded by chronically cocking faces
all but one,
                                                            ­          all alone
She had been                                                     too
-------------------------------------------------------------­
Now next to me
                                                              ­                                        No wandering eye could care
in soundless conversation
proclaimed we
                       are together
as one we surely gleamed as gold
too bright for gulls to see
              ...Mastur-consolation?
------------------------­-------------------------------------
And so it's true
we were                   alone
                               together
perfect paradoxical bliss
I never do free-form... Another quick write. Hope you enjoy.
J J Aug 2019
I feel like a beakless baby bird
       Suffocating in it's egg; it's womb,it's tomb.
Thomas Alan May 2016
you want me
to be seen
but never quite heard
permanently muted;
*a beakless bird
berniiie Jul 2015
One of the many pleasures in life
is knowing that there’s heaven and hell. I cannot remember what
you look like, just that
today’s my own personal

Life-*****-and-I-Want-to-Die Day (which means
tomorrow I will
love my life and want to live forever).
The astrology department reports an explosion
and that people should stay indoors
to avoid tunnel vision.
My star sign says

I will be torn in two directions today – I should
hire a private investigator to count my steps. I wasn’t
going to feel happy for myself but
now I’m stumbling my way out of the bar
with only five dollars in my bra.

A beakless raven hops past
against the dying of the light
and intones
I am the poet Dylan Thomas
risen from the dead:
advancing as long as forever is

I promise I will be ok.
Barton D Smock Oct 2016
in the not
dream
of deserving
birth

three
beakless
creatures

open
the mother’s
mouth

more
are coming
just

to observe

— The End —