Dominique U Apr 2014

I find
feathers so beautiful
I guess
it's because they are so light
That sense of lightness
Makes them so pretty
That sense of lightness...
I envy

Sarah Elizabeth Jul 2014

Feathers dance across my vision, and I want to gather them all up and store them inside of me.

Maybe they will make me float.

The emus formed a football team
Up Walgett way;
Their dark-brown sweaters were a dream
But kangaroos would sit and scream
To watch them play.

"Now, butterfingers," they would call,
And such-like names;
The emus couldn't hold the ball
- They had no hands - but hands aren't all
In football games.

A match against the kangaroos
They played one day.
The kangaroos were forced to choose
Some wallabies and wallaroos
That played in grey.

The rules that in the West prevail
Would shock the town;
For when a kangaroo set sail
An emu jumped upon his tail
And fetched him down.

A whistler duck as referee
Was not admired.
He whistled so incessantly
The teams rebelled, and up a tree
He soon retired.

The old marsupial captain said,
"It's do or die!"
So down the ground like fire he fled
And leaped above an emu's head
And scored a try.

Then shouting, "Keep it on the toes!"
The emus came.
Fierce as the flooded Bogan flows
They laid their foemen out in rows
And saved the game.

On native pear and Darling pea
They dined that night:
But one man was an absentee:
The whistler duck - their referee -
Had taken flight.

Kitts Apr 2015

I have in my possession
A collection of
Fine feathers and beads
Of pretty colors
So wonderful to see
My collection of
Fine feathers and beads

We're two feathers from the same bird,
tail and wing.
You can't tell when we're floating together
Which fell first, and which followed
Or even
What happened to the bird.
All we know is that some young thing will grip us in his tiny hands,
Pick us up from the dirty ground
And hold us together in-between two pudgy fingers
Imagining he can fly because of us.

Poetic T Nov 2014

Upon the wings of doves it was pure
Their purest white Feathers
Its clearness, Its symbolic touch
Upon my yet to be woken heart,
For this beauty showed what was
In front of my eyes,
Feathers did come down like snow
Not only touching mine,
Sprung forth, emotions were flowering
My heart was touched
By a feather of purest love,
That is when our eyes meet, I saw a feather
Caress your loneliness and we
Were transformed from
To hearts that were now awoken,
The true feeling stirred from inside,
To love at first sight,
We were like the feathers
Our hearts had taken flight,
We were in love as white feathers fell,
The symbol of love had opened our hearts
To what was always Within our now flourishing hearts.

CharlesC Dec 2012

she said is
the thing with feathers
perched and singing
without words..

words must surely
be deeply hidden
within that song..
can we locate
another perch..?

and ask the feather
what are your words
and your song..?
the words we find
it's shape does bind..

here are the
sharp connectors and barbs..
barbules and hooklets
all of these
to hold a feather form..

and what of a song..?
a central shaft with ending quill
guides nutrition and light..
sacred texts penned
and that majestic flight..

hope extends...

(with appreciation for
Emily Dickinson's

yuki Dec 2015

crowd of tiny black birds
one of them prettier than the rest
feathers shimmering golden
but when his brothers and sisters fly
it remains below
because you can't fly with wings made of gold

I've never gone anywhere
without seeing crows.
In fields and malls,
classrooms and bathrooms,
they're never missing.
Sometimes they'll come right up
and those moments are petrifying
because there aren't any breadcrumbs
but the bits of fears on shoulders.
When they land before you,
you can feel a massive pressure
on your chest, trapping you
and catching your breath.
I know other people see them too.
I've seen people cursed
with crows always hovering,
whispering in their ears,
pecking at their insecurities,
and screeching self doubt.
Mine is never far behind me
and he'll never leave.

Written 3/25/2014.
Srishty Mittal Nov 2014

At the break of dawn,
I turn, mumble, wake and yawn;
And turn to see
You, in our blanket castle.

The dainty sunshine bathes your face;
Of your matted hair, the breeze makes a menace.
I play with shadows of you-
And them I hold captive, in our blanket castle.

Now, the garden swallows twitter on the sill
A familiar longing, in me they instill.
The pillow feathers, the tickling toes, the warm giggles-
I realize- are but memories of you- in our blanket castle.

Suggestions are welcome!
Poetic T Apr 2015

They were of the air
Floating, clinging to
The currents, in unison
Was their movement.

Slender upon the nothingness
That held them, they danced
Upon invisible strings dancing
To natures music of the wind.

Feathers played in the heavens
light upon nothing, but flying
Higher than the winds would
Play. They would caress the
Winds and wish to never be
Apart, to let this never end.

Poetic T Jul 2014

The thoughts crowd me
Scratch at my mind,
A thousand crows fly around
It rains black,
Feathers float down
In slow motion like snow
Each different, unique,
They continue to fall.
My mind confused the feathers
Bloat out light of thought
Am I losing my mind
I see a mirror dive though
Like after a storm,
The thoughts that scratched
Now flown away,
All that is left is a single feather,
A reminder that thoughts
Can claw, scratch at your mind
Consume you in darkness,
But wash it away,
And all that is left is you and a clam mind.

Nik Krutilla Sep 2012

Moving again.
Packing and suffocating
just to hoard awhile.
Unleash and prop in the next chapter.
How many more times
will I have to revolve around the clock timer?

Displace my comfort.
Stir up and riffle my stability
just to watch for the final sunset.
Until the explanations to my pebble have to dust
out of my mouth again.

A gypsy life not for three.
So hard to handle for anyone but me.
Practice, practice, reset and stay.
It's a cycle I'm tired of.

Grown accustomed to delay and anxiety.
Longing for roots and more tomorrows.
Fly me away with wings of fire.

To disintegrate left behind memory
that's tying up my feet.
To ignite a blazed landing...

To grow from,
to be content on.

A place to be when my pebble wants to fly.


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