"grackles" poems
Last night I dreamed of roughened hands,
And pristine walls with spackled sand,
And feeling less,
But wanting more,
Of windows open,
And a creaking door.
Last night I dreamed of voices mild,
And smiling faces, and laughter loud,
I dreamed of grackles in parkling lots,
Of finding familiar and imagining what.
I dreamed of witchcraft and of lore,
And linen hidden in a dresser drawer.
I dreamed of you,
I dreamed of you,
And all the things I'd like to do.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
This unnatural light
like the last summer
before the last winter
sends the grackles
into the cedars
rattling their wings
in the evergreens
making a sound like Ishmael
casting his bones
on the deck of Ahab's ship.
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 7:03 AM UTC
birthed into a golden birdcage
safe behind upstanding spindles
endless nectars and suet at your beckon
knowing only the showcase of your plumage
and the sound of your tunes
layers remain
between you and the grackles
painted a nuisance
yet they stay unshackled
only poisoned and disregarded.
still they know the freedoms
not found atop
swings and perches
dig deeper
until you find what lurches.
the gate can be opened
when you realize yourself
to be the gatekeeper
yielding what's mine
using wings of more than feathers
making up for lost time.
looking back at the captivity
you couldn't see from inside.
entering a new world
with the grackle as my guide.
Nov 19, 2023
Nov 19, 2023 at 4:29 PM UTC
Summer singing madly
Over empty lot
The still grass
Stands near alone
Before the final crew comes
With trucks and blueprints and concrete
To slap together rent fortune
For the white cadillac man.
Summer swinging madly
Over empty lot
The post oaks
Hesitate along lot edge,
Wait to see what happens
To the few brave mesquite:
Better to stand on edges
And wait
Than venture
To vulnerable heart
Of empty lot.
Summer winging madly
Over empty lot
The birds wing madly over
Rarely dropping
To the grass for seeds;
They sit upon the postoaks
At the edge
And keep a watchful eye
Upon the road.
All wing madly to the edge:
Grackles, swifts, and doves,
The mockingbirds, all
Save one persistent meadowlark
Without a mate
That sings each morning
From the wire,
One silly songster
That loneliness has blinded
And brought to chime
Its idyll
Summer song
Over empty lot.
Summer singing madly
Over empty lot.
Sep 24, 2011
Sep 24, 2011 at 10:11 PM UTC
*Grackles on dark lawn
Black starlings whirl yellow eyes
Mirrors the night sky*
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
Grackles on dark lawn—
Black starlings whirl yellow eyes,
. . . Mirrors the night sky.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
underneath the evergreen canapé
my feet in the dirt my heart by the hearth
the grackles teasing in last year’s leaves
and this is the last of the summer breeze
I can already see certain trees abandoning their seasonal green
I can only control every inch of me so I adapt to the new season
the new beginning, the new environment
the moment will be the soon past
soak up every ounce of sun and frolic in the lake one more time
before everything starts to die
Sep 2, 2021
Sep 2, 2021 at 8:46 PM UTC
*Wetted grass reaches for its rightful late afternoon -
zenith as winged acrobatic performers delight -
and amaze with great zeal and utter independence
Simple golden flowers fill luscious , lawn borders
Intrepid sunshine breaking free of the thundercloud -
shackles , cool currents struggle with turbulent
water borne Summer air , laughter of Grackles dancing honeysuckle
woodlands
Green grasshoppers with velcro legs , stuck to ***** denim jeans , Luna moths hold curious twixt bronze porch torches where Walkingsticks review the epic day to the chorus of haunting Night Thrushes*
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 6:28 PM UTC
a murmuration of starlings
shivers over an empty parking lot
blue sky emerges from the gloom
and then disappears again
indifferent to my approach, a stray cat
yawns and blinks its copper eyes
grackles gather on the powerlines
in the middle of the day
weeks early, autumn winds
chase leaves down the sidewalks
anxious about the fate of the nation
I search for signs and portents
a wave crests and then is gone
I comfort myself by remembering
that it has always been so
Tom Spencer © 2018
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 7:05 AM UTC
geese are gorgeous
but raucous and cruel
selfish fowls
small-brained fools
grackles are ugly
but travel as friends
it wouldn't be awful
to live among them
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 8:07 PM UTC
Grackles singing black
Beaking notes of melanchol-
Panoramically
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
Maybe I'll find
a 100-dollar bill amidst
the burnt umber
maple leaves.
Maybe the ambulance will
come disguised as an
ice cream truck.
Perhaps I'll find a
warm forgotten can of
beer in the dryer.
Maybe, I'll blow
up the moon.
I'm losing it.
My pants won't
stay up, and I haven't
got a belt.
I'm being devoured by
the autumn winds and
the grackles.
Insomnia is crushing me.
Febrile and ferocious,
I stalk the university streets,
too sick to work.
Maybe this abscessed tooth
will **** me.
I used to pound out
12 hour days in the
hot July bean fields.
Farmer John always
smiling and shaking
his head.
Life is a
bologna
sandwich, and
I write these little
poems in yellow
mustard.
And I wait.
Just wait.
Oct 19, 2023
Oct 19, 2023 at 2:34 PM UTC
the sky is clearing
from east to west
illuminated
by the dawn
silver clouds
stream by
for a moment
the whole city glows
for a moment
even the grackles
fall silent
Tom Spencer © 2019
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 10:09 AM UTC
Grackles
Pecking at the lawn.
Pulling out terrified worms
Grass
Still wet from spring
Showers. Bright emerald green
Green
Sunlight hitting the blades
Just right. Backyard lushness
Grief
Already grieving for the
End of summer. Why?
May 4, 2020
May 4, 2020 at 12:07 AM UTC
FEELING A SUNRISE
Beauty came to my ears as she sang about the hours before the dawn
Blinded by the darkness awaiting our fate ,her supreme light to make us bright
Harshness of the frost numbing, waiting for the strength to be shown
Thirsty needing quenched, life to be restored with the new light
Sunset succumbed into the dark ,reflections in the twilight are being drawn
Fluttering of their wings, hackles of the grackles raised,their chirps will soon bring new delight
Making of a day with pitch black in the way,patience in place, brightness soon to make all strong
Each cycle leaves a separate passion on the planet,with the warmth all living things have come to rely
Wasting away longing for luminescence,smiling all the while knowing the new brilliance will leave me warm
Broken twilight,misty moonglow love the lingering and feeling the flow but the overwhelming genesis, her rise will bring strength in large supply. R.C.
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 6:53 AM UTC