"thunderbird" poems
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
311.4k
I tromped across North America a few years back
Following the Mayan Elders
Listening to the powerful Lakota Brothers sing songs of mourning and joy
Building community
I was following a White Cherokee
We created clan
I was motivated by the teachings of the Anishinaabe
And represented Thunderbird Clan
We stopped in sacred spaces such as Serpent's Mound
And Cahokia Mounds
We peered briefly through the veil; Samhain
I followed the red path and eventually found I had always been on it
I met Hopi and Navajo elder's
And my friend Sea, a pipe carrier brewed a special tea
I was gifted tobacco that had been grown from seeds
Recovered from an iceman's medicine bag
She transmuted the ancient tobacco into a tea
By folding it into a sweetgrass and cedar brew
Sea gave it to me in a basic stainless steel carafe
Every time we drained the carafe
I refilled it and the essence was just as powerful as the previous brew
When I finally caught up with the Lakota brother's in Sedona
Their voices were raw
We all were
I shared the tea with them
So much magic on that journey
The joy on those brothers faces as the tea reached their throats
I gave them the carafe and told them
It was the gift that keeps on giving
Their thankfulness has been the gift that keeps on giving
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
no guilt lives here
no binding fear
no last chance proof
no remedies moot
the hollowed heart
pounds still
the measured mark
unfilled
driven thoughts
will stay their course
amid the freaks
of future's force
change of mind
is change of time
chain this shame - raise this blind
fork this road - freeze this cold
bide this crime - bend this fold
embattled breath
to and fro
know no rest - take this toll
buried love
long and low
climb this crest - breach this hole
here where no guilt lives
where the hollow heart pounds still
pumping pain like a train through my brain
'til i'm a free bird in the rain
'til i'm a T-Bird in a frame
'til i'm a face without a name
©Jason Cole
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
Curled up in the passenger side, my moccasins rested on the edge of the seat.
Projecting heat pleaded the piercing winter from under my skin.
My chin fell slowly as ash insulated my heart.
My lips would part as second-hand soothing soot
Grew arms and cradled my soul like the look
A newborn baby receives when wrapped in adoration.
A suffocation as an indication I was not alone.
Strangers. Soaring together for forty-eight hours.
Oblivious to dangers our adolescent wings never noticed.
Our only focus was on each other.
At first, words of conversation refused to be discovered.
But all at once we slowly uttered
Our pasts until his demons appeared in front of me.
Surprised I could still see through the windshield ahead,
I did not dread the broken being to my left.
Because who was I to judge the stranger
Who’d unknowingly love me as if his life depended on it?
Have you ever been in love with a Thunderbird?
One that flies solely in winter blizzards?
Fueled by chain-smoking cigarettes
And Dunkin Donut cappuccinos with five sugars.
It never once regarded the threat
Of driving through life
At ninety-five miles per hour.
I fell in love at six in the morning, wearing a borrowed jacket.
Coated in sleep’s drowsiness, we floated on clouds,
Dodging white paper coral trees and buried houses.
I fell in love when the world stood still
And the snow descended along with our sanity.
Somehow a Thunderbird granted me amnesty from myself.
As humanity remained asleep, with stealth
We drifted through back roads in horrific elegance
That jostled my brain until my mind was rewired to my heart
And has remained that way since.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
Under the I-20 bridge
over the Chatta-
'hoochee suits me
fine as fishin' line
- I've been retried
and found
I ain't wanted
nothing but a winter coat -
my sweet mutt Woof
- an old six string Martin
and a 'frigerator carton
for sleeping in the winter wind
when the sun don't shine -
I don't have a bone to pick
- my fingers ain't quiet as quick
and nimble on a riff - my back is stiff
- but my voice is still whiskey
smooth and my words turn
water into thunderbird - wine
retried suits me just fine
- jailhouse jeans
and salvation army boots -
refried beans and cheap cheroots
- sitting on an old truck tire
around an open fire
I've been retried and trued
but I ain't yet retired -
somebody's got
to feed my dog -
sing some songs
- catch these fish
and start the fire -
drink a little *****
- 'neath the I-20 bridge
over the Chattahoochee
rivaaa····
r ~ 10/16/14
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
He would appear and disappear
without a sound
Would stare at the stars
all night long
Sleep on the cold desert floor
Eat peyote buds
and sing war songs
He was rich
in all the nothing he had
Identified as a thunderbird
The animal spirits
were sacred in his world
Asked about gold
and he would scorn
Holding up water
the most precious
in all forms
I called him Navaho
NO !
Call me Dineh !
So I did
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
I buried Wisdom & Folly at Indian Graves this afternoon
It was cut in three
The two halves I buried close to each other
When they come back on the next plane
They will have a better chance of finding each other in one piece
The tail, I left hanging on a tree
You don't need a tail to walk upright
Raven is near
She's paying her respects
And a Thunderbird does a fly-by
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
Prompt: Narrating a famous historical figure stuck in a traffic jam.
Here I am, All Alone in my car.
I’m stuck between a Thunderbird and a red light.
As Time Goes By, I get to thinking about that Autumn in New York,
when we were walking through the rain At Sundown.
I Didn’t Know What Time it Was, but
I begin to think about you, The Girl Next Door,
you know I’d Know You Anywhere.
And then You Kissed Me, I remember thinking,
For Once in My Life, I’ve Got the World on a String!
But Don’t Worry About Me, I Don’t Like Goodbyes,
this is The End of a Love Affair.
But next time you see me, Gimme A Little Kiss
and Try a Little Tenderness,
for you are The Gal That Got Away.
May 15, 2011
May 15, 2011 at 8:11 PM UTC
limited knowledge like the texture of the universe
incarnate into thunderbird till you reimburse
being human, yoga seeking union, change wave like a pitch bend
Discard the temporary factors reach the innermos,t ego rend,
rightly reach the innermost self within his or her own being, discarding on the way all temporary characteristics when asked to move do I
Move my atman or my body?
Do You own your soul like a new bugatti
Try to see it as it truly is
the body is insignificant
eternal forever ripping it.
I am the servant when I know my body
Yours when I live like atman highly
I contain without recipticol i.e
Is god different than matter, what IC..
Does it matter? knowledge
offered fresh like silver platter
that eyeB
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 1:31 PM UTC
it's so much easier to write about her
(i see her when i stare into the mirror
she stares right back
and the viscid jealousy
seeps into my ears
and out through my eyes)
i write her up
and erase her completely
and push her out
and summon her again
i wear her skin every day
because i figure she's the one people really want to see
(sometimes i wonder
if i'm in love with her
but then i remember
the pain she dealt to me)
she's beautiful, fearless, ablaze.
and when she dances
she leaves a trail of fire so dazzling
that it moves the sky
and the preachers wonder
if the rain was brought not by their clasped hands
but rather by the thunderbird
because it's so much easier to write about her
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
Thunderbird wine and a brown paperbag.
Hardpack of Newports nicotine fit shayesed .futhermucker.
Much obliged ...oh yes. Moma.said thered be days like this
Double ful twist piked in a spin dont even like the skin im in
Igpay atinlay...uckfay ouyay..iskay imay.asskay
Yea uthermayuckerfay
Days like this.
Futhermucker.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 3:33 AM UTC
I wish that maybe you weren’t so afraid.
Those were the only words I could conjure from my mouth last night, when I should have been pleading for you to take my hand.
I am not talking cheesy wedding bells and frilly dress nonsense.
Just take my **** hand and let me show you why I love you.
There are no strings attached with me, and don’t you dare tell me that you that you cannot see how loyal I am to you. I should have pleaded my case right then and there, but I am now, and I want you to listen to me.
Writing a love poem is hard now a days. It seems like everything has been said and done in almost every conceivable way.
I don’t want to spell you hand-me-down words.
I want to spoon feed you the lust from my soul as if it were a book that had never been written. Let the words I write for you spread across the decades for all to serenade a doll like you.
I want you to cherish our romance.
I see you for what you are and I see that there is potential for me to hopelessly fall. I may be a tad bit reckless with the way that I toss about my words for you like a lust struck conundrum, but try to see me for what I am.
My hands are reaching for your heart.
Let me in.
I’ve been knocking on that door of yours for days now, and I just want to know if I’m going to get my fair shake at this. I cannot sit here and blab my trap about how or why I’m so different, but I know you can see it in my eyes. I will lose the rest of my hope in this world, if I do not get my fair shake at this.
Take my hand please. I’ll gladly get down on my knees and explain to you why graveling doesn’t suit me, but at this point, I’ll do anything to make this a reality.
I want to show you that chivalry isn’t dead, and that I would do just about anything to be able buy you a 15 cent Coke and take you to the drive in movie in my thunderbird.
This is the heat of summer, this is it.
I’m here.
So spare yourself the conscious scrutiny of my demise, and give me a chance.
You won’t be sorry.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
i
let´ s be birds
repulsive creatures
though they saved
my bacon i
on a few
occasions
when in the jungle
when there is silence
lily is jane
i liked hairy women..parenthesis..
i found their gossamed armpits
a delight
fine as a bird´ s underbelly
ah yes birds
prophosize the future
so when you hear their
happy little voices in the
morning
ii
excuse me i am trying
not to go into shock
i was bitten by something
my hand is bright red
and pained tingling
runs amok..
in the jungle
there are so many death..parenthesis
iii
a few years i was bitten
by a snake
i was trying to help
and grabbed it´ s pretty tail
you will be happier over there
yonder green..
but the ungrateful little *******
sunk his fangs into my hand..
and i eased the back of his delicate
skull like a miracle from god..
and prised his delicate jaw asunder
i thought that will teach me to interfere
put him in the grass..
iv
birds..
let us be..we have a lot of blackcaps..
quite a lot of jays
though it has been years
since i have seen
then hoopoe
i like them
man bird
who does not
love and fear the
waxen wing..
the sparrows laugh
the blackbird like
some gibbet´ s shadow
outside my window
the pyramid
and golden eye
the seagulls don´ t care..
sometimes what sit of
goldfinches arrive like
gatecrashers and it is
a thunderbird..lol
shit..we all panic like
detroit..
i watch the crane
like dinosaur
slide across the sky..
there is a stray parrot
abroad
our ducks were murdered
one windy night..
but the parrot silent
once i thought about a robin
and it appeared
i thought that weird
and it said well
we have some vulture
lily stop that
no
we
don´ t
....
v
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 7:34 AM UTC
The night wind whistles,
Rustling the leaves upon blackened trees;
A midnight silence interrupted -
A forest on the outskirts of town,
Stirred from sleep, and legend-bound.
A trail leads through the wild black,
Rumbles of thunder distantly sound,
And with each beat, the gale awakens.
The cracking strike of an electric bolt
Lights the trail for a mere blink of an eye -
Behold the shadow with titanic wings,
Soaring low, and on they fly.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 4:37 AM UTC
My email is on Thunderbird, you know,
But now it's Thunderbird a'Go-Go,
It'll go right into the ******* tip,
With my boot up its blip!
Technology so dysfunctional for an old bird,
That's why from me you haven't heard,
Hope this poetry site works,
Technology can be so perverse!
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
O lady Penelope
why do you like all Pink
yes you do girl
your car
most of your dresses
that turns in to a sub and things
Yes Yes you do
so princess
come over here
and make my fingers stink
**** got a splinter
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 4:38 PM UTC
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 6:33 AM UTC
"I don’t want to be beautiful with you
I want to be an ugly, wretched, bleeding thing
Pouring out on the windmills
I want to be the locked tiger they can’t lock up
Until it murders and then rages through the fields
Of wild grasses
I want to be so wild they can’t lock me up"
— Dorothea Lasky, from “You are beautiful,” Thunderbird
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 6:56 AM UTC
*You say I'm missing
Yes, you are right
I'm missing from the
corner of my heart
as a soulless being
shallow
from the deep cut
within.
Into this dark lost world
wandering here and there
in search of
a puzzling piece
which
got lost long back
and other pieces unmet
destined to never ever meet!
But
I seek that piece
in the very first ray of the Sun
I meet in the empty roads
as dark as my soul
I speak every day
with every falling drop of rainfall
until the Thunderbird mocks at me
to find I have nothing of that
piece*
but still I seek...
*
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 4:06 PM UTC
One snowy night years ago I was driving home
and my ancient classically beautiful ford
thunderbird spun around in a perfect
three hundred and sixty degree
direction careening but in a
slow-motion way on slick ice. I recall pleading
in a frantic prayer to keep my car free
from collision while my body was
angling crazily like a crash test
dummy veering dizzily
but I survived.
I drove home recapturing my breathing with
renewed respect for God's good grace and
my incredible brush with mortality and I
wondered about the snow that falls
settles paints prettifies and terrifies
our universe, that never lets us
forget the drift between life
and death, between fear
and serenity.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 1:58 PM UTC
The driving force is of course
need
and we feed it to
those that deny it and rely instead upon
the natural order, we're also busy
weeding out the dead legs
those that can't walk can't baulk at that.
I had drive once until the gearbox seized up and
the engine caught fire,
but once
I was so high octane
that
I peed petroleum
need?
I did not.
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 1:29 PM UTC
- I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name
انتظرت عودتك كما وعدت لكنني انتظرت وانتظرت حتى كهلت ونسيت اسمك.
- I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 9:41 AM UTC
there are monsters
at the end of our
most scenic streets.
still, we must travel
them and see those monsters,
shining our light in their
eyes.
some of us may exsanguinate,
or be gruesomely crushed by
uncaring or misguided jaws.
yet, we must remain steadfast
in showing ourselves to be,
each one, a phoenix,
a thunderbird.
We must rise above such
simple and foolish a
construct as hatred.
We must show those monsters,
at the end of those streets,
in those dark corners,
that we do not fear them,
that we will overpower them,
rising above them,
meter by meter,
stanza by stanza.
We must be the embodiment
of what we do,
we must be poetry.
we must bring our
light into all
those dark places,
we must never, ever
relent.
***
-JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 1:40 PM UTC
The old soldier I loved,
The young child I endured:
Both gained my friendship
Since we have raggedly matured.
Though clouds of grey
Have swept me away,
Still I oft return
To hear the bark of a thunderbird.
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 2:02 AM UTC