Waking in a city of birds
a scaffolding of songs
scrapings in the gutter
guttural divine calls
beyond the open window
half-closed curtains half
-closed eyes the only way
to know the ephemeral
nothing quite present
slow departure slow
arrival this one beginning
among many others and
a motion not a place
Nice one! π
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Thank you!
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The enigma is the word and the puzzle never gets solved for there is a missing piece.
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isn’t there always?
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π .
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π
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I love your poetry, I write poems surrounding similar topics at http://www.blogthewriteway.wordpress.com -Check it out if you’re interested!
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Thank you, Sophie!
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I enjoy your form though I find it a little confusing. Do you read ee commings?
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thanks! and yes!
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I had a blackbird and her hatchlings living in the air vent of my tiny college room this year and they always used to wake me up around dawn in time for feeding time with momma. This (although it probably shouldn’t) reminds me of waking up to them!
Great piece!
http://www.crackplot.wordpress.com
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Thank you! Although it seems that waking up to birds one in a while is one sort of poetic, while being woken up by birds every morning is a whole other sort… π
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this one – and the next (I read backwards!) – superbly well placed
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I am sometimes a little alarmed at how well things read backwards… thanks!
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