Secret Birds

Lost leaves ago, before
the bark- clad savage
ruled with iron lung,
when  laurels of
a one- room den, grew
sleek with wet- lid plunder
my sauntering in tousles of
a brief and creaseless happiness
beheld the gifted wish of secret birds.

birds that combed the milking beech
in lemon centred madrigals 
to cove their Egypt orison
from dragon banks of slippered fern
Who threw their mooted sermons on
a shivering uncertainty that bubbled
through my vernal rut of optimistic blood


Such useless pleasure, I was told
That I was not a Father's son
yet bore his term an absolute.
As all my nimble colours ran, I 
wore his pungent bitterness 
Became the thing that he preferred

Before the dungeon keys had turned
basket weaving weeks of youth

I took the gifted wish
of secret birds.

Reviews

[Voice Crowe]

I am speechless. You truly are the definition of a poet. This is beautifully written. You have an amazing gift.

[Alistair (Ali)]

Thank you so much for your kind words- but I promise you this, the verse is only true if it touches another- without the connection, it is nothing- the reader completes the cycle- and that is the absolute truth!
Thank you!

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Wistful, whimsical, wonderful...a young man’s “gifted wish of secret birds” cherished far away from the madding crowd of one dungeon-master...so eloquent with musical flow and cadence,tendrils of mesmerizing, pristine imagery that create a secret world of magical dreams. Thank you for sharing this beauty. Love it!

[Alistair (Ali)]

Thank you, kindly- those birds sent me to Egypt and the Mediteranean Islands- I followed their song for miles and years- and still do!

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

So amazing! You must have such beautiful stories to tell. If you write them, I will read them! Glad to know you!:)

[Alistair (Ali)]

And its a pleasure to know you too!