robin

 Robin,

 prelusive to wing, the wildest red, sectary,

 almagest mouths course, flight;

 your world is sublime.

 No wasted wagonloads, no lip

 forming, vulgate,

 wain carrying the

 unclaimed to Christ.

 

 I know,

 birds are just birds.

 Some fly, some don't, some

 wont even expose themselves to the risk.

 Some open their feathers to exploration.

 Some, blue chested with radiant energy,

 rests on their lists of leafs and gardens.

 You begin the new year with a wish.

 

 The noticeable pearls must still be

 spooned out by a man.

 Slender as rains subluxation,

 the infamous beauty is transcendent

 if not noble.

 

 Testosterone trees drop fruit

 like the testis of an old man.

 Stationary insects make their roost

 in your terse loop.

 The air is thin glass,

 terracota, brownish-orange,

 teaming with your

 unholy demands.

 

Reviews

[joshua deathdealer]

This is so beautiful at the beginning. Full of the wonders of one of God's creatures, the robin. Then it starts to get ugly. The massive amounts of fertilizer causing havoc on our eco system. Showing the reality of gasoline engines and punching holes through our ozone layer with ridicules rockets trying to reach somewhere we were never intended to be. This poem speaks in volumes and I applaud you for writing this awesome poem. Excellent poem.

[Emily B]

these are words to come back to when my wings are not in flight