The Art of Staring

A Poem by Harlotte Crow

When things separate themselves away from something, they lose touch. The person here met a bird who had been locked away for such a long time he lost track of his nature, and so did the person here.

I looked at the caged bird. “Oh why do you sing?”

“Oh the sadness.” He replied “No room for my wings.”

I looked at him some more, with a gaze in my eye.

He tweeted and sang, and he sang no lie.

“Dear bird” I said sweetly “Would you like to fly?”

He looked at me and seemed to cry.

“My key is gone and this lock is locked. I've lost track of my migration and flock.”

I looked some more and he looked back.

I noticed some bird food and opened the pack.

I slipped some through and he ate it all.

He ate every last piece both great and small.

I decided to set this bird free...

I shook the door, broke the lock, and the door hit me in the head.

I fell to the ground limp, as if I were dead.

I had my eyes open and went into another world; Mind in a fantasy but eyes on the bird.

I could see the bird of a vibrant blue.

The two worlds combined into a universe that seemed true.

The bird flew free and I ran fast.

I left all of my burdens in the past.

I jumped into the air and spread my wings.

I flew with the birds and lived amongst flying things.

I did a ballet of freedom in the sky high.

I never knew of the weightlessness in the ability to fly.

I did a dive down, avoided a crash to my death.

I became a vessel of a horse and headed west.

The bird transformed into an eagle at my side.

He hitched on my back for a high-speed ride.

I ran through the plain without direction.

But then my desires changed, no warning or detection.

I ran for the cliff with all my might.

I ran over the edge without fear to my plight.

When I hit the water I was far from dead.

I saw my little bird friend above my head.

I was a fish in the canyon swimming along.

I swam down the river listening to the water's song.

I traveled downstream until I decided to join a team.

I jumped out the river and took a shape of a dog.

I ran with a pack through the smoke and fog.

We got to the edge of a cliff again.

We howled our hearts out to the tune of a wild wolf’s sin.

But as I howled with the symphony I saw a phoenix rise.

It was my little bird friend by my surprise.

He screeched into the dead of night.

Scaring my pack, making them run with fright.

I gazed at the bird as the fire went out.

His ashes hit the ground, change was en route.

I walked over to him and saw his blue vibrant face.

Then the earthquake and change began to take place.

The bird and the ashes began to move away from each other.

From panic and fear my heart began to flutter.

I tried to run, but death was a fact.

The scene was separating and then snapping back.

It kept repeating until there was a dominant place.

I looked my bird friend quite fondly in the face.

We’d stared for a while now just looking at us.

I still had blood dripping from my forehead; the door gave me a bust.

But it sent me into a fantasy beyond compare,

When the desires of a human and animal can combine only when the two stop to stare.

© 2015 Harlotte Crow

Author's Note

Is the poem descriptive enough?

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Featured Review

cimmy wuv xxxooo

Believe me its descriptive enough.
You have told quite a story here, was quite intriguing.
all started off with one bird. The bond you formed with the bird in this story was very interesting.
The adventures you had once you took flight, and the changing shape and form, I wasn't expecting but I liked that.
Very well written you have quite an amazing imagination :)