song of the songbirds.

by hiraeth   Nov 28, 2019


--

smoldering words ignite again –
melting our worlds together,
stitched with rose-thorns,
platitudes and niceties.

the evenings are reserved for the
cries of the songbirds –

we seeded the lands with lament
and they turned barren,
the ambrosia we left behind was
too saccharine for them to digest:

there is no survival here.

the songbirds nestle atop
one another for warmth tonight.

as for tomorrow,
they’ll blend into the
onyx skies as they fly
to somewhere greener,
anywhere else but
h e r e.

6


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Latest Comments

  • 1 week ago

    by Ben Pickard

    Wonderful to see this on the front page; it truly is a skilled piece of writing, Mark and an absolute pleasure to read.

    All the best

  • 1 week ago

    by Star

    Congratssss Mark!! No one write like you do, your poetry has a different feel to it. Like every poem is an entry to your personal journal :)

  • 2 weeks ago

    by mossgirl19

    Such is the plight of the birds of the air...which humans can totally relate too. I really felt the last stanza. Nice to read from you again Mark!

  • 2 weeks ago

    by Everlasting

    Alright. I just finished reading this piece once. My thoughts as I read it were the movie “Bird Box” with Sandra Bullock. The line responsible for creating that association was:

    “There is no survival here.”

    I Need to re read in order to find another meaning to the poem. But I like how everything sounds smooth.
    I specially enjoy this stanza

    “as for tomorrow,
    they’ll blend into the
    onyx skies as they fly
    to somewhere greener,
    anywhere else but
    h e r e.”

    I could picture those birds. It creates a pretty image. I also like what you did with the word here. It works in my opinion.
    Well done.

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