The Wind Beneath Her Wings

by Ben Pickard   May 16, 2021

I dreamed of wisteria -
she, of jasmine -
and so when my blossom
carpeted the soil,
hers still serenaded it
from the branches above.

we were both swans,
but the arch of her neck
was always reflected with
crispness and clarity while mine
was muddied by waters that
never treated me the same.

her current was smoother, too;
mine eddied and raged, roiling and
rolling into rocks that disrupted my
route to safety: the sea.

do you know what it is
to be broken by a melody?
to have your spine compressed
by the weight of emotion,
leaving you heart-bent and buckled?
I do.
she did not.


Ben Pickard 2021


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Latest Comments

  • 3 months ago

    by Good Enough

    Oh how I have missed reading your poems Ben. Thank you for being my inspiration

  • 1 year ago

    by Mr. Darcy

    A sword in shape alone, is not like that which is forged by the flame. Can the sword shape know the difference and if so, would this, too, blunt her blade?

    Lovely work, Ben. Your free verses truly come from a deep larva cavern.

    • 1 year ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thank you both.

  • 1 year ago

    by Em

    Just wow. I'll come back and comment when I've had some sleep

  • 1 year ago

    by Aegis

    Oh lord, I absolutely love this one! Such lovely picture painting, I wish I could nominate it right this second. Great job!

    • 1 year ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thanks you, Aegis.

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