I saw a sad and sleepy bird
alone up in a tree.
He sat so still, and when I passed,
he did not notice me.
But then he seemed to fret and flit
from branch to branch in fear.
And I felt sure that in his eye
I spied a silver tear.
I walked on past, got on my train,
sat by my colleague, Jack.
Was then I thought I saw the bird,
through window, on the track.
With wounded wing, he flew and fell,
then sang a song so sweet;
it touched me in my heart’s deep core
and made me leave my seat.
Gave my excuse, left Jack to stare,
(talk on the train was cheap)
but once outside, the bird flew off,
which made me want to weep.
-
Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 28th, 2021 05:08
- Comment from author about the poem: was just one of those melancholic days, when everything turns you to tears
- Category: Sad
- Views: 52
Offline)
Comments6
You have nothing to reproach yourself for Kevin - either with respect to the ultimate fate of the bird or the quality of your verse.
Good stuff.
Many thanks, DD.
Lovely well thought out words ... but a sad tone . Birds are beautiful ..,
I hate to think of a bird feeling sad wounded or scared
Many thanks, YR.
Good write Kevin.
thank you, O.
A really engaging read and with such tender care for a little bird this verse must be to me one of your most appealing writes Kevin.
Thank you, Fay. I appreciate your kind comments. Wordsworth said that, 'all good poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings.' I think we are all at our best when this definition of Wordsworth's is true of our poetry.
Very good emotive words Kevin.
Andy
Many thanks, as always, Andy. Hope you are well.
how much of what we perceive is curated by our need to cultivate a reality that matches our state of emotionality? (is the profound question your write whispered to me)..
a great read, I liked how you incorporated so many diverse aspects of poetry in this one write,
a stream of consciousness feel
steeped in melancholy
citing our thirst for nature
train journey, as setting and theme
all versed in your trademark flow
Thank you, LB. Yes, I think, as poets, we seem to see things at a profound level, almost seeing them with our feelings, rather than merely with our eyes. Again, thank you for your insightful analysis and feedback. I can only quote Wordsworth: “Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity.”
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