I arose
To death
In my garden
This morn
Slumped
Lifeless
Blood lukewarm
Mangled maybe
But still whole
More or less
I think
I knelt
To grieve
In my graveyard
This dawn
Old cloth
Covered
Sheen of black
Hand shook
Heart raced
Eyes couldn’t look
I sink
I numbed
To knowing
In my mind
This wild
Boxed
Shut up
Shut in
Shut out
I need
A burial
I think
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Author:
sylviasearcher (
Offline) - Published: February 2nd, 2022 04:06
- Comment from author about the poem: I found a dead blackbird in my garden and did what any normal weirdo would do and wrote it a poem before burying it
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 102
Offline)
Comments4
And your words dear Sylvia weave care around the sad scene with this heartfelt lament to the loss of such beauty - - so pleased to see you back posting again.
Thank you Fay… I have struggled to write very much for a while, but appreciate your encouragement always 😊
you did the write thing .. hope you are well & now back for good ................ N
Thanks Neville…
Are we ever really here?
Just struggling with writing lately… 😞
I'm not so sure myself these days but I certainly seem to share that affliction you refer to ..
To find one of natures beauties like this would indeed inspire me to poetry too. Especially our beloved blackbird who enters my poetry with such a fine evensong which has lifted me so often.
Your feelings come across well in your poetry today.
Thank you… Birds are like messengers to the soul
My kind of poetry - to the point and so poetic - Superb write.
As always thank you for your kind words
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