Quiet urges to be born in daylight's infamy,
Placid, still and calm, jaded day will soon die.
Birds, the artisans of flight, startle in majesty,
Their candle wings flicker, bribing the sky.
Wing against gentleness, will against chance.
Now that is the way to romance.
Battered hearts urge their brothers to rest,
And walk silently toward grey skies that dance.
They raise their arms like followers of jest,
Glad for another moment to leap and run wild.
To jump high and raise flags above their heads.
At sunset, when night crawls to the edge of the nest.
With passion in their hearts they glance back,
Fall and flap and drift forever to the unknown.
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Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: April 13th, 2025 02:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 29
- Users favorite of this poem: arqios, sorenbarrett, Mourgana of the Fey
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Comments7
Now give me a poem of twilight and dusk, more so one as powerfully imaged as this; then ferment its grain freed from their husk🙏🏻🕊️
What a wonderful critique mi amigo.Thank you
An awesome weekend to you too compadre🙏🏻🕊️
nicely penned...
Thank you so much
David this is one of those rare poems that is both beautiful and deep in its meaning. A great use of image and metaphor it is most somber and so can be life.
Thank you so much.Your insight is always welcomed
Wonderful imagery with a deeper than first read meaning, beautifully written, enjoyed the read
Thank you for commenting mi amigo
You are very welcome
Excellent write David
Thank you
You're welcome
This piece to me is a mere delight to read. It so vividly speaks in a language of the birds. I always just embrace the times when all the little ones come out again to bring so many offerings to us. Saw these two red chested birds they are quite large yesterday. I was honored they picked one of the trees in my garden to rest with the trees.
Yes it is dusk when I hear all the birds chirping. Thanks for your wonderful insight
Fine words David, as darkness settles all can relax.
Andy
Thank you so much mi amigo
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