Your love is like a frozen bird, a
feathered stone falling from the sky.
I wish it didn't die.
It should be flying, and soring, and
healing, against the warm blaze of
the afternoon sun--weaving and
diving through the coolness of the clouds.
But it's gone, and all it can do is
plummet and take a few more
birds out, on its way down.
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Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 4th, 2025 10:49
- Comment from author about the poem: I did a poetry reading and book signing at the Clear Lake Public Library. It was a lot of fun. I put it on my YouTube channel. My books are available on Amazon. They are Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, It's Just a Hop, Skip, and a Jump to the Madhouse, and Sleep Always Calls.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 111
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments10
Good metaphor Thomas nicely done
Much appreciated
Most welcome Thomas
Just as long as it doesn't land on my head 🤣 super imagery,I almost felt it falling.
lol. I appreciate it, sweet Teddy.
Excellent write, Thomas!!! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
ty
Solid.
Much appreciated.
👍🏻
Cracking imagery, Thomas. A fine write.
Thank you, my friend.
A fine write, Thomas.
Thank you.
Nice poetry.
I appreciate it.
It plummeted but left me suspended with..what if it did fly...
Thanks.
Excellent poem, enjoyable vid!
Thank you. Much appreciated.
beautiful..enjoyed it
Thank you.
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