A little bird from the sky.
Clips its wings, and cannot fly.
Eating bugs from the ground.
Gains weight, and cannot fly.
A little bird from the sky.
Forgets how to fly, as time goes by.
A little voice from inside.
It’s not safe here you must fly.
A cat it plays here, the fox, does come here.
And an owl swoops down here.
Leave the bugs for a while.
And fly again. into the big blue sky.
But! cries the little bird.
It takes no effort, eating bugs on the ground.
A little voice from inside, louder now with its demands.
The ground, it is your prison.
Wings they hold the key.
Fly and you will be free.
The ground was not -ment for thee.
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Author:
Tizermax (
Offline) - Published: February 17th, 2017 04:34
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 52
Offline)
Comments4
WELCOME TIZER (Lovely drink !) Thanks for your first poem. Elegant in structure and a great moral subject ! In the 21st C ~ so many people take "The easy way out" grovel around on the ground and forget hoe to fly. It is only by "flying" that we escape from "easy street" and reach the Stars ~ Per Ardua ad Astra ! Cats ~ Foxes ~ Owls are everywhere ready to pounce when we are fully bugged ! Thanks for caring & sharing ~ more please. Please check my poems ~ Thanks BRIAN.
Well written and expressed
Loved this....the ground is such an easy option sometimes
So clever. Wonderful job!
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