Poem -
dead song in a bird
drain the yellow
from buttercups
All you got is cold day grey
Or the pinkish blush
from summer roseĀ Petals left
Just decompose
don't know any purpose
to lush new plump things
can't find that much use
In the reasoning of things
The fresh new birthed babe
The dead song in a bird
Pretty suicide bee
on a terminal felled tree
Can't find that much point
in god's reasoning of things
Don't see that much sense
Way life only brings
cold day grey
M
Ā
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Comments
I'm a rare pinner these days .. but this would get more than just the one I'm allowed to award .. if I could, that is and I hope you might realise one day just how good it is .. x
I don't take praise from you lightly Nev...
So I'm chuffed with your comment. Thankyou x
I like how you use the buttercups and rose as examples of what you call "lush new plump things." I guess what you are saying poetically is that their transitory nature renders them as not having much point as you express it in your poem. Dead song in a bird is a very attention grabbing title and it does sum up the meaning of your words. I am drawn more to "cold day grey" though.Ā
Transitory yes Bernie. My young cat kills many things. I'm often confronted with dead songs in a bird... sadly. Thankyou for your lovely comment x
You are welcome as always. 'Tis in their nature. x
Bernie is right again. He's does a good critique of your poems. What he said, M. I concurĀ
Thankyou my friend x
You paint a sad day with beautiful words andĀ
the colour yellow. Keep that brush, Marion, and
perhaps tomorrow the buttercups will not lose its colour.Ā Ā Ā B
Ā
Thankyou my lovely friend. x