Little bird sitting on the windowsill
Why is it that you look so ill?
What is the matter? What is wrong?
You no longer brighten the day with song.
Your eyes are sad, your feathers ruffled
With what unwholesome beast have you scuffled?
Your spirit is broken, like your bent wing
The clear notes of your cry now have a dull ring
Dirt is matted, dust is caked
Blood on your shoulder where you’ve been raked.
With agonized heart, I search the sands
As this little bird’s life bleeds out through my hands.
Posts Tagged ‘Window’
Untitled Poem #10
Posted: June 24, 1987 in PoetryTags: Beast, Bird, Blood, Cry, Eye, Heart, Ring, Sad, Sand, Song, Spirit, Window, Wing
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But I Missed
Posted: June 23, 1987 in PoetryTags: Dark, Eye, Girl, Hell, Kiss, Laughter, Life, Love, Pain, Rain, Sea, Storm, Tears, Window
I’ll cry for her
I’ll die for her
Yet she sits there, deep in thought.
How dear she is
How near she is
But it’s all…it’s all for naught.
I can see the rain
Streak the windowpane
Like the tears glistening in her eyes
Anything I say
Makes her turn away
As she stolidly, silently cries.
But I love her so much that it hurts sometimes
For within my life she’s like a jewel that shines
And feel so useless when I see her this way
I wish there was something that I could say
Against the wall
Doing nothing at all
Thinking of her, alone in her chair
Never ending stints
Of vigilance
How much about us does she care?
What twist of fate
Does she contemplate
At times like this, that course is so easy
It must be hell
Locked up in that cell
Lost in the dark in such misery.
I’m awake all night because I love her so much
But now she cringes from the slightest touch
Oh let me guide her through these stormy seas
Let me help her, hold her, please
I will always love her
And I shall cover
My face so she can’t see my pain
She is so grim
Filled to the brim
With agony that drives her insane
She’s taken abuse
That’s much too profuse
For anybody in this world to take
And I’m not reassured
That it’s now up to her
‘Cause she has a decision to make
Won’t someone help her, don’t pass her by
This wonderful girl with the gleam in her eye
I would give up my life if hers I could save
But it’s no use putting lilies on her grave
She’s going, going, away on the sea
And I’ll never know if she ever loved me
That laughter I loved, those lips that I kissed
I tried to catch her fall
…but I missed.
How does it feel to be so transparent
An object made to be looked through
Unseen and
Unnoticed.
The only physical evidence that it is there is
The small pieces of
Fly and dirt and scum
And water spots
That wouldn’t have happened if it
Had Cascade sheeting action
But no one cares.
Sometimes it gets cleaned!
But only to make it more transparent
And ignoreable
And featureless
And it takes away its personality,
What little it had.
Does a window silently scream when it’s broken>
Maybe that’s what the crash is for.
How would it feel to have a hole through one’s middle?
But there are always those few, special, lucky windows;
They look out over a peaceful countryside
Or sparkling, sunny waters
Or cloudlessly blue skies.
Not streets full of pollution, misery, greed
Poverty, homelessness, helpless,
Prejudice, suffering, chaotic, infernal,
Religious, lunatic, morbidness, rape,
And other acts of intolerable crime.
They are very thin partitions…
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