bird poetry

Midweek Poetry: The Raven by daintydora

An attempt today at a poem in Triolet form, where the eight lines follow the repetition ABaAabAB. I like repetition in a poem because it serves to emphasise particular words and create a rhythm. I think the Triolet would usually feature iambic tetrameter too, but one step at a time...

I chose the raven as the subject of the poem because I always feel birds are so intuitive and carry messages through the skies. Ravens particularly are also harbingers of fate (doom?), destiny and magic.

January feels like a somewhat fateful, dark and brooding month.

The Raven

The Raven
The raven came for you today
He stayed a while, then flew away.
(You wouldn't wish him to stay?)
THE RAVEN CAME FOR YOU TODAY;
dreich  silhouette above the city's decay
strutting back and forth in my window bay.
The raven came for you today -
He stayed a while then flew away.

Midweek Poetry: Golden Eagle Soars by daintydora

This week's Midweek Poetry slot is another creative challenge and link-up with Karen my blog-buddy and #creativesister from Leaf & Petal. We each picked 5 random words, making 10 words to incorporate into a poem. They are:

Lens, Exquisite, Forgiven, Soar, Cat, White, Blancmange, Lush, Hedge, Blackbird

Golden Eagle Soars

Quite a challenge, but then creativity is never a challenge, really. You just go with something; follow a thought as it burrows down a particular rabbit hole.

Here goes:

 

GOLDEN EAGLE SOARS
The lens was hidden,
buried deep in the hedge
amidst green leaves and twigs and nests,
trained on the exquisite sight
of a Golden Eagle.

 

This was no common-or-garden blackbird
(though everyone loves a blackbird - right?)
- including next door's cat.

 

But this was a lush bird
with a wing-span too incredible to mention
and a prowess that preceded him and so
when he touched the sky - oh how
those wings could soar! High
up until you could be forgiven for thinking
you'd never seen him at all; his white
breast a fringe of blancmange
akin to clouds in delicate repose
where the lens can't reach - just a mirage;
an exquisite mirage.

 

But we got him from the hedge, captured
once, now, forever.

 

Words + birds = bird poetry. Oh how I love it.

Now read what Karen came up with.

 

Midweek Poetry: Jaybird, Songbird by daintydora

This isn't a new poem, but I thought I'd republish it here today. It is short and silly and it rhymes, so it's a perfect midweek pick-me-up.

Jaybird, Songbird sing for me: Midweek Poetry

Jaybird, Songbird,
brown-spotted Thrush.
Jaybird, Songbird -
night-time crush.
Jaybird, Songbird
oh how twee;
Jaybird, Songbird
sing for me.

These lines came to me as I walked home from work one night a few years ago, photographing the broken skeletons of leaves that lay in my path, and pondering a situation I was involved in that had become all-consuming, exhausting and miserable.

The rhythm of my steps seemed to beat out the words, and I was drawn to the idea of repetition as I found it comforting.

I suppose the idea of the birds singing sweetly in the trees - particularly the Songbird - and going about their business as the season changed from summer to autumn, felt uplifting and hopeful.

Possibilities everywhere, in the hedgerows and trees, in the sky, in my own back garden, in my head.

I have a lot of ideas for bird poems, both frivolous and dark.

Watch this space.