don’t yell at me
i see you just fine
from your perch
maybe i’m tired
or forgetting self
but don’t yell at me
not yet
give me instead
feathers to wear
under my armor
soft against skin
oil seeping in
memories playing
let me fall a bit more
just a bit
tomorrow i’ll try
to listen
*40/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic
“tok?”
😉
Perhaps. He had plenty to say to me about my hobbling.
Crows are good for that.
I enjoyed your poetic communion with the crow — or is that a raven? What begins as an abrupt snap at the bird gradually turns into counsel towards the end, by which point the poem is no longer merely an address to the bird.
I do think it’s a crow, and thank you. They are loud birds and I felt like this one, watching me hobble in pain, had quite a bit to say about it.
I love the way these words take shape into something deeply wanting~
Thank you, Ari. The act of writing these poems daily is forcing me to let the words say what they must, and not overwriting them. It’s been an interesting experiment.
Just popped that one out, huh? Just take a simple beginning, (which made me laugh) and work it like dough until it rises to become a loaf. Nicely done.
Aww! Thanks. Some of these come quick and I’m kind of learning to just get out of the way when they do. What happens when I think “I need to make this bigger” or “this needs more structure” is the poem becomes messy…often losing the feeling of the raw version of it. This process is helping me let go more of that need to make it “better.”