Blackbirds

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Blackbirds 

Voices in the tree.
Yellow beaks unseen,
black wings, a gust of wind on your cheek.

Their song is a distraction.
Searching for them, you will not notice
traces of red in the sky.

When the trees close in
and darkness comes,
you will be far gone.

Once more
a blackbird calls.
Then, only silence.


GloPoWriMo Day 6

These Birds

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These Birds

It’s been a while

since I was visited by these birds.

I know there will be tears

when they start singing,

yet, I await their return

with hope.

These birds haven’t been here for a while.

When they are absent, I am happy, but mute.

Now I will sing with them

and keep everyone awake

all night.

GloPoWriMo Day 5

The Feather

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The Feather

I leave a bloody trail
on a white road.
Line after line.
Page after page.
I am weaker than you,
but I can knock you over.
Black as night,
white as snow,
and all colours of the rainbow.
Best of all,
I can fly all the way to the Sun
and back.


GloPoWriMo Day 4

The Meaning of Life

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The Meaning of Life

Wouldn’t you like to know why you are here, I asked him?
What the meaning of life is?
Wouldn’t you like to do something truly great
instead of just sitting here
trimming the green beans.
I was 16 at the time.
The meaning of life, he said
Is in these beans.
I will trim them,
we will eat them.
That’s what I am here for.
That’s all there is.
You’ll get it one day.
As I hold the green pods in my hand,
I understand at last.

GloPoWriMo Day 3

The Broth

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The Broth

Will you try my broth, sir? The recipe is secret. It’s been in the family for generations. My broth is good and hearty. It will cheer you up. These are chicken bones. They have health benefits. Yes, it was a rather small chicken. The green stuff? Oh, those are wild herbs. I spent all night searching for them. They have benefits too. I cooked the broth when the moon was full. That’s how you impart flavours. I made it for you. I know you want to try it. So, just stop asking questions and grab a spoon.


GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 2

Reborn

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Reborn

I saw it this morning.
A turf of grass.
My shoes were muddy
when I got home.
Could it be true?
They say
this is where the river was.
She was wild and capricious.
She flooded the fields every spring.
Flowers grew here
and weeping willows.
Nobody remembers those days.
It is hard to believe now,
when you look at this barren land.
The legend says she is still here.
That she has gone underground.
Some people claim they have heard
the roaring from within.
It is believed she will resurface one day.
Could this be it?
If I dig a hole deep enough,
will I be able to set her free?


GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 1
2017 April PAD, Day 1

A Reunion

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A reunion

The house is at the end of the road. It is just a house, anyone could live here. You wait for me at the door. You seem to be glad that I have come. You offer food, I accept. The bread is stale and you have run out of salt, you say. Never mind, you know I will eat whatever you serve me.

I admired you once. I am willing to pretend that I still do.

You bring me wine. It has a sour taste. I drink it up. I smile.

And in the garden
an apple falls, wings flap.
Then all is silent.


GloPoWriMo 2017, an Early-Bird prompt