The clouds descend but then they clear away
the rain giving life to parched greenery
A bittern booms in the periphery
a little egret pirouettes, unfurling into an epiphany
A heron circles like a twisted rope
giving room for a flicker of hope
as he lands down in his dishevelled robes
birds
NaPoWriMo: Sturdy as a tree
Accepted into a blackbirds life
as he dinosaur walks inches away from you
without a flicker of fear
makes you feel as sturdy as a tree
NaPoWriMo:Modern Dinosaurs
To a worm a blackbird Is like T rex
Haven’t you heard?
The dinosaur is in the magpies Sqwark?
In the titter tatter of bird talk
Dinosaurs have their beady eye on you
From between the leaves
Hunting and singing
Perching and swinging
Souring above your head
The rattle of a dinosaur.
NaPoWriMo: Alone sparrows
I’ve got a teenage forehead
but the rest of me has aged
I look pretty funny
but I never claimed to be anything but this mismatched man
if God is real I guess me being whole wasn’t part of the plan
God must’ve thought I could live on the edges
but look around
they’re all fenced up
ask yourself where are the birds and the hedges?
Does a bird mistake a fence for a hedge?
No, he knows.
It’s me alone with the sparrows.
Day 24: Wolf Rising
The sky was aglow in orange
through the gaps between the trees
a fireball of knowledge
setting the skies to darkness
the slow blinking eye
of a wolf rising in the north
ready to watch over the night
as the owls called forth
Merry Christmas
Day 10: Black tongues
I’m a discombobulated, disembodied
automated automaton
an assorted medley
a conglomeration
running numbers
trying to find my station
and there I was
between their eyes
caught in their squawk
at home amongst the black tongues
Advent calendar 9: Something about you
There’s something about you
that pulls me through
trudging through the winters gloom
there is a spark in your eyes
I can see myself through
you might be the light
at the end of the tunnel
if I was small enough
I’d hide in your covert feathers
and we could fly
to another muse
Advent calendar poetry 1: The woods
1st December
In the woods
grounded in rugged boots
stripped from our alienation
we stand
in communion with the others
their tails waving and teeth chattering
and beaks opening trailing out winters breath
Bills drilling, tongues rolling
snapping up a woodpeckers delight
nothing is quite the same
once you realise
even dead trees are teeming with life
Lots of Gulls will be killed if they can’t save their home!
Shut up buttercup
Shut up buttercup and lay in the grass
We’ll watch the Jays fly past
his blue feathers not so covert
the king of the oaks
Watch him fly
and gleam all that he knows
His dinosaurian voice
And moustachioed wisdom
calling to us
the harshness of reality
as we lay back on fields of yellow
soft beneath our skin
yielding to our unrelenting bodies
in this monstrous
yet wondrous world
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 