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The Songbird

The Songbird
Ohio, USA
August 22
I am a mechanical bird. I fly, dive, and flutter about things, curious, ... yet -- I am but a machine. I am the product of the times I came into. All is mechanical. My clockwork works - exactly. You can see by the meter of my words that something is precise about me. I know not why; I am not the Originator of these things. They only come to me. They tick, or they whirr, or they may, by chance, chime. No matter - I hear, and respond to them. I myself am quite delighted by these Missives that come my way, and my dearest love is the language I came in with, English. It isn't the words themselves; more - it is the very capability of being able to iterate what I have been given to feel.


The Songbird's Links

MARCH 14, 2012 12:59PM


Rate: 5 Flag

you hate me now, because i fought for you.
but i fought because i saw your soul.
i knew you needed a comrade, a love,
to hold a space for you, to enfold.

when i met you, your life was spinning,
of course you did not know what would come.
there is shock, disbelief, and then terror,
when your anchor, your Mother, is gone.

there are stages that are meant to protect you.
you said the right words to me.
that you knew she loved the life she lived,
and you were at peace with having her leave.

but the time did not always jibe with that.
i could see all your friends gather round.
they love you, they care, and look up to you,
and they did not want you to run aground.

and so you all do the Guy Thing,
it is tradition, strength, and belief.
that you have to hold on to your buddies,
because it’s special, the time to grieve.

i think you loved me because i knew this.
i’ve seen it so much in my life.
while the girls make food and cry together,
the fellas make toasts, to divulge what’s inside.

eyes, knowing, a few hugs here and there,
gritted teeth, over the inevitability of passing.
all shared, in a nuance of ritual,
with those whom the friendship is lasting.

it’s so important to have bridges.
it’s so important to have arms.
even brief hugs of reason,
dispel the ache of alarm.

everyone knows these crossroads.
when a parent leaves, there is much in that wake.
what will my life be now?  who will i become?
without my anchor to what i thought was my place?

because Place shifts, and without warning.
Life just -- does a rearrange.
and your new place will come about slowly,
you have to be cognizant to see the change.

in you, i saw grand affection.
in you, i saw many draw near.
for from the outside, you’re the strong one,
but what’s inside is what they hold dear.

you hold yourself up with great honor.
you live by your tribe’s beliefs.
at least that’s what i saw in the man in you,
in fact, it’s what gave me release.

i fell in such love with this person,
this man, embraced as I myself am.
it’s a key, a note, an interest,
to see another live the very life they planned.

it’s a dovetail that needs no introduction.
it was instant, we just fell into step.
our dreams and aspirations were mutual,
so we just fashioned a together as the quest.

in me, i believed, i nurtured.
i put all my gears in that slot.
i wanted to move forward, finally, with you,
you embodied all the riches i ever sought.

to have a fine hand with your artwork.
to have your vision reflect your soul.
and to feel the tickle of your satisfaction,
when a piece you’ve made is sold.

passing along the finery,
accepting others that have the same place.
the art and artistry of living Life
with all the trappings, and beliefs you save.

i too am a collector of ideas and ideals.
i try to fashion my own way to Be.
i learn from each hitch or each coupling,
what does and doesn’t work for me.

i wonder on the way we are designed,
so that we never really see our Selves.
no, we perceive who we are by expressions,
reactions, in the trust of someone else.

like mirrors, we raise tongues or eyebrows,
if you are accused, you bristle as blamed,
but the more you try to defend your Self,
it seems you only deepen your shame.

“only dubious truths need defending”
is what the master Alan Watts once said.
but it stayed with me, indelible,
so i try to let my actions speak instead.

but with you i ran into a malestrom
of both embracing and letting go.
and when you came to me, in this fashion,
i just had to let you know.

that for me, i was just in a distance.
i have already crossed that bridge twice.
losing both my parents in my lifetime,
and i only wanted to befriend, to guide.

but something came unhinged one day,
when i myself had a need.
i found i was not allowed to reach for you,
the way that you had reached for me.

you were angered that i asked you to linger.
you were mad that i asked you to stay.
i guess that means you didn’t know my own need,
sprouted from that love in me that you laid.

you can’t know me well, either.
i realize now, from this distance you’ve caused.
you just shut down from answer,
interrupt.  disconnect.  pause.

so the feelings i held belched out into my lap,
what passion, what fever pitch.
left, the bridge exploded, the unhinging,
the continuum of silence’s hitch.

it causes wonder, justifications, and - questions.
what in the world went awry?
how can you travel, soul to soul in endeavor,
only to be left, bereft inside?

Justice rears her ugly head,
with feathers and eggs, in opposites, to weigh.
but to endeavor this is to reason with a Ghost;
Words and Silence have the same place.

checkerboards,  skillful moves,
or simple just playing around.
the imperceptible gate that opens up,
makes no matter, who’s victor, who’s clown.

interplay.  recognition.
is it only for a brief little time?
is it too much to live with every day,
is it too difficult to just be aligned?

and so it goes, it ebbs and flows,
lots of tethers get cut, thrown away.
never knowing the real Truth of the matter,
only the Loss, and the Possibility to weigh.

and so you dream a new Dream.
and you incorporate all that you’ve learned.
and each time you open up again,
you will find that the wellspring returns.



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I have faith in your wellspring,
it is bottomless and and full
you are flowing with understanding
and love, pure love
rated with love
Songbird - wow. The sheer amount of gorgeous rhyming in this piece is just astounding. The meter and the sounds are utterly beautiful.
The words themselves make me ache for you. I know this well...just know you have someone here who thinks often of you and is always wishing you good things and positive energy. Rated with admiration for all of your talents, all of your wisdom, and all of your insight.
Alli, Alli, Oxen Free. Tab, You're It. One Potata, Two Potata. You always get it, gal. I love that. It's good to be grok'd, and it makes it easier each time to say what weighs out when the springboard of Response is there. Thanks, as always, for your encouragements and sparkles.
Thank you, Michelle. I appreciate your sweet voice as well. We have some kindred threads, still running. I've been away, but only in typing; not in thought. Tx again, babe.
the water over here is always just right for sipping or swimming
even though there are bridges lost and twice crossed...

the artwork (como siempre) is boss.

The moon is raining, it seems.
Hi, 22. The Moon is raining it seems. You know, I toyed with that, but to me it is watering. "Watering dream seeds, planted long ago.." which refers back to a pome I wrote when I was about 16. So, it was cool too see that again, depicted, as I picked my way through this, yet another mire. But still .. she swims. It took some looking to find the other arms, that buoy her, in a downstroke. Sip, aah. Yes. Thank you, sweets.
Ah my lady, reminds me of the Byrds song - Turn, Turn, Turn.
You have exposed yourself well. Rated :-)
I have trouble reading a poem this long because of my eyes but what I read had power and could be transformed into a song...
Hello, Jali, Patrick.. Yes, this was a tale. But it does sorta read in a sing-song, doesn't it! Oh well, my brain works that way.. Thanks, much!
watering, like from a watering can...that is just what it looks like.
and the supporting arms on the downstroke...brilliant!

we must swim, we must sprout again...spout, too.
Oh, I like that - sprout, and spout! No drought, no doubt! Uh-oooh...there she goes again. Yes, those other arms - interesting, yes?
"i too am a collector of ideas and ideals.
i try to fashion my own way to Be.
i learn from each hitch or each coupling,
what does and doesn’t work for me."

This is a wonderful poem and very wise! Keep on keeping on, my darling friend! I love you!
Thanks, Angel"kithes." I like your new piece too. I'm just
wordy. Sigh. Love ya back.