Birds twitter in my ear,
my  begging palm opens
expecting metaphors to flutter
down like fire flies, settle softly
on  my life line.
From here I can see the river Delta,
a dark green tarpaulin stretched over
the hemisphere.  It’s murky  waves
reflect on fleeting clouds.
Suspended here in the boredom of life,
sinking in ruins of  past lovers with out
consolation to soothe them,
what’s left of words is refuse,
A cache of cliche, the bitter rind of orange
gnawed and  tossed away.
Where is my simile of stars?
A metaphor of sea oats,
the delicate wings of melodramatic
birds caged in my throat?
Imprisoned beneath  footprints,
the crumbling leaves of winter
grieving debridement.

 

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Artist Unknown

 

86 thoughts on “Metaphor of Birds

  1. Exquisite! This is a jewel, Holly! It inspires. ❤
    I open my hand. I see the life line. I hear no song of birds.
    Yet, there are imprints, footprints and the fingerprints left of my crime.
    You have opened my door.
    I wish a bird would fly in
    Singing.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. You again leave me speechless with your powers of your talent with words, Holly. I honesty could dive in this poem and stay there for a long time, digesting word by word what you wrote. And what Resa wrote? Brilliant as you are! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

    Liked by 1 person

  3. What intrigued me about this poem is everyone in its intense stunning visuals
    and these lines:

    “A metaphor of sea oats,
    the delicate wings of melodramatic
    birds caged in my throat?”

    So surrealistic and I picture the caged birds in one’s throat. Beautifully well written. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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