Tag: Poetry (Page 2 of 8)

There is a bird I’ve known for far too long
Only and only by its silken song
As much as I’ve tried to find her perch
I’ve ended up with a fruitless search

It sings melodies like a bamboo flute
While picking and eating berries and fruit
A nameless friend that brings such joy
Yet I know not if it’s a girl or boy !

But one fine day when it stopped singing
My voice, my words, they went missing
For all the penmanship, everything I wrote
Was a quote of the birdsong note for note

With a longing ear, its song did I seek
I waited for a sign many a week
In agony I wondered ‘Did I lose my muse?’
And in mourning I penned down my blues.

With that outpouring, painful and tragic
Emerged an element of elegant magic
I heard its voice note for note
The bird sang the blues I just wrote

It said, I am sorry to have disappeared
I grew afraid of thoughts you too feared
Was my spirited song, a daily drivel
Was there meaning at all in tales I tell?

Bird, I told, you are timeless art
Each of my word is a dipping dart
Aimed at pinning the essence in your song
The pursuit of all artists all along

As bright as you imagine my feathers to be
Your words are light that invite me to see
The silent surrender to art in pursuit
The beauty in song that’s beyond refute

And so we mirrored each other’s thought
Together did flow past the creative clot
We traded our thoughts as we must
And never argued about who stopped first

And we found a vision along with our sight
The bird sang aloud, fearlessly did I write
To tell tales in tandem became our resolution
And I named the nameless bird,
Inspiration.

There are times when I have got nothing to say,
And nobody to share that nothingness with.

The sun hides behind the clouds.
The rain falls, pitter-patter.
There sits a lonely dove on the cable
Awaiting someone.

I fly to that brooding bird
And proclaim,
All the truths she knows already

Again and again,
I speak
Of that feeling,
Of silently sauntering in the shimmering summer sun,
Of a restless retreat over raging rivers on a run
Of tumbling like a torpedo towards the tarmac turf
Of soaring in the sky on a slow, shy surf
Of the festive fervor in foraging for fruit
Of loving lentil left by the lintels to loot

Of picking the perfect twig for a nest
Of the relief in repose, of relishing rest

Of being in love yet being lonely
Of being lonely yet being in love

The curvy cable eavesdrops
On our candid confessions
Coated in collegial camaraderie

The wire weighs down with
the weight of two birds
It hangs low between posts,
As if smiling

The sun shines,
The rainbow smiles back
At the smiling cable
Upside down.

We,
two birds
Fly away,
alone still,
Lifted in spirit
Melded in meaning

Buoyed by
Fleeting flirtations
Of those two
silent,
sinuous
symbolic
smiles.