Incidental art by me.

City Starling

I am a city starling
Sores all down my legs
The dirt of urbanity
Life my freedom begs
Wings beating fast
Feathers grey on grey
Nesting in a downpipe
As the smog rolls away
Screech to the black sky
Chase in factory sheds
While little sickly offspring
Shiver in their metal beds
Dancing for a brown worm
Poking through a rusty roof
The only sorry bird we know
That is now pollution proof

Poetry by Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 128 times
Written on 2017-03-28 at 11:39

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text

Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
Dave, this is very moving. This almost brought me to tears. In contemplation, I see not only the adaption forced on the starling but what have we, the creators of all the chaos of our times, have changed about ourselves because how we are now forced or choosing to live. The sores of the bird, the greyness of the feathers, I see as metaphors of our own illnesses of mind and body. Those poor offspring so frail forced to live life as something less is so vivid in my mind as the representation of what we are leaving our own children.
Your ability to write such power metaphorical poetry is a gift and so is your "incidental art." It is good to have them matched together. :)