With my apologies to Mrs. ebird--these are not the same kind of birds. :)


Birds in a Press

These fabulous birds
decay so fast

Big gold earrings
Flat metallic curls

Shiny Skin
Loud Voice

Long nails stripped or shimmering
or flecked with star dust

Gold edge teeth
These girls are destined to burn bright
and hot and go out early

In six years' time
condensed to middle aged

childbearing every year or two
going without thinking of the choices
or the possibilities.

Birds in a press
crush down to fabulous gilt quilt
of jungle color

Moist With the glue of internal organs
And edged with the wet beadwork of tears and sweat

Stuck with chewing gum
to some big machine

Moving so fast,
fast moving machine made of metal
and men
and time.
~Ashe




Poetry by Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 367 times
Written on 2015-08-31 at 19:43

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



Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
We've all seen great numbers of them. They seem to get onto television a lot more often these days.
2015-09-01


Coo & Co The PoetBay support member heart!
No need to apologise, Ashe; we appreciate these are not the same birds as @BirdBrains :>)
That said, our FT did feel a twinge of recognition as we read the vivid description of the girls. For FT had a few years of burning bright herself before illness prevailed. She would frequent nightclubs bedecked in glitter, for example, and she does not recall considering her possibilities much. Those were not thinking times!
The crush, when it occurs, causes us to wince a little and it seems we hear the old whirr of FTs sewing machine, which she used to fasten lines of sequins to various clothes. We wince further at mention of internal organs and sweat. All in all, it is a very powerful poem. Applause!
2015-09-01


Arunesh dixit
Thank you for such a good poem. I especially loved two lines - "These girls are destined to burn bright
and hot and go out early"
and other one - "Moist With the glue of internal organs
And edged with the wet beadwork of tears and sweat"..
These are some realities of "Birds", they don't have choices and don't have time to look for any possibility, they simply stuck to machines (men, metal, or time). This poem has the art of poetry in awesome way.

Regards,
Arunesh Dixit
2015-09-01


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
wow. i know "wow" isn't exactly lit. crit., but my goodness, what a poem, what images! i could feel the goopy entrails.

these birds don't have a chance, not a prayer.
2015-09-01