21 08 2012

His head is scooped in the dip
of the matress, he kicks his knees
to explore familiar space.
Milked knuckles cuddle angry gums
then starling eyes search mine out
in the gloom.

I comb his feathers with an open hand and, while he is distracted
by curtains ghosting in the breeze,
I tease his mobile into sound.



7 responses

21 08 2012

lyrs only &
the ore

21 08 2012

Did you see the weekly writing challenge post on wordpress? I think you may get some joy with it.

26 08 2012

This poem is a joy to the senses and to the instincts.
It says love with such perfection. I could write pages
about how this poem pleases me and still not say as
much as you’ve managed in these lines.

Art such as this is the reason poetry will not die.

Did I say I love it? I do!

27 08 2012

I wasn’t sure whether the poem was done or needed another stanza. In honesty, it frustrated me that i didn’t switch the stanzas around so it didn’t begin so lazily. Now though you’ve made me content about it. Thanks for the kind words.

27 08 2012

Wow… (that’s a word I hardly ever use!) Written so well, wonderfully thought out. I’d give you more words in a comment, but I can’t fathom how a compliment could convey the thanks I have that you’ve shared this.

For me, poetry’s usually subversive. At times, seemingly cruel or uncaring. So, thank you creating something so ordinary, so full of joy.

29 08 2012

The last words of your comment are as good as any of those in the poem. Thank you and i agree with your comments about poetry. Entirely.

10 11 2012

Dear Glyn, I was sure I had liked this, when it was written, because I did.
I’m having technical glitches at WordPress, and thought to see if you had
written more than I know of…and see I must remain patient. There is no need
to reply. Wish you all well.

Jay (aka n)

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