The Urbanisation of Birds
Flitting between skyscapes the distant strains of multitudes flicker in the air. Hidden voices perched in ebbing hues that fade into the greys. Their covert
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Flitting between skyscapes the distant strains of multitudes flicker in the air. Hidden voices perched in ebbing hues that fade into the greys. Their covert
Glassy eyes stare down from vibrant yellow crowns, solemn statues lined up for shady shopping trips to markets masked with colour. Wild or caught traded
Rising heat wrinkles your feathers, hazy offerings that prick the skin and dull desires. Smouldering beneath the surface, your blood-streaked cloak of darkest night lies
Torn from the sky we clipped your wings to buy safe passage; broken bodies lovingly preserved with a tenderness denied in flight. We stole shadows
Moving swiftly across the swamp the sparrow tentatively spreads out his territory; a phonic palisade, which he surveys with vain conviction. Contented in solitude, he
In swathes of fractured colours you wheel across unbroken skies, a kaleidoscope of memory drifting between seasons; patterns shifting sensitively to the subtleties of scale.
Beneath shadows Of Spring Mountains The rain dove arcs Across a barren sky, Its trembling shadow Rolling listlessly Above abandoned towns Of silver and gold,
Sea air shimmers in the evening haze; The gentle rays from a setting sun Reflect the remnants of the passing storm, Cascading skywards in prismic
Sailing swiftly along the salted seashore, Your whiteish throat flanks brown streaks That accentuate comedic orange brows. Amongst saline marshes and sunken reeds You build
An incendiary flash of colour – Your violent hues scatter the scrub; We watch as you forage for food, Using your casque like a fork.