Bird box

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a bird exists inside this five-foot box
made for beak and wing, miked for flying
acoustics to record. More music-box
than detention centre, oscine than vying
gulls pursuing some flung chip. Now trying
by bird-bloke translation a memo shows
that only this metaphor released knows

poetry’s mystery – why squeeze wild thought
into tiny containers? So nearly broken,
to high headland climbs our poet overwrought.
Leads unplugged, the top I slowly open
and peer inside this padded cell hopin’
for an answer. While wild waves crash hard below
imagined wings departed long ago.


Image – Oval-shaped fusee-driven movement by Jaquet-Droz & Leschot, ca. 1790. by Jafd88 (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons. Written for dverse, the poets’ pub where Frank has asked us to write a Chaucerian verse (this ain’t one).

9 thoughts on “Bird box

  1. SMILING I AM! Very late to the reading of Thursday’s posts….but SO glad I’m reading yours. Hmmmm YESSSS….as a free-verse kind of gal, that’s exactly what I feel like when I have to start counting syllables on my fingers…and then add accented beats into the mix…and they looking up rhyming words that don’t sound like “roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you”….HAH! This is the perfect metaphor. Soooo well done! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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