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—silhouettes for their perch
—silhouettes for their perch
as if songbirds have
nowhere to stay for the
winter
the malcontents, too,
in the dizzying streets
stagger
if a forlorn hope is all
there is in my palm,
I figured birds can die,
yet while still alive and warm
the heat in the skin
would subside
but the pain is something
we never could hide
and if birdhouses are
for them—with feathers
fighters, rebels, our own
brothers can't be
perchers
because I live only—
to see them left in the lurch
and all those tree branches
—silhouettes for their perch
The poem conveys some amazing
The poem conveys some amazing insights.
Starward
Thank you, sir.
Like mentioned to you time and again, I am grateful for it and for the indulgent comments that I am receiving while going through my own work myself (as I learn more about the English literature itself or its related grammar). I wanted to take this opportunity to also inform you that I'm initially unable to reply before (i.e once I was back online to recheck my inbox in my usual workdays) when I have just received a comment—in that long stretch—while you already had given it, due to I have not attended to it in earnest (although a notification was e-mailed to me, found in the periphery while parsing my other e-mails, whenever it, i.e. PostPoems, automatically sends those notices) around the abrupt time when you just did give me a truthful comment in a single line. That's because I'm out and about & was busy with city life demands and with my multiple jobs at the time.
Until here, as I try to go around with language use, learning more on it (meter, essence, rhythmic flow, and the formality involved in poetry..et al), I am quite humbled.. (with self-deprecation, admittedly).