I found a spent black buzzard feather
On freshly manicured lawn
I could tell it was a black buzzard feather
Though it had been through a spinning steel storm
It lay broken under cedar tree
At the end of its destiny
I wondered, to whom did it belong?
With its splintered broken keel
And no way for it to heal
Its days of soaring flight
At lofty angel's height
Were surely gone
And as I watched a single
Broken black buzzard feather
A sparrow flew down from willow tree
She held it tight for one last flight
To a bowl of collected debris
And she sang as she worked
Weaving feathers, sticks and mud
And she sang as she worked
Weaving feathers, sticks and mud
And she sang as she worked
Weaving feathers, sticks and mud
Till she had made a home
Author notes
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNqw2ssYXC8
I still believe
A contest entry
- Bring Me Hope... by PerfectImperfection.
900 points, ended October 14, 2008, 20 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 14 of 14
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Images..
Great images here, and I liked the progression of the piece - Especailly the repetition at the end '
And she sang as she worked....'
A wonderful write here.
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miss you
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Your imagery in this is quite stunning, but it is the deeper meaning that I found uplifting as I read this while i eat my breakfast. You replied to a comment further down the page which nailed this for me.
A wonderful read...thank you
Sue x
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This is interesting...it's the little things, that bring it home, that mean the most when it comes to hope. It's funny (funny interesting, not funny 'ha ha') - on the verge on despair, when you'll look for any positive sign...it's always something so small that gives you belief.
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nice - from the particular to the universal, and showing how even leftover bits can have a new life, give shelter.
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Superb plus
Ah, 'tis a fine write, indeed. Imagery, rhythm and rhyme are just fine. Thanks for the heads up on this one. I really like it.
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There is such a beauty to be found within these lines, thoughtful and well penned. Hope can indeed find a way to weave a way back to 'home' Thank you for your entry!
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yay !!!
you got me with this poem ...
I looooooooooove birdies ... and how beautifully you speak about a single feather, its origin, destiny and final wonderful mission ...
I am speechless ...
this is so touching ...
thank you so much,
marion
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The endless circle of life
As we get older we think more about this.
Jim
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Another poem that I don't really understand how it fits into the contest but aside from the contest;
this was amazing. it told a neatly woven story - but very visually so i could see it all as it played out!
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It is a simple symbolic story about finding life in death and using the things at hand to improve. It is about memories and reassurance.
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Beautiful work ...
how sorrow can be woven into healing, to make a home ...! I loved this poem and the repetition ... I can see the industrious little sparrow, weaving her nest from sun, feathers, sticks and mud.
And songs combined with work is just about the most lovely way of working and weaving anyone can do ... Here in South Africa we surely knows about songs and working. My mother and grandmother always sang hymns when working.
Ah Benjamin. You know the simple formula for happiness. Thank you for sharing it.
Love
Myra
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