Tell me little bird, what is it you see?
When flying by her garden is she there,
what keeps her solitary, far from me,
like this estate, forsaken, winter-bare?
Fret not, young lover, she is not alone,
she often ambles in the afternoon.
Her happiness is certain, never moan!
She dances lightly to a happy tune.
Little bird, your words are like a knife
which slashes at my heart! So little care
she shows to me, to whom she promised life -
a broken promise! You have brought despair.
Oh ardent heart, your loss can do no harm,
but show that love was not upon this way.
Through grief to joy, my song shall be your charm!
Be sure new love will comfort your dismay.
A grief it surely is, I'm over-set.
I see your reason, I shall grieve a while
for youth and innocence, my friend; and yet,
when love returns, that day we both shall smile.
Author notes
For the contest prompt, 'Tell me little bird, what is it that you see?'
Picture from the contest.
A contest entry
- Tell me little bird by Wilma Winkie.
600 points, ended February 17, 2009, 12 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Thank you for reading.
Comments
1 - 20 of 20
-
My first thought, as I was reading stanza one and two, was of the robin in "The Secret Garden". Your young lover seeking wisdom from the bird on the garden wall harkens back to Mary asking the robin to show her the way in.
Then Stanza three, the tone turns. Where I read hope in the first stanza I now see the real tone.
I like the way you contrast the wisdom and future joy of the little bird with the heartbreak of the young man.
Lovely story.
-
Love, that longing for sweet companionship and warmth, even when apart. This garnered the gold, as it well should. I love the truth in it, because we often grieve for a place that would have only caused more pain. Cupid is more than blnd. Love is not! ~ Karen
-
Love's an illusion, lol Sorry.
Grieve and get over it. Over-simplified sure but that is how the process works. Move on, find another love, and make it stronger than before. Works for me.
You talk to little birds, I chat with buzzards. I'm not sure what that means but I like it.
You know what I really hate? Not in your poem, in life...when I keep asking that little bird about what it sees. Eventually I shoot the bird so it can't tell me. A part of that moving on process.
But life is good, I am happy, the little bird sits on my window sill and just tells me jokes. He does no spying for me. Smart bird!
-
-
Funny, birds see in radius, and they know when to fly. People have some peripheral vision, but it's not the same. Love is all that is not illusion. "It looks not with eye, but with the Mind." And the only way to overcome an illusion is to know the facts.
-
Thank you Mayne, your trouble with birds is legendary; jokes are fine.
-
-
Simply beautiful and soft in its sharing ...
as always, yet powerful in its wisdom.
It is so good reading you again. Thank you for this lovely little interlude in my busy schedule.
Hallo Margaret ... How are you?
Love
Myra
-
-
Thanks Myra, it is my pleasure knowing of yours.
-
-
Astute, lovely, hopeful, fifty better words, I send all the most choice comparisons, the flightiest fancy, the joy in the end of its reading!
Terry
-
-
Thanks Terry, it is uncommon to see your words escaping.
-
-
I love this. It reminds me of The Happy Prince, by Oscar Wilde, in which the swallow flies around the city and brings the blind prince news of what is happening in his kingdom. It is a story which I could never read aloud without (embarrassingly) dissolving into tears towards the end. If you don't know it, it's well worth a read. And keep smiling!
http://fiction.eserver.org/short/happy_prince.html
Thanks for an excellent and moving poem. K. -
-
Thank you Keith, you enrich my life with your knowledge of literature.
-
-
That's a lovely thing to say, Margaret. Many thanks,
-
-
-
Dear Margaret,
"Is my girl happy,
that I thought hard to leave,
and has she tired of weeping
as she lies down at eve?"
Ay, she lies down lightly,
she lies not down to weep:
your girl is well contented.
Be still, my lad, and sleep.
"Is my friend hearty,
now I am thin and pine,
and has he found to sleep in
a better bed than mine?"
Yes, lad, I lie easy,
I lie as lads would choose;
I cheer a dead man's sweetheart.
Never ask me whose.
from A.E. Houseman "A Shropshire Lad."
BRAVO! and best of luck in the contest.
Love and hugs, XXX. Hugh.
-
-
Thank you Hugh, for bringing the poem of Houseman to my attention, it is like that. True love is not hurtful and jealous, that is how you know. (Gold)
-
-
This is lovely and a pure delight to read. You composed the imagery to flow from stanza to stanza flawlessly and carried my emotions with it. Letting the little bird teach us of love is truly a brilliant take on the prompt.
Love,
Amera♥
-
-
Thank you Amera, your comment made me smile.
-
-
Your poem is ...
riddled with meanings and metaphors and I pondered over it several times and will probably muse over it some more. I sensed that when there is a question that the answer is never easy and yet the journey brings an astute awareness for the result. Smile, somebody loves you! j y
-
-
Thank you Joy, it was quite plain to me, of course!
-
-
Exquisite pen!
*Whoot!**Wheet!* Good morning! *tweet!*
The cycle of the Nature's seasons paralling Man's seasons is a favorite metaphor of mine. Winter is cold and barren, dismal, sad even as if grieving for a life that has died, and yet holds the blessed knowledge that spring will come again. Man passes each season and winter of course is being old and counting each breath until the end, but also it's an ending to one part of life, the emotions that are sad and grieving, and like nature hold the ability of renewl to another blessed spring, Happiness and love.
I so loved the conversational aspect of this. Your conclusion of hope was wonderful. It was like a child talking to their Sage grandmother, and with her advice, hope is reborn.
The rhyme is wonderful and your pentameter is near flawless. On line 9 you diverted to tetrameter, but it didn't hinder the flow.
This read so wonderful aloud and sang softly like a nightingale. Be proud of this piece!
Thank you for joining me on my maiden voyage contest, best wishes!
*tweet!*
-
-
Thank you very much for your gifts of approval and the top prize. I'm touched by your insight and appreciation of this poem.
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 20 of 20
