My tiny feathers fan out
for future flight
and strengthen
for feeding in deeper waters
fast-moving surface fish
are easy prey
the challenge is the angle of entry
for retrieving slow-moving ones.
I spend time preening
plumage from my riverside perch
patiently practicing the art
of flying,
silently gliding shifting airs -
adjusting accordingly
I am the call that echoes
through drifting clouds
I am the silence that cautiously
eyes slight movements
I am the sky-gypsy surveying clear waters
or I am that single feather that rests on old leaves
somewhere near the water’s edge.
Gamekeepers please place your weapons to rest
my best protection is
environmentally sound.
All is sacred. Air, water and earth;
it’s retreat, resist or carry the trust -
Nature knows me best.
Contra-song - a silent voice
through thermal lights now soar
The final test,
can I reach the sun?
each day I know I try ...
Author notes
I was moved by the first poem posted on Marie's home page.
becoming a mermaid © Marie Marshall, All rights reserved
http://allpoetry.com/poem/5157361
I recall the fascination when scales
first glittered on my thigh, blue-silver,
moonlight-over-sun;
morning after morning I counted them,
as each bold, tiny, night-laid plate
clothed my legs in lamellar armour
– until at last there were too many to count.
My fingers slid over the keratin;
a few cosmoid beauties came away
and shimmered on my palms.
When I noticed that my shoes bit my feet,
and the blades of grass cut like razors,
I was already less a woman,
having one day slipped into the river,
and down to the sea, coming back
for fewer hours every day.
I was more in the company
of manatees and congers,
forgetting how to speak, as the ocean
filled the caverns of my mouth and ears.
Now my hair is kelp, and
my naked breasts two limpet shells
– I am all sea creatures and sea forests,
down in the counter-currents
as the storms boil above,
loaning the krill-trails in the half-sleep of the main.
Goodbye.
With a few flicks of my cetacean tail
I will plumb the Marianas,
to bottom-out with the flatfish,
my heart slowed,
flatlining in the silence.
A contest entry
- Learn something from Mairi bheag, then post a new poem by Peripatetic.
3000 points, ended July 19, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
All comments are appreciated / answer in kind!
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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I love this one, Joy.
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Thank you for sharing that ...
I have to work hard at free verse and after reading your fine work "becoming a mermaid" I thought I take a stab at it and so your comments are appreciated and I know that I have miles to go before I sleep ... you are an inspiration to many! joy -
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Free verse can be hard work. The secret is this: say what you have to say, and say it precisely how it ought to be said.
These days I am not writing a great deal, and not posting much that I do write here on AP. I'll send you one of mine privately by IM.
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I enjoy watching ospreys fish, and their call makes me laugh until I grow used to it through a day of watching and being watched by them. To me they sound like a young dog who's just had his tail stepped on! I don't think it is funny to step on a dog, but it seems such an uncharacteristically plaintive cry from a bird of such noble bearing.
The poem speaks effectively from a young osprey's point of view. The presentation on the page yields a sense of a bird of prey's head movements as it observes and reacts to activity around it.
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i especially like the use of the page the arrangement of verses and line breaks, adds a dimension when read the eye follows and pauses ocur at just the right moments, very expressive , very skillful...PK
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Love the imagry you created here, Joy. It simply soars across the page.
I truly enjoyed the read.
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I've been fortunate enough to observe these majestic creatures in their natural habitat. Evidently, you have too. It's little wonder their praises find their way to verse on your page. Best wishes in the contest.
Sincerely,
Leo Long
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Ah, what a superb lesson
on how to become a sky-gypsy!
So visual and textural
I feel the "shifting airs,"
the fanning feathers.
Superb, joy!!!
M-C
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Very interesting launch from the poem you chose as a prompt, with the evolving osprey personification. Practical considerations add impact, as "the challenge is the angle of entry." I particularly enjoyed "silently gliding shifting airs" and "sky-gypsy surveying clear waters." Beautiful "a silent voice through thermal lights." True feathers need not fear an Icarus ending.
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Wow, very nice and with obvious sincerity to the preservation of the like. I like this line a bunch..."I am the silence that cautiously
eyes slight movements" as it took me behind the eye of the osprey into the clouds looking for a meal with stealth.
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