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so close to hellcat
- Thread starter Ganesha
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Photo from our trip to Plum Island, Ma. One of the warbler boardwalks is named Hellcat. Every morning we made haste to Hellcat. In total we saw 98 species of birds.
A. Hamilton
here for a minute...catch me?
Kind Benefactor
Poetry Book Collaborator
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98! impressive, not just that there were that many, but that you counted them..are you a birdwatcher as a hobby?
Our shadows burned there still
as night descended.
And a myriad of wings in burst
to keep us re-invented.
Leaping out to Hell's Gate
we chose our own divinity,
made shadows of ourselves in play
and lost our minds to beauty
somewhere soft along the way.
as night descended.
And a myriad of wings in burst
to keep us re-invented.
Leaping out to Hell's Gate
we chose our own divinity,
made shadows of ourselves in play
and lost our minds to beauty
somewhere soft along the way.
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KTC, I hope it's okay that I ran with your poem into my poem
Our shadows lay
within the night
small white feathers fell gently
from our invention
wings of wax, string and molted bits
divinity chose us
after the dazzling play of light
we became, become, becoming
neatly folded into one
within the night
small white feathers fell gently
from our invention
wings of wax, string and molted bits
divinity chose us
after the dazzling play of light
we became, become, becoming
neatly folded into one
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http://www.parkerriver.org/
Every year during the migration of birds, especially warblers, we take our vacation on or near Plum Island. Last year we saw over 120 birds- so you see this year the count was down. This year we stayed for 10 days- which is absolutely the longest we have done yet. I would like to work ourselves up to a month. I may have to wait till my retirement. During this time we live, eat, dream and follow the winged ones.
This year there where two storms that created huge wind gusts and large waves. So the birds hunkered down or didn't fly in. They fly with a south wind and mostly at night. We were blessed with a few days of warblers: Black-throated Blue, Black-throated Green, Magnolia, Northern Parula, Yellow, Yellow-rump,Chestnut-sided, Black-and-white, and American Redstart.
The floors on which we stand,
so pale beside the meek:
the timelessness of sand,
picked over by the beak.
Our feet a sheltered pair,
designed to walk the rough.
Breathe unconditioned air;
eat only just enough.
Our structures such a ruse,
beguiling ears and eyes.
What fake, inverted zoos,
with brief, fragmented skies.
Count birds and brace the fall;
walk barefoot, carefree miles.
Weigh time by shadows' fall,
and day's success in smiles.
so pale beside the meek:
the timelessness of sand,
picked over by the beak.
Our feet a sheltered pair,
designed to walk the rough.
Breathe unconditioned air;
eat only just enough.
Our structures such a ruse,
beguiling ears and eyes.
What fake, inverted zoos,
with brief, fragmented skies.
Count birds and brace the fall;
walk barefoot, carefree miles.
Weigh time by shadows' fall,
and day's success in smiles.
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p.s. I hope this is okay for me to poem you back
pale mended moonglasses
shadows within black
you reflected my light
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Watching the Watchers
Large lumbering
shadow creatures,
gape and gawk
as if waiting for us
to perform
Perhaps I'll poop on them.
Large lumbering
shadow creatures,
gape and gawk
as if waiting for us
to perform
Perhaps I'll poop on them.
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hey, I am wading in after you on this poem
waiting for waders I await on one
long lean lumps
outlined with sand
crabs scramble sideways
as if eating with you
I masticate
then defecate #2
waiting for waders I await on one
long lean lumps
outlined with sand
crabs scramble sideways
as if eating with you
I masticate
then defecate #2
I wonder
if they regret not having hands
yet know the answer
deep in my soul
and in my envy
cast a stone
watch them scatter
wishing I too
could fly
if they regret not having hands
yet know the answer
deep in my soul
and in my envy
cast a stone
watch them scatter
wishing I too
could fly
Blue shadows stretch on the sand
covering the mark of a small hand and
a scrape, a depression
where that child couldn't resist
picking up the moon-colored bits
that clung to a small palm.
Mother or Father calls
drop the treasure that clumps
fallen and forgotten
tiny particles taken away
the sand remembers.
covering the mark of a small hand and
a scrape, a depression
where that child couldn't resist
picking up the moon-colored bits
that clung to a small palm.
Mother or Father calls
drop the treasure that clumps
fallen and forgotten
tiny particles taken away
the sand remembers.
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Please let me know if you, Teena, like me having a dialogue with your poem.
I wonder
if they lament not having wings,
my question-
off the top of my sleek skull
taxes my little brain,
flying over I cast scat
then watch them disburse,
One day I hope
to run like the humans
I wonder
if they lament not having wings,
my question-
off the top of my sleek skull
taxes my little brain,
flying over I cast scat
then watch them disburse,
One day I hope
to run like the humans
Ganesha, I like 'poetisation' [poetry-conversation]. Thanks for choosing mine. Here's my reply.
to soar with intermittent waving
or to race with staccato drumming
the soul of the being
wants the same:
to exchange
and experience
the other's world
to soar with intermittent waving
or to race with staccato drumming
the soul of the being
wants the same:
to exchange
and experience
the other's world