Thursday, May 03, 2007

Another Feather

Another feather
Flutters and falls
From fingers
Fickle and cruel
That pull or pluck
Twist and tug
Till wings
Are stripped and bare
But that’s what lovers do
Bind and clip
With innocent joy


Crafty Green Poet said...

do all lovers do that? Do we do that unconsciously even if we try not to do it consciously?

Inconsequential said...

I think everyone does it.
too everyone.
it's human nature to alter things to our own preference.

wendy said...

like lovebirds.

ish said...

Neatly set. The paradox that freedom to love (or freedom of any sort) can only exist by submission to 'bind and clip'. I suspect something is amiss however if out of the 'cruel pluck' another more glorious set of plumage does not emerge.

cocaine jesus said...

spot on and so true

Jay said...

That's a pretty dismal outlook.

Sherry Snowdrop said...


But love can let you fly as well sometimes.

Inconsequential said...

Love doesn't let you fly.
It makes you fall.
what else is a journey with pain at the end?
either a crash or fall...

R said... is always an ornithologist's dream. It takes us up to wonderful places. New plumage. Lovely cloud views. Soft air.

Look up Inc, always look up.

Inconsequential said...

look up indeed :)

and whilst staring heavenward in obscure bliss

the ground reaches out and takes you

hard and heavy
gritty rape muddy penetration
as you slam
into it
as sky deserts you

R said...

Sometimes even the mud can be fun though. Reptilian states are sometimes great.

Mud pie anyone?

R said...

Sky never deserts you anyhow. Rainbows make all skies colourful.

Inconsequential said...

Wonderful optimist.


R said...

Yes, always an optimist.

I write words on bellies,
Words on the sky.

They say that the sky is the limit, but I'm not so sure. Higher Inc, higher.

Inconsequential said...

take it to the max
and beyond :)