What if swans,
Their necks of stretching, swivelling periscopes,
Were well-intentioned,
For a second,
More Lisa Kudrow
Than tetchy Brachiosaurus,
And, forgetting that they had to threaten,
Extended you a kindly glance?
What if swans' mouths,
With rows of tiny gemstone teeth,
Glistening in the sun,
Spoke words of peace,
Without a hiss,
And thanked you for their daily bread?
What if swans' wings,
Beating rhythms across the wind,
Were really wrestlers' arms,
Chest-pumping,
In their mock triumphant show,
Their
Insecurity,
Tangled under rising feathers,
Hidden
Deep below?
What if thirsty swans,
Their orange bills ready and willing,
Though perfectly poised
With downy bottoms in the air,
Suddenly felt despair,
And went
From upended half-submerged corks
To toppling white Titanics,
Sucked and sunken under there?
What if swans were just like us,
Looking out for love,
Trying hard not to curse,
A weekend visit to the pub,
Tired, black-rimmed eyes
From nine to five,
Commuting in their fine white suits,
You'd see them on the bus...
Posted for Poetry Jam.
Wednesday, 28 November 2012
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Lessons from Trees
Last night's frantic branches now nestle, long shorn of hair, dignified in recovery. Resolute, versatile, vertical, forming your be...
-
waiting for the perfect tidal wave: a soul tsunami knuckle whitening cataclysmic change. waiting to inhabit second earth: send out sat...
-
Dogs like us... Ain't got no family trust, Lyin' around this ol' bunk shed With nothin left but to be led. They's saying...