Today, I fished up an old poem of mine that I wrote when I was eight-- a very long time ago-- titled The Bird. As far as I can remember, it was my first attempt at free verse, and while I'm pretty sure I've improved quite a bit over the past many years, I do think that the poem is cute, and somewhat respectable:
The Bird
The wind lifts into the air
A creature that's been resting
In circles it moves its wings
And gently lands on a tree
Then again it commences
The long journey it'll take
Searching for food
For the hungry stomach
It finds the food
And swoops down on it.
Pecks at the grain
Then flies away gracefully.
I remember writing it in a dusty Spanish classroom for a poetry assignment, along with other children who were using thesauruses. Those times were nice, they were.
4 comments:
Wow, this is a beautiful poem! Visual!
Good poem. I can imagine the beautiful scene very well...
Simplicity filled with views! Love it.
I like this poem a lot--even more from knowing you were only eight at the time. Excellent.
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in the wake of light, your words bring me more(please, do leave your fingerprints behind, so I may relish the image of our hands after you go.)