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| Image by Theo Dapore |
Where are my robins?
Mornings I reach with spindly,
rigid limbs to bleached skies,
searching strength, hope of return,
lashed by winter’s rejection.
Imprisoned in cell pods red tattooed ink,
hope for restoration flutters blue - green redemption,
orange breasted ballets;
Oh, the chorus of my babies and not frigid flat notes of taunting winds. Comeback, my robins, and nest within my arms. I’m weary this lonely season.
8 comments:
Our yearning for spring and it's reinvigorating glory is fully captured here.
Just beautiful - such colour, imagery and yearning.
The suffering is tangible in this poem.
Good work!
sadness and loneliness come across strongly in this
A lonely longing beautifully explored through the chilled worlds that stubbornly deny the emergence of Spring's relief!
This is a vivid colorful exploration in verse; however it is clearly not blank verse. This is truly free verse and well written free verse but free verse all the same. Thanks for linking and I hope this helps.
Love the imagery and colorful feel to the piece.
Well chosen imagery and a fine poem.
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