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Posted: **Sat Jan 03, 2009 5:47 pm**

Write a poem with the title: I can't console the crying bird.

Posted: **Sat Jan 03, 2009 6:59 pm**

It cries.

It says no more
now
than that.

It has become deaf
and no longer hears
or repeats
words that are spoken.

Perhaps it only recalls
the sound of crying,
having forgotten
the sounds of countenance,
connection and joy.

Maybe it feels the release
of its own crying,
giving voice to
what can't be said
and is okay
now
with that
as it waits
to go aloft.

Copyright 2009 by me, the author, under my legal name. All rights reserved.

P.S. I hope the challenge wasn't by someone trying to get out of doing a creative
writing exercise. That wouldn't be doing him/her any favors, if so. Anyway,
maybe other poets here will add their own poems to my "early bird" submission.

Posted: **Sat Jan 03, 2009 7:46 pm**

Here is my humble 5 minute effort which ends with 2 delicious puns, and you can spot both if you are game and French

Question- what do you do if a bird shits on your windscreen ?
Answer- dump her

I went out with this bird
Cate
this was our third
date
she shat on my car
turd
she thought it was funny
absurd
so now I play with the slang
word
you call her girl
we call her "bird"
she said she was
sorry
done it before
lorry
but on my car too
far
has to go
sentence can't be deferred
I can't console the crying bird
I didn't nintendo but she shouldn't have merde

Posted: **Sat Jan 03, 2009 10:11 pm**

whoops, out of respect for Steven I should have made it clear that unlike his work, mine is available for both theft and abuse. There is no copyright and no rights are reserved. poems on this forum are just little wriggly worms and should be eaten as soon as possible by passing birds.

as you will see from my new thingy at the side I have started a movement against pretentious claims- BIG Campaign Of Copyright Killers. Please contact me if you would like more details of my BIG Cock.

Posted: **Sun Jan 04, 2009 2:11 am**

All right Steven, for being the early bird - nicely done.

I hope the challenge wasn't by someone trying to get out of doing a creative
writing exercise. That wouldn't be doing him/her any favors

A cunning plan to get out of homework? hummm.... an odd scheme but you never know.

- - - - - -

Micheal,
don't take me wrong but that sounds like a pile of shit.

Now what I heard was that she had gotten some dating some dating advice from Byran who had told her that you might expect a favour in return for dinner - he unfortunately also, told her the story of working in the tannery and how they made the leather so nice. If only you didn't have leather seats she might have thought of a different favour.

oh well, so it goes.

Posted: **Sun Jan 04, 2009 4:31 am**

I can not console the crying bird

her man has left, he flew away
he went and found another dame.
The tap is running, the kids are whining
they want to know when he'll be coming.
She added make up, straightened
hair but still she has not moved
from off his chair.

Posted: **Sun Jan 04, 2009 4:55 am**

I cannot console the crying bird

I will wrap your heart in a gauze bandage,
sew your clothes to mine and walk us.
If the bandage is too loose, I will
pull it into narrow focus for you.
I don't know where I'll take us,
but walking helps things.
Look at the pebbles on the ground,
they go by so round and blue.
Watch your eye-water make dot.dot.dots...
along our course.
If the bandage is too tight,
you might not tell me.
I would want you to tell me.

Posted: **Mon Jan 05, 2009 1:35 pm**

I can’t con soul; that crying bird

I can’t con soul;
that crying bird
crowing through ravenous black
clawing Light
that I might scratch clear

of all that’s dark and dear
to my sleeping
feather-splayed
avoidances
of You

a buck'ling flight
through that dark night
for this Dark Knight
who cannot console
who cannot con soul.

MatbbgJ

Posted: **Mon Jan 05, 2009 7:48 pm**

So far, I like Stevens's best

. Very creatively takes you into an unthought-of space in a bird's potential world.

I love the first two lines of Manna's and, secondarily, the next two lines, as well.

Not that we're voting...

.

~ Lizzy

Posted: **Mon Jan 05, 2009 8:07 pm**

Question- what do you do if a bird shits on your windscreen ?

:gasp:
Michael! You use curse words?

Hi, Lizzy
I'm glad you liked some of mine.
I like Steven's too.

Posted: **Tue Jan 06, 2009 7:01 am**

Cate wrote:
Write a poem with the title: I can't console the crying bird.

There are birds around here
some caged some free
some wounded and some can fly
I looked and i looked and I never saw one cry
You can console a city
I did it with a word
I would do it again
if i ever saw
a crying bird

Posted: **Wed Jan 07, 2009 5:10 am**

I like the insight in Stevens, the funny in Michaels (which I choose to interpret as him telling me the story rather then me being the perp., impossible since he has never once invited me to his car, humph ), I like the love in Manna's, especially the line I would want you to tell me, the word play in Mats, and wondering what the word was in Jacks.
There is at least one missing though, the person who left me the challenge has not put one in the pot - hint, hint Adrian.

Posted: **Wed Jan 07, 2009 7:50 am**

Hi Cate,

Thanks to you for posting the challenge. Also, thanks to you and those who had
kind words about my poem and those of others. I like this thread.

Hi Jack,

I also wonder what the word that consoled a city could be.

Posted: **Wed Jan 07, 2009 9:38 am**

Steven wrote:Hi Cate,

Thanks to you for posting the challenge. Also, thanks to you and those who had
kind words about my poem and those of others. I like this thread.

Hi Jack,

I also wonder what the word that consoled a city could be.

I haven't seen Jack's as, for dull historical reasons, his posts are set not to show on my computer. So I may have the context all wrong, but presumably a city needs consolation when it is feeling town.

Posted: **Wed Jan 07, 2009 9:44 am**

Cate wrote:I like the funny in Michaels ,which I choose to interpret as him telling me the story rather then me being the perp., impossible since he has never once invited me to his car, humph

Cate, we joined the Mile-High Club when "I took you up in my aeroplane, which I flew without any licence", we joined the Mile-Below Club " when I took you down in my submarine which I flew without any wings", but I am never going to invite you to my car until you stop calling me Hump. Down on your knees, Girl- and call me Lord (and don't speak with your mouth full).

Sir Lord Mickey of One

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