- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Memory Like Instinct
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Crows,
not Heckel or Jekyll
personified cartoon reductions
perched elbow wing leaning
on a cane, bird mocking
dissuaders of flight,
but living predatory instinct
swoops to breach calm skies
or poises in the breezy distance,
still save the hooded oval
of inhuman eyes
that capture.
My imagination is imperfect
as a fallen feather, fleeting
as the shadow on a cloud.
If they spoke to me I only
heard a shiny creak of memory,
brittle, departed once upon
a naked tree.
- COMMENTS
Syndra Lynnover 18 years agoReally nice images, the last stanza was grand! But this is the best :
My imagination is imperfect
as a fallen feather, fleeting
as the shadow on a cloud.
