The Journey of a Bird.

[misterreplicant]

I'm beginning poetry kind of, I'm an amateur... It doesn't rhyme, it's like a ballad. Here it goes...


The Journey of a Bird
by MisterReplicant

I awake from a dark place,
I cannot see at all,
I feel a soft barrier in front of me,
so I attempt to break it.

The light is blinding,
A vast world sits before my eyes,
I lay on small, soft, coiled brown stick,
As I look above me, I see a big feathered animal.

I am fed by this feathered beast,
I begin to like it, to an extend.
After a while, it pushes me out of my bed.
I do not hit the ground, but glide, like a leaf.

My trek comes to a halt when I tire,
I reach the ground, which is soft too, thankfully.
I cannot find the animal that was feeding me,
I am on my own now.

I wobble around on the ground and fly when I can,
I am working on my endurance.
I look at myself, feathers?
I remember the beast that fed me.

I have learned to use my wings for protection,
Flying away from disastrous four legged animals.
I find my way into a place with very hard ground,
And giants, with two legs, staring at me.

I find a two-legged giant sitting on a giant block
I fly over near it.
The giant throws white food at me,
I fly away, scared and confused.

I find my way back to the soft, green ground
But, I see wooden stakes on all four sides of me.
I see a giant run towards me,
As I lift off the ground to flee, I feel a tear in my tiny leg.

I am helpless on the ground,
The giant walks over to me. Is this the end?
The giant, talks to me.
I cannot understand.

I am carefully picked up and place in a box, inside.
My burial?
Inside the box is soft.
I sleep.

I awaken on a cold, hard ground.
The box laying next to me.
The giant comes running in again.
Did you do this to me?

I am picked up by a four legged beast
And dragged outside,
The two-legged giant runs after the beast, screaming.
The four-legged beast digs with his feet, into the soft ground.

I feel liquid spilling out of me.
I am scared, I cannot escape this monster's teeth.
The two-legged giant just stares and screams, doing nothing.
I look at the ground and see a deep hole.

I am placed in the hole,
I try to fly out.
Before I can, the animal lays the ground on top of me.
I become cold.

I think of the winged animal that fed me
And of the two-legged food-thrower
And, finally of the giant who placed me in a box.
I drift off to sleep.

I find myself inside a white, warm area,
Free.
I fly with great power,
Into a vast, open space.

At peace.

[yuka]

excellent!
I read and read, sometimes hold my breath, but finally loose a long one, for such a satisfactory end. if adapt this for a short-story, it must be very stimulating.thank you for your beautiful sharing.

[hillwalker]

A tragic tale from egg to bird heaven presumably, and nicely paced. As yuka says, my heart was in my mouth.

But I'll admit that I would be hard-pressed to consider this poetry. You have chosen to write a story and place each sentence on a separate line. That's fine, but it's not a poem just because it looks like a poem.

An enjoyable read all the same, and you show a really vivid imagination.

H

[misterreplicant]

it's not a poem just because it looks like a poem.


Yeah, I noticed that once I posted it.
I'm currently reading The Inferno by Dante Alighieri. That is a poem, but it tells a story, so I guess I kind of took that type of style. But, The Inferno was originally wrote in Italian, I guess it would really be considered a poem in that language rather than English. (Maybe "The Journey of a Bird" is prose instead?)

Thanks Yuka and Hillwalker!

P.S. I only spent about an hour writing this, so I didn't make it really good. I had limited time, and I really wanted to write prose.

[yuka]

poetry, like dancing, dancing of jumping. ,towards nowhere, it's aim is itself

prose,however, like walking, always has a clear aim.

[misterreplicant]

poetry, like dancing, dancing of jumping. ,towards nowhere, it's aim is itself

prose,however, like walking, always has a clear aim.

Sounds right. Thanks for your insight, again.