My maternal Grandfather passed away long before I was born, leaving behind shelves of books of poetry. Reading words he loved, especially those he had underlined with red pencil, allowed me to hear his voice ~ and find my own. E M Katherine DeLorey
Wounded Birds Beware of wounded birds, drawn to nurturing as moths to the flickering flame; stilled and vulnerable ’til time and tenderness return to strength the vision of self in free flight.
Taking leave with knowledge, without malice, with gratitude, without caring, of the nest you now discover you’ve been building only for yourself.
Beware of wounded birds, whose clutching talons cling as children fearful of the storm, ripping without cruel intention small fragments of the heart left unprotected from the inevitable ~ ~ left now wounded, without wings, to mourn the loss of joint flight which now will never be. If you would like to have your poem featured in New Poets Wednesday please submit it along with a brief bio to firstname.lastname@example.org
The Bard of Appanoose
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