Frozen in the bleak field
Lay that broken-winged bird,
Careless were passers by
Who did not see the loss,
Dreamers once, but no more,
Too busy to notice
The cold and hollow fowl
Resting in Pluto's arms.
Lay that broken-winged bird,
Careless were passers by
Who did not see the loss,
Dreamers once, but no more,
Too busy to notice
The cold and hollow fowl
Resting in Pluto's arms.
No black veiled mourner wept,
Nor funeral bells rang
Or last rights given this
Deadened surreality,
Which fell into static,
An inaudible snow,
Like a television
With a crippled tuner.
Published by J L Carey Jr
J L Carey Jr, Author of the book Turning Pages, is a writer and an artist living in Michigan with his wife and three children. He holds an MFA in Creative Writing from National University and a BA in Englis... View profile
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10 Comments
Post a Commentwhat a wonderful wonderful visual treat. I think it is magnificent. thanks for sharing this one.
Your poem stands powerfully by itself despite Langston Hughes' indelible inspiration here. I, too, often wonder what happens to those dreams that don't come to fruition. I appreciate how you have alluded to how painful it can be and how that pain can be completely invisible to the world at large.
This is really a work of art. You have captured the heartbreak I feel when seeing a dead bird. I am always moved when someone else can see it for the loss it truly is. I need to catch up on your work!
Beautiful. I love visual poetry. :)
great poem! you are up on the blog right now!
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/2652985/languishing_hues_of_white.html?cat=47
very good, sad but so beautifully expressed
One I'd call beautifully bleak. One of your best, Jeff.
Excellent as always. But...but...but....we can hold fast, we don't have to let them die frozen in the bleak field. We don't I won't.
Very nice. I enjoyed immensely :D
I enoyed his poem, but reading yours was a far more exquisite feeling and experience. You are definitely a poet, and a very good one at that. Excellent piece!