Why aren’t there any birds?
Why aren’t there any birds? She asked,
Slapping the fly that had landed on her arm.
Why aren’t the trees all full of sweet song in the mornings?
As she festooned the ant’s nest with powder.
I miss the sweet trill of birds, she reflected
As she sprayed herself with mosquito repellant.
Birds are so beautiful. I am so sad they are all gone,
As she doused the vegetables with insecticide.
I miss their trill and colour, she said sadly
As the electric zapper sparked and a singed body fell.
Oh! She cried
A poor butterfly
As the brightly coloured wings smouldered.
Opher – 3.5.2018
Lovely
Thanks Nikshita.
Hey Opher, Namaste 🙂
This is rather fun: but yet with an ironic edge as sharp as a razor. Soulful as well, the poem finds passion running deep in still water.
What colour was the butterfly in your mind when you wrote this?
Namaste 🙂
DN
Iridescent blue and green.
Did you get my email about your words?
Hmmm, that’s very specific: relating to Gaia by any chance? 🙂
Oh I’m just picking up the email now as your notification came through…spooky eh?! lol 🙂
Namaste 🙂
DN
Dewin – who knows what the subliminal consciousness is picking up?
Mos excellent! How many people do you think will get it?
With the greatest of certainty you could guarantee at one, the writer and three readers.
Well you may be right.
I don’t know Cheryl. I would hope a few.
Haha the irony.
Cheers Pooj.
If only we practised what we preached … a pointed piece!
Cheers Dave.