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Birds

Each time that I observe the world,

I should spy beauty, peace and love.

Each time I listen, I should hear

The soft song of birds, or at most

The low hum of conversation.

But when I crane my neck,

Look up, down or sideways,

In front or behind me,

Or at some frantic screen,

Or catch imagined exploits,

Mouthed off on a train, or neighbours,

Hyped up in angry gatepost chat,

There’s just the sight and sound of war.

Where is love now? When will birds sing?

Birdspeacewar

◄ Doctors

Icarus ►

Comments

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Stephen Gospage

Thu 7th Dec 2023 22:01

Keith and Manish, I am grateful for your comments and am pleased that the poem made an impression on both of you. As you say, Keith, we thirst for peace and recoil from the pointless violence of war, which seems to be everywhere at the moment. Your comments are very humbling, Manish.

And thanks to Stephen, Hélène, John and Tim for liking this poem.

Manish Singh Rajput

Thu 7th Dec 2023 13:31

This poem had my full attention until the end, Stephen. I loved it's composition and the message that it conveys. It moved me emotionally and mentally.
Thank you.

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keith jeffries

Thu 7th Dec 2023 13:04

Stephen,
This poem speaks to my heart. We are so caught up in this world of terror and war that our souls thirst for peace and tranquility.
Thank you for this,
Keith

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