One Called Paul

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Five drab juveniles land outside my window;

goth eyeliner, raucous and rucking over territory,

fouling up my window ledge, five floors high.


Under murmured shadows, three leave suddenly,

startle the two, who, drawing close, look to each other,

before the larger wings it with thousands in late city skies.


The smallest catches reflections in the high rise glass,

checks its rag tag feathers for signs of iridescence

emerging in the half-light of a noisy urban dusk.


But through my window, I see only reluctance in movement.

I wonder if this one’s worried; ill-prepared to join in

and just needs a little more time to practise.



Old Dog ►


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Jonathan Humble

Sat 2nd Feb 2019 21:02

Cheers M C : )

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M.C. Newberry

Mon 28th Jan 2019 17:30

Observational poetry portraying the natural world in its man-made
setting to help us see the contrast in an involving and refreshing way.

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Jonathan Humble

Mon 28th Jan 2019 06:47

Cheers Ray : )

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Sun 27th Jan 2019 23:16

Very uplifting ( no pun intended) Jonathan. Your usual keen eye has homed in on our feathered friends - we can all learn from genuine observation. Nice to see you back after a while!


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Jonathan Humble

Sun 27th Jan 2019 22:12

Thank you Big Sal : )

Big Sal

Sun 27th Jan 2019 19:01

Reading your work is like reading mathematics. It requires multiple go overs for the unitiated, and demands attention from even the most astute of observers.

Great piece, Jonathan.?

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