Warbled melodies

Posted on January 28th, 2008 by george.
Categories: friends, life, love, poetry, travel.

From colonial villages comes forth the call
Cross goldenrod meadows in breezes of fall

The stage has been cleared and the hour is set
We’ll toast to the thrasher, we’ll feast and we’ll fete

From his oceanside home the cardinal flies
By ribbons of scarlet he knows he’s arrived

And jolly the happenings there to be had
Hats off to the thresher, a fine young lad

When mention is made of her, contrast is stark
He’d long since lost touch with the faraway lark

But right here she is where she’s been all along
In the robin’s red breast and in homage, his song

The cardinal smiles at such earnest young love
And calls upon blessings to rain from above

He wings his way home through the blackest of skies
The moon his companion to witness his sighs

The raven’s call rings out on every side
Bids softly the angels close tight their black eyes

His mind tumbles back on her soft swirling dance
The heat and the flame of ill-fated romance

The song of the shepherd sufficient to hook
His black sheep’s heart in its cradling crook

His thoughts fly away to the lands never seen
Their history ancient and playas serene

For the quetzal’s resplendence his heart doth yearn
But she sings in a language he’s not yet learned



Comment on January 28th, 2008.

His mind tumbles back on her soft swirling dance
The heat and the flame of ill-fated romance

Loved those lines.

Did you know the quetzal was the sacred bird of the Mayans? :) You’ll probably see/hear them at Chichen Itza.


Comment on January 28th, 2008.

This is amazing George. Beautifully written.


Comment on January 30th, 2008.

the characters and the symbolism – they are beautiful and deep, and they remind me of The Fountain. This poem leaves me stirred and yet a bit desolate….though I look forward to being a part of the “jolly happenings”

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