I’ve been reading up on some poetry lately, specifically Edgar Allan Poe, and I have a sneaking suspicion that the darkly twisted romantics of his young love lost writings have effected me. As usual, I had a short phrase come together, unexpectedly and out of nowhere, in my mind that sounded beautiful to me. I memorized it until I was able to jot it down, then I built on it to create a whole story. A whole story that took an unusual, and again unexpected, turn about midway through. It was even surprising to me, as I had no plans for how this would turn out and was just writing whatever came to my mind. I think I quite like it, though…
Good day little singing birdWhose feathers gleam soft cream.
It seems he’s left without a word
And I am left to dream. To dream the day that he returns
Or dream what could have been.
Deep inside my longing churns
And all I ask is “when?” When did he change, and why?
Little bird, why aren’t you singing?
While all my plans have gone awry,
Your sweet chirp keeps me clinging. Clinging to this future
Of my fairytale I’d planned.
But I’m only clinging to this creature,
Falling lifeless from my hand. Scoop it up and sweep it,
I won’t need it anymore.
Put it where he can keep it,
Beneath my feet, beneath my floor.
Copyright © 2012
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Casual, Possibly-Nonsensical Ramblings 
This is a very good one. I suspect you started from clinging, right? Keep it up 😀
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Actually, the first bit that came to me was “little singing bird whose feathers gleam” out of nowhere. It’s weird how things just pop up like that in my mind. I had no idea that it was going to end up where it did, so morbidly sweet 🙂
I greatly appreciate your feedback and encouragement. Thank you!
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Wow! Then that’s interesting. I tend to write stories in a similar way–a line or an eye-catching title can spark things up. The most important thing here is that you had the courage and desire to flesh it out. Keep at it. I bet you will surprise yourself someday 🙂
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