She calls -this strange Briar Rose
caught in the tangle of
a complex web.
Calls again, in this silent - long - long,
forever long, morning -
the stark white sky,
a blanket that blinds her song.
And then,
as though she anticipates Maleficent's approach
the prick of the spindle -
blood on her small, white hand,
she turns swifly to fly away
and sleeps one hundred years.
Bird outside my kitchen window this morning. : Photo: Julie Clarke 2010
I noticed that the title of the photograph is in (parenthesis) where the tile of the photgraph of Natalie was not. Parenthesis {} are 1337 (google is your friend) for hugs on message boards. Wondered if you wanted to hug the bird? :)
ReplyDeleteIt was raining, the bird was outside my window. It moved within the branches as though entangled. For some reason I thought of the fairy tale (animation) 'Sleeping Beauty. I recalled the castle in which Beauty slept was totally overgrown by large branches. Shortly after I took this photo, the bird who made just two calls flew away.
ReplyDeleteThe parenthesis was purely because I wanted people to know that the poem I wrote WAS about the bird. I've now removed parenthesis and placed title in usual format.
ReplyDelete