I am the songbird that swears.
No tamed caged fowl, me
With garish green wings
No sir ! I rattle those bars
And I mean to soar
Over tower blocks out
To the cliffs and the sea
Mary Featherstone
I am the songbird that swears.
No tamed caged fowl, me
With garish green wings
No sir ! I rattle those bars
And I mean to soar
Over tower blocks out
To the cliffs and the sea
Roadworks and the anxious
Shout of inner voices
Fills all headroom
With concrete
Absence of noise
Dissolves the mortar
Pours back the oxygen
Of liquid air
There is the silence of air and space
In which breathing is a momentous act
And contemplation stretches like a long beach in the sun
Of limitless horizons
There is the muffled deadness which descends
Like the padded ceiling of a too-small room
Left windowless to the imagination
Which can no longer sing