Birdsong
Bryan Borland is by sunlight a corporate suit with a background in law and psychology and by moonlight a barefoot poet with pieces appearing in dusty corners of the Internet, including his web site www.poeticgrin.com. He has been published by the Young American Poets and The Foliate Oak and will soon be featured in Breadcrumb Scabs and Ganymede. He lives, works, and writes in Little Rock, Arkansas. This poem makes inventive use of tone and humor. Read it and try not to laugh out loud at the end ... can't be done.
Birdsong
By Bryan Borland
Strike up, strike up the morning band,
toe-tapping symantics along wooden fence
with chirping conversation comes
two-toned sunshine in my ear, I’m
whistled to cognition, sheets
lifted by the cartoon-vivid beaks of blue jays,
my musical breakfast taken with sugar,
this day’s appearance made perfect
by avian misunderstanding,
in my lack of bird-fluency
I hear joyous song,
actual translation:
bird 1: The bloody bastard’s finally up!
____ bird 2: Good, now he can distract that fucking cat!
Birdsong
By Bryan Borland
Strike up, strike up the morning band,
toe-tapping symantics along wooden fence
with chirping conversation comes
two-toned sunshine in my ear, I’m
whistled to cognition, sheets
lifted by the cartoon-vivid beaks of blue jays,
my musical breakfast taken with sugar,
this day’s appearance made perfect
by avian misunderstanding,
in my lack of bird-fluency
I hear joyous song,
actual translation:
bird 1: The bloody bastard’s finally up!
____ bird 2: Good, now he can distract that fucking cat!
It's true! I did laugh out loud.
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