Okay, I'm posting this because I don't know what else to do with it. It kind of came into my head while I was trying to take a nap in someone's room--after talking about maybe taking a poetry class, coincidentally.
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Bird-Song
A bird in a bush is worth
two in a hand
but only a fraction of one in your arms.
For my song is sung
more sweetly than
a greeting of the sun.
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It's pretty juvenile, but that's it. On the topic of being juvenile, I made a type-o in which I used the word "arse" instead of "arms," which really changes the meaning of this poem.
Anyway... comments are appreciated.
hear the day.
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1 comment:
Like I told you already, I got sad right after reading this poem. I think it was the naive hope in it that made me a little sad, which also made me think about how I am growing up . . . yeah, sad poem . . .
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