Tuesday, November 03, 2009

CLIII - The Best Bird

Another photo from Dan Felstead's site.

Use the talents you possess,

for the woods would be a very silent place
if no birds sang except the best.

- Henry Van Dyke.

The Best Bird

Who will sing now Cock Robin is dead?
He sang the best, or so they said.
His voice was pure, the sound so sweet
No other bird dared to compete.
When Robin tilted back his head
The wrens all hoped for him to wed
And fought their way onto his bed
Now he lies beneath a sheet.
Who will sing now?

More hearts than his were cut and bled
When the arrow pierced that breast of red.
Dispirited birds were in retreat
None could sing, but only tweet.
He was the best and now he's dead.
Who will sing now?

© J Cosmo Newbery
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  1. Who fills in for the bird that's dead?
    Is there another whose breast is as red?

    Tisn't the breast that makes the song...
    (ask the mockingbird, when he comes along)

    But rather the heart that opens readily
    and pleases others hearts and ears steadily.

    Oh, I'm sorry yon Robin passed away, so.
    (probably shot by a jilted lover's arrow)

    But maybe strange nests shouldn't have been his
    to wander in and attempt to please others Ms.

    oh well, lesson learned hard, and that
    is how the robin got eaten by the cat.


  2. ask the mockingbird when he comes along
    ask the mockingbird when he comes along
    what the heck do you people think?
    That we can't even come up with an original tune?
    Do you think all mockingbirds just stink?
    Then you should hear us under the moon!

    Howl like wolves we can
    even sound a bit like a man
    or the kicking of a tin can
    (OK, maybe not sound like a big brass band)

    but, ask the mockingbird when he comes along
    ask the mockingbird when he comes along
    is really getting to be a tired old song.

    (and muffled grumbling as he flies away, we hear...
    ask the mockingbird when he comes along
    ask the mockingbird when he comes along)

  3. Another great one J. Your poems always have the best rhythm...it actually makes them fun to read and say out loud.

    Boneman...maybe the Robin found the room with continuous sinning?


  4. The Robin was munched by a hungry cat
    The flesh was eaten, the beak was spat
    The wrens wept and beat their chest
    But had to settle for second best.

  5. Perhaps a bluebird will sing for us now? Shoo kitty, shoo!!!
    Hugs and lovely to see you :)

  6. Poor Robin. Will there be a sequel?

    The first poem was lovely, the second wittily thrifty. But I do want to hear about who's the next best voice. (Is it sort of like the way the birds switch off when flying in the V formation?)

    Senor has a thing about where dead birds go. Thousands of them must die every day, but nary a one appears in his final repose. You might be able to help us out here ...with your uncanny ability to see deep into the heart of the matter. ;)

  7. Sad, poignant... lovely.

  8. So nice to be reading your pearls once again ...


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