This is a short poem i wrote a few months ago which I thought i would share with you all.
I hope you enjoy it.
I remember so well that house of singing birds.
that, it's only assured sound.
many noises i had heard there,
most unpredictable, loud, frightening.
But always in the morning.
The singing of the birds.
thundering t.v mornings, pounding Black metal afternoons, at night screams?.
The slamming of doors, the baying of hounds,
Grinding it's way into your ears as if to penetrate your very being!.
But then.
Silence, perhaps for a few moments.
And you will hear it.
The sound of the singing birds behind all others,
As if it where the sound upon which the foundation of all sounds were built.
I have no love for that place.
But sometimes even now, when the fury of the world becomes to much for me to bear.
In my mind's eye.
I can return, To those cool spring mornings.
And the one pleasant sound.
In the house of singing birds.
