I heard the crash,
the muffled cries.
I took the stairs in threes.
Too late, too late,
I saw him go.
I watched him fade to nothing.
A shrinking kamikaze speck,
an open window,
one-way flight,
a final snatch at liberty.
He must have known,
he must have felt
the iced air’s frozen daggers.
He would have seen the twinkling cloak
of death glint on the branches.
And still his greying feathers sought
the freedom of the skyway.
No more would bars contain his soul,
or cage confine horizons.
So, as I drew the children near
to comfort those who’d set him free;
to kiss away the rolling tears
and still the trembling lips,
I knew that as he met his doom,
a windswept winter’s grave,
he’d not regret a thing.
.
Paul Hughes 2010
.
N.B. A “swan song” is a final act before death. It comes from the idea that swans, who don’t make a lot of noise, sing a most beautiful song just before they die. So, a swan song is usually some great, final act of creativity, some dramatic last act. Anyway, whilst I love writing verse, I need to diversify, become more flexible. Here’s my first effort, for a while, at unrhyming poetry for children – “free verse.”. Does it work?






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