Heaven’s droppings, or: First impressions

Blank verse in iambic pentameter

My favorites are the free birds that - well,
you know... You know? Whereas I'm all like, 'How
do I stick a whatsit into the round
binkadink, wrapped in floojipples? Maybe
a shibboing would do it?' I'm amazed that
some of those splendid creatures don't get much
attention, or sometimes are dismissed as
colorless. Sure, their plumes lack the glossy
sheen of kept pets in shiny cages, but,
really, they should all be spreading their wings-
-whoosh- up- past the- -swish- into loop-de-loops,
soaring into spins through -zip- -zoom- with me
holding on for dear life, thick emotions
coursing / heart pounding / anticipating -
more, more, give me more -please- of that raw worm
you're chewing up with such gusto, relish,
perhaps, for a hotdog. I'd gladly be
a swine, rooting at the rank, wet guano
they casually drop from the heavens.

Let’s write poetry together!

When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.

Ben Harper (b. 1969)

Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!

40 thoughts on “Heaven’s droppings, or: First impressions”

  1. “of that raw worm
    you’re chewing up with such gusto, relish,
    perhaps, for a hotdog”
    Give me a hotdog any day! Haha! What a queasy one. ๐Ÿ™‚

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