Tag Archives: poetry

Can you say bird?

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So. You know I cruise around the blogosphere a lot right? Sometimes I wonder if I’m becoming a bit too good at it… because sometimes I find myself mentally yawning and thinking oh, i’ve seen that already. and that. and that, too.

I guess that’s what happens. And I’m good at spotting the way things will makes their way around the internet. And other little internet trends. And over the past month-or-so-ish I’ve been noticing little fabric/handmade birds. It’s not like it’s huge or anything, I just noticed two different handmade little art birdies featured in one day, and every now and then I spot another, and for some reason it made a little tick in my head and I saved a few of them.

I’m not a bird sculpture freak, but I’m curious about this apparent spreading little interest in them. There was a little birdie trend not so long ago…. in jewelry, and prints. I’ve always liked them. I have a really rad little bird necklace my bestie got for me for my birthday. So yes. Birds. Handmade. Crocheted. Etc. LOOK!

Louise Weaver

spotted via

Abby Glassenberg

spotted via

Abigail Brown

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Lauren Alane


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They are all lovely, aren’t they? Maybe we like birds because of their wings. Because they can fly away at will. And we relate, sometimes, to feeling caged.

But birds are such beautiful colorful, hopeful creatures. And they can sing. Even if they’re caged.

I know why the caged bird sings

A free bird leaps on the back of the wind
and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.

-Maya Angelou

(Don’t mind me, my mind runs in tangents)

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Wishes on leaves

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That’s a mighty fine looking bench there. This looks like the perfect spot to curl up for a while and read, or think, or stare out into the beautiful peacefulness and just be. Of course, it looks like there’s some room behind that bench for some running around and frolicking.  And that tree looks lovely for climbing and perching in for a while…

i remember when i was a child
and used to climb trees
(hesitantly);
we had a little wooden plank
nook and we’d nestle in there
and talk-a talk talk
of small childish dreams
back when everything was
possible
(they were wishes on leaves)

photo via

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Planted words grow into flowers

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Please Plant this Book, was first published in 1968 by Richard Brautigan. Eight poems were printed onto little pockets that contained seeds:


(Please, someone, tell me if you cannot read the images. I can post the words, too, if need-be; I just don’t want to be redundant assuming they are.)

What a marvelously charming idea. I first read “Squash” somewhere where it was entirely separated from this whole book/idea and loved it. I found all of these while googling Squash to make sure I had the wording right so that I could plop it into my quote/poem book (i collect them). When I saw these, I was so touched by the sweetness of the idea I think I teared up a bit.

I thought that it would be swell for them to reprint it! And then I remembered that I once bought a Cargo lipstick that came packaged in a box that contained seeds so that you could plant it, thereby created flowers, not waste. And I thought that perhaps it would possibly be possible nowadays to have the actual pages of poems contain the seeds (as opposed to being a packet). I really love the idea of actually being able to plant the words.

I thought about how very lovely the whole idea is to being able to have words/thoughts/poem sprout flowers, and I wondered if they sold seed paper. And they do! (examples: here and here; or you could make your own). There are so many fabulous applications! Writing letters on them, naturally, planting your thoughts/words/wishes and hopes. What if there were a whole journal made out of seed paper! You could plant your past (because who hasn’t thought about getting rid of the evidence, ha)!

Squash
The time is right to mix sentences
sentences with dirt and the sun
with punctuation and the rain with
verbs, and for worms to pass
through question marks, and the
stars to shine down on budding
nouns, and the dew to form on
paragraphs.

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