Nestlings

Weep no more,
Nestlings who performed their ablutions.
Verge to your hidden fresh magnificence,
Rivet your sweet fingers to the damp shores
And feel no wakeful anguish,
Your tale of love is moored at the oceans.
No attach can be hasty,
After the winnowing winds
And the twittering thoughts
In the snow-cold skies.
Oh, the sorrow coming
From the sweet pale lips,
Plunge to the places
Of wondrous fountains,
Of unseen synchronicity,
Then leap into the forest dim!
Past the meadows and the streams,
There is a song that found a way.
Sick for home,
But wide awake.

Author's Note

My friend inspired me at this one.

Reviews

[Tim L. B. Cummings]

"Nestlings" appears to convey the anxieties of childhood, and the uncertain future ahead.

I'm not one to judge any technicalities, I was good at English in high school, but I've never been one to remember proper rules and protocol for poems. Regardless of rules, I always like to focus on understanding the meaning of a work of art, instead of being distracted by syllable count and meter and what have you.

I feel like I intrinsically understand the meaning of this one, it's about the coming of age, about the pain and joy one will experience when they "wake up" and finally begin to experience life. I can relate.

[R.A. Youngblood]

You are right and I agree with you, sir. Thank you. :D

[Diamond]

This is a wonderful writing. The first 6 lines fill the heart with hope and light. Thank you for sharing it.

[Cyprian Van Dyke]

Nice poem. Like the rhymes and imagery you've limned.
"Rivet your sweet fingers to the damp shores," and many more. Tyfs!

[R.A. Youngblood]

Thank you :D