Broken Wings

Just a little lost love poem.

I am a blackbird, 

Wrapped in ebony, 

A veil of feathers 

Protecting my heart.

 

I was once a dove, 

Ivory wings pure, 

Glowing in the night, 

Heart exposed to all. 

She was the reason, 

The one who changed me, 

Another white dove, 

She who stole my heart. 

Oh how I loved her, 

How my heart did swell, 

Just the thought of her 

Sent my head spinning. 

Then came that dark day, 

When fate did conspire 

To strike our love down, 

To clip our white wings. 

And in that moment, 

When I saw her depart, 

My red blood blackened, 

Staining my white wings. 

And black they remained 

For years thereafter, 

The pain and sorrow 

Of a missing love.

 

But after much grief

And so many tears, 

I started to heal, 

Wings began to mend. 

It took me a while, 

And much willpower, 

But I tried to love, 

To find another. 

And maybe someday, 

Wings fully mended, 

I will fly away, 

Stronger than before.

Author's Note

I'm just not sure if this one is very good. :/

Reviews

[Steve]

I am sure that it is good. I want to call this poem, dynamic or even 'alive.' I took special note of the part where you cite, 'Another white dove.' All throughout but in particularly I see it at that line, that your poem in not linear, not predictable. I pleasantly did not yet know how it was you came to be a 'black bird' nor did I know if the other 'white dove' would become a black bird as well. Perhaps she did. This poem is filled with eloquently imparted emotion. To be frank, it tells an interesting story quite clearly, showing not telling, leaving the reader to wonder about things a reader ought to wonder about and knowing what we ought to know. This poem takes us on a sort of plummet through emotion heading not just toward disaster but through it and beyond. At the end we are shown that the plummet may end, that joy and happiness may again be achieved, but still remaining is the bittersweet price of hope, that the chance that all can be well again is always balanced by the chance that it may not. Your poem is rich and full, containing hope and despair, joy and sadness, and so much more. Yes, I am sure that this is indeed very good. Wonderful, wonderful poem. Thank you for sharing.

[Jared Michael Smith]

Thank YOU for the review! I honestly didn't think it was that great, but I'm still thankful for the encouragement. :-)

[prema]

It indeed is good. White wings staining black of blood is pathetic.

[Jared Michael Smith]

Really? I thought the staining of the wings was good symbolism for how he transformed after the pain of his loss... Nevertheless, I appreciate your review. :)