birds.

birds.

A Poem by Boyd Johnson

i have not yet

given

up

 

i have my own caged bluebird.

i have my own hiding places

i have my own sun

to be angry

at.

 

the hawk is hurt,

though

no predator

may strike.

 

these talons, may draw blood yet.

the wing is not entirely dead.

 

i have not yet

given

up.

 

on those who struck me from the sky,

my revenge,

has just begun.

© 2008 Boyd Johnson


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Reviews

Reminds me of the lyrics from an album entitled "Deadwing":

I don't remember
Did something in my past create a hole?
Don't use your gender
To drive a stake right through my soul


Posted 15 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Sweeeet bare structure, makes the crispness/preciseness of your voice ring clear. Dope dope dope.

Posted 15 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Please don't give up. I hear your voice from where I sit. I look up at the cloud-filled sky and I know. I know that somewhere there is a hiding place filled with hope and other things. Things not mentioned but yet still possible. Wonderful work. I'm a big fan of your words.

Posted 15 Years Ago



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Added on December 16, 2008

Author

Boyd Johnson
Boyd Johnson

the great and oft forgotten north of nyc. poughkeepsie., NY



About
a freak. an outlaw. a hot piece. -j.m. a hometown boy who loves the hudson, his drink, and his hat. hiding under the train tracks, with a bottle of irish moonshine, toasting to it slipping thro.. more..

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