Goose flying down;
flinging, slinging.
Caught in a vortex;
flinging, slinging.
Caught in a vortex;
ringing, winging.
Plucked from the air;
deported, exported.
Vortically challenged;
transported, distorted.
Feathers descending;
swirling, whirling.
Fluttering earthward;
curling, unfurling.
Plucked until bare;
shivering, quivering.
Lands with a thud;
Dinner delivering!
© Marilyn Brindley
Written for The Mag, where Tess Kincaid, gave us the painting by David Salle, called 'Flying Down'to interpret however we wish. Fly down there to see what other contributors came up with.
Hello Marilyn:
ReplyDeleteUtterly inspiring and great fun. Your poem really does gather momentum as one reads down until it ends with a real flourish on the dinner table! Wonderful.
This is such a novel way to spark poems, I'm not sure I could do it. I agree with the Hattatts, you've really nailed the motion of the winged bird - poor thing. Great stuff.
ReplyDeleteunique take. I never did figure out what the blue and gold thing was below the duck.
ReplyDeletewow...intense and rather dramatic...easy to see you though, you paint it well...lots of action...and dinner, hmm....and to think a few moments ago it was flying gracefully...smiles.
ReplyDeleteYou certainly made this one interesting, concentrating on the bird - high drama worked well,
ReplyDeleteI could feel myself falling for this one from the outset.
ReplyDeletePoor Goose! Excellently done!
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
La Petite Nell: Fine response to the prompt, beautifully crafted.
ReplyDeleteOriginal or extra crispy? giggle
ReplyDeleteLove the staccato feel of your poem!!!
ReplyDeleteNo need to tenderise it;-)
ReplyDeleteThis has to end in my top 5 favourite of the week list! I felt the breeze taking me away the more I read! I love this one, Nell!
ReplyDelete...ah so delicious I'm sure, but will there be soup too? I think I may be singing these words in the shower....just a really nice ring all the way through! Nicely done!
ReplyDeleteLovely swing to this - it has to be read aloud!
ReplyDeleteBetter check that plane for damage , could be a birdstrike, what a fun poem !
ReplyDeleteThis is so lyrical and really works well with the falling.
ReplyDeleteIn death there is continued survival, with the provision of food and warm feathers for the nest. I love the title and the cyclic motion of the downward free fall. Thanks for sharing these fabulous words, Little Nell. =D
ReplyDelete