Crystal Plumage

O, little bird with crystal plumage

And sapphire’s for your eyes

The storm will pass and you will perch

On the diamonds in your mind

In a gossamer prison you flap your wings

The bars of steel of cotton breathe

They hold you there with chains of gold

Linked through your down on flightless lore

O, little bird with crystal plumage

And rubies are you lips

Your tongue seeds pearls

You hum a tune that fires up liberty

What do you know of freedoms shores?

Of rainbows in the clouds?

Your freedom rests within the nest

Your cage, your prisons grounds

I’ve learned to fly within the cage

and sing a pretty tune

You’ve nipped my wings

But not my song, writ on a wayward breeze

I’m just a bird with crystal plumage

You’ve caged me for your sport

My song, the ideal, you need to biuld

Your faithless hymnal wall

You learned to fly in little circles

you dream you soar the clouds

but do you know the skies are blue

your wings just skim the ground?

A fledgling caged fly’s in its dreams

On the winds of change it spreads its wings

Its cage a prison — that’s all it knows

Yet, holds not its soul, nor sings, nor mourns

My wings of glass and crystal plumage

Cannot be held for long, I’ll grow

I’ll shatter these wings and pitch my song —

freed from these prison walls

O, little bird with crystal plumage

You soar the endless skies

But in the cage you forgot the dream

That gave your wings their flight

I’m just a bird with crystal plumage

with sapphires for my eyes, with ruby lips

And diamond wings — you need — to keep

your dream alive —

I’m just one little bird

This poem is also from my childhood, I never dated any of them, I wasn’t of a mind to at the time. But I always remember the backstory to each, I believe its true for all writers when they look back upon their work, to remember, feelings, reasons, seasons… My father knew the areas where Partridges nested on our island and he would sit quietly and ambush them, when they would scatter he’d catch one of them in flight, he’d use his shepherd’s staff to vault through the air, what a sight to behold (he did the same with bees, he’d capture the swarm with his shirt, if he captured the queen, they were then placed in a hive and voila, we’d produce honey all year around). If it was a cock he’d usually release it, if it was a hen chantelle, he’d bring her home and cage her, once trained they are remarkably loyal birds and make great pets and once released do not return to the wild. They’d walk allover our verandas cooing, majestically. Their eggs are sweet to the taste. A funny thing about Partridges is that they like to eat little pebbles, speak of hitting rock-bottom. When initially caged they’d coo mournfully, alas, the poem of a little girl who felt like a captured Partridge.

Copyright ©. R Tsambounieri Talarantas. All Rights Reserved.