Bluebird Song

Before it was beaten out of me
Before they taught me to color inside the lines
Raise my hand, and wait to be called upon
Before I was schooled to stand up straight
Avoid chewing gum; speak when spoken to
Before being trained to respond to bells
I learned to cipher my words
With poetry and slang and gibberish
Masking the fullness of my feelings
With oblique language
And casual nonchalance
Before my windows were walled in,
With self-medication
Sullen silence and cloudy self-pity
I used to speak directly to God
Connecting to the cosmic voice
Each night, sweaty underneath
The quilted bedspread
I called out to the creator in my head
And God he spoke back to me
In echoed tones and repeated phrases
Like the reverberating sounds
From Drive-In speakers:
Or the call of the bluebird:
Never forget, never forgive


11 thoughts on “Bluebird Song

  1. Resentment is the poison that you drink hoping someone else will die

    Drop the baggage and fly free bluebird

  2. BTW, excellent imagery, as usual.

    Keep writing!

    And start speaking! JC eagerly awaits your spoken word debut.

    And since you’ve now stated that you’re well trained to perform on task(REALLY?!), how ’bout that multi-media DMaRt show?

    Published poetry, spoken word, painting, collage and music…C’mon out and strut your stuff for the peps on the streets o talented one!

  3. i love this poem. srsly.

    but since it appears that this comment string is now an open forum for requests, i look forward to seeing the collage and accompanying poetry that pays tribute to charlie and his angels.

    does that make me jaclyn smith? if not, which?…

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