A Rare Bird

A Rare Bird short poem

A rare bird is he with feathers illuminous red and green;
a bird that only few will ever see and perhaps ’twas meant to have been.
This bird flies free over mountains and through the mind of a dream;
escaping all barriers and leaving only temperance in mean.
A breeze will lift him to the highest contemplation of being;
and the rain will make him cry for this means a heart is bleeding.
The whistle of this bird when heard flows gently and transcends feelings;
he sits on your shoulder sometimes just to see what books you are reading.
Don’t be mistaken in thinking you’ll ever actually be able to see him;
first you must close your eyes and let yourself believe anything.

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Peter Kiggin

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I am a poet through and through and anyone that tells you different you must deny it and slap them across the face very roughly indeed. I love the normal things in life and turning them into mysterious meaningful emotionally attached fascinating object or subjects.
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