Immediate Lines On Hearing About The Death Of A Primary School Classmate

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Claws For The Weekend: Foul-Mouthed And Feathered

My favourite article that I’ve read this week was about officials reacting to a complaint of an African grey parrot that sits in the window of a house in York and shouts out to passers-by “Show us your knickers!” or “Wanker!”

The owner’s landlady has been threatened with eviction if this behaviour continues, which would be a fowl thing to do.

Have a great weekend everybody.

Make sure you don’t end up before the beak. See you on the flip side.

No Man’s Land; No Man Knows

And still, the no man’s land between summer and autumn.

The green foliage hangs heavy, but the odd leaf is beginning to turn.

What’s a guy to do, when travelling to watch a local non-league team?

The sun is still there, but sinking, diluted.

Is it too warm for a coat, or too cold for a jumper?

Just bring on winter and we’ll all know where we stand.

Dead Bird

from my poetry blog

Coronets For Ghosts

Dead Bird

The kids are fascinated by the varying states of putrefaction.
Every morning we pause, compare it to yesterday's
studied image.
"Where have it's eyes gone? Have they sunk into its skull?"

Half-covered by an overnight shroud of autumn leaves,
provoking a conflict of opinion.
The girl thinks it should be buried out of decency,
the boy eager to glimpse its surfacing skeleton.

Every day its stomach is drawn in, the ribs rising.
Then this morning, stunned: the bird is gone,
perhaps removed by a conscientious council worker.
The boy thinks that it's been dragged off to be devoured
by a fox, or a cat, but whatever it was
it must have been really down on its luck,
falling on that desiccated morsel
for a feast.



©AndrewJamesMurray

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