🚀 go-pugleaf

v

                   T H E   L I F E R

                                        by Frank Halliwell
                                            Jimboomba, Qld, Australia.
                                                Public Domain

               The accused stands, impassive,
               just staring past the bars,
               at dark blue sky, and fluffy clouds,
               and the first faint evening stars.

               Kookaburras chuckle softly,
               from an old and gnarled ghost gum,
               tuning up, in preparation
               for the bedlam, soon to come !

               Swift shadows in the deepening dusk
               as flying foxes fill the air,
               a squabble or two and they're off again,
               they come from whence, and go to where ?

               The turnkey sweeps into the room
               and snuffs out the last light.
               The bars dissolve into the gloom
               of an arbitrary night.
                           * * *
               A raucous screeching high above.
               Flashes of rose in the morning sun,
               as a hundred galahs dive and wheel
               and start off on a long days fun !

               The prisoner stares out through the bars.
               The sentence, in full measure:
               "Life in solitary, with no parole!"
               At grandma and grandpa's pleasure.

               The lifer contemplates his sins
               and his most heinous crime,
               of pausing to rest in the wrong place,
               and staying too long a time!

               The other crime was being
               a pleasure to the eyes,
               of wearing a fine coloured coat
               with luminescent dyes.

               The lifer stares out through the bars,
               he may not go where we go.
               A loss of kith, and kin, and kind,
               to satisfy an ego.

               The lifer stands, impassive,
               just staring past the bars.
               At dark blue sky and fluffy clouds,
               and the first faint evening stars.

               The jailer swept into the room,
               covered the cage and said,                    
               "Now, cocky..,pretty cockatoo... 
               It's time to go to bed!"


 Just a (probably unpopular) viewpoint expressed in verse.

    And yes, I am fully aware that most of the birds sold as 'pets'
are raised in captivity, but I feel that any creature that has been
given a pair of wings as part of their heritage, should be allowed to
spread them and fly free. 

 Frank Halliwell
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e-mail = frankh@gil.com.au            * While prose may carry all the facts
HOME at http://www.gil.com.au/~frankh * The voice of verse is sweeter
& oceanside.com/oceanside/poetry.html * For poetry transports the soul
www.midcoast.com.au/poetry/frank.html * On lilting rhyme and meter.
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