wrinkled and plucked
born in the moonlit Autumn
left behind too young
to move or migrate
fallen, starving from an empty nest
scrounging for potatoes
left in the ice-bitten
hoof-trampled field
slowly my glistening
white plumage grew in
instantaneously
my bugs were features
every mistake and mutation
explicable as a swan
in a pond of confused ducks
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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More stories from K.B. Silver and writers in Poets and other communities.
CH 20~ Party Down
Argento’s ninth (eighteenth in earth years) Birthday came and went Thursday, the thirteenth, and he’d already received his father’s gift, if you could call it that. You had to commit a fairly serious infraction to be cut off; the Arch-Baron was keeping up appearances and maintaining his own reputation as much as any sense of love or attachment to Argento with his “gift.”
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 4 days ago
Standing While Falling
Quotation from Friedrich Nietzsche "He who wrestles long with monsters should beware lest he himself become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Man is not destroyed by suffering, but by the meaning he makes of it."
By LUCCIAN LAYTH6 days ago in Critique
Comments (1)
The swan among confused ducks is such a striking metaphor.