Whispers of American Feathers; Comforting Japanese Pillows
Small encounters, big emotions
He flew through the air
Fair and bright
Sight-fully, strong and balanced
Broken pottery shards
Shredded the sky
With clumsy grace
Artful and curious
Soon to teach and learn
Turn of life’s events whirled
Brood on Japanese food
Would I be stuck in your mind?
Like a pesky piece of celery in your teeth
Or like a peculiar token found
On roads never taken
Bacon smell breaks such fantasies
Never to be an uncultured swine
Rather to dine on pork and wine
You’re a playful, adventurous one
Like a bullet who speeds past the train
Your life won’t wane as quickly as you guess
I’ll whisper feathers across the seas
To fill your pillow, to entertain you
And be your mystical tease
About the Creator
Rowan Finley
Father. Academic Advisor. Musician. Writer. My real name is Jesse Balogh.
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Comments (2)
Reread this today! I really like that question you asked in this poem...
The feather-whispering bit? Pure magic. Also, tell me—are you more of a pork and wine kind of person, or do you relate more to the uncultured swine line? Be honest!