The tears do tumble down my face,
the one who doesn’t cry.
You wonder why I’ve lost my grace
who watch the poet die.
There is a place ‘yond time and space,
it’s here alone I fly.
And yet it’s here you’d me encase,
my wings apart you’d pry.
And so it is when you embrace
this poet from the sky,
be not surprised, in keeping pace,
if all I do is sigh.
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“The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom.” –Maya Angelou
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Image: Pinterest
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shift 
YES!
stop making me smile.
With that…u should smile
you got me — that’s actually why i like you :)
:(
Don’t frown. Expressing this actually made me happy… Thank you for reading! :)
Lovely… all poets share from the heart. ♥
So true! No good work has ever originated elsewhere.
Thanks so much for reading and commenting. Always good to hear from you. :)
Tears….Lost Grace…Alone you fly…!!!
A caged bird……not expecting such feeling from you dear…
I don’t know if I interpret the poem wrong….!!
The words are touching…my soul…Its beautiful you wrote…
And I love it as I always do when you write something…..
but……………………………………………………………………!!
But what, dear Kazi? The poem is what it is, which is me — flying. :)
Then may be I misunderstood…..!! Sorry
;)
Simply beautiful
Thank you so much, Benjamin. Your work is, too.
“If all I do is sigh” I love that line. Thank you for writing another poem. You looked at your survey. :)
Indeed I did. And here I thought poetry would turn readers off… Good thing I was wrong because I love writing it!
Your poetry is stunning.
Thank you, Coco. A compliment like that from you means everything.
❤❤❤
The same to you! xo jess
All true poets fly alone in a sky that belongs only to them. The trick is to take some of that sky and translate it into terms others can understand and appreciate. The poet is, in essence, a translator of things only he or she can see…and you help us see.
I saw your poll post, by the way–don’t change a thing. As soon as you write what/when/how others want you to write, you no longer write from who you are, and that’s what makes you unique…
Thanks, Vance. Yes, we poets are a unique group. But it’s an existence I wouldn’t trade for anything and am glad to translate for others whenever and however possible. This, for me, is the greatest joy…
Thanks for the encouragement. As I’ve said in other comments, even if the whole world told me to stop writing poetry, for example, I don’t think I could do it. Yes, our blogs are uniquely us, and that’s what makes them beautiful… Still, it was fun to see what people had to say. ;)
Gorgeous!
*Jessica blushes.*
Thanks, John.
Powerful.
Thanks, Mike! I’m off on a run, thinking of principles I’ve learned from you!
A great endorsement, thank you! If you believe it could help others, I hope you’ll give it a good review at iBookstore or BN or Amazon! Your true opinion of course, not just a friends softball. I respect all feedback!
Give me some time, but I will! And I’ll give my honest opinion, no worries. That will be easy since your work is great. :)
Erm, unlike other commenters, I don’t really know what to make of this poem (sorry!) :( To me, there seems to be a strong sense of vulnerability coming through from the poem. But I really think I’m just not connecting with the world today. I really like the picture of the butterfly in the bottle :)
Haha, Mabel. Honestly, I don’t think much of the world today would connect with this poem, either. There’s a reason there isn’t a lot of poetry on the “top sellers” lists.
The poem is about an artist — in this case, a poet, but really, it could be anyone with any kind of passion. The artist is loved by someone; for example’s sake, we’ll say a guy named Max. The trouble is, in so loving the artist, Max would take away the very thing that allows the artist to fly… He’d take away all of her time, or criticize the very thoughts on which she flies. He *says* he loves her, but, really, all he wants to do is control her… The result being that she feels stifled and like her passion has been snuffed out against her will; hence, all she can do is sigh.
Now, that’s just one interpretation. Readers can take away from poetry anything they put into it. That’s the beauty of poetry. It meets us where we’re at.
So was the poem vulnerable? Absolutely. Was it worth it? Yes. But it’s okay if you don’t like it! You won’t hurt my feelings. :)
This poem leaves me with such a melancholy feeling…but in a strange way, I am happy with this feeling. It has me thinking…which I suppose is what good poetry is suppose to do. Nice work.
Thanks, Randall. I won’t say it was a happy poem. I was quite literally in tears when I thought of the first two lines. Being a writer is hard sometimes… But writing always makes me happy, even when it’s about sad things. And the poem is about a free spirit wanting to fly. That in itself is a happy thought. :)
I’m glad you liked it. I think this is one of my best poems yet.
Without a doubt, I think it is one of your best… It is an emotional poem,and with me there was a mix of melancholy but also of hope. Beautifully done.
Thank you. Yes, there is hope in there. The butterfly is still aware of her lost height, and that is something!
Thoroughly enjoyed this poem Jess! As you may or may not know, I love the symbolism of an open birdcage and how beautiful birds, butterflies, humans(?) are when they have both the freedom and comfortable, natural, fearless(?) haven to return to anytime.
Thank you for sharing this!
Aww, and thanks for reading! I love that symbolism, too. And this is one of my favorite poems that I’ve written thus far. :)
That’s beautiful! I love your rhymes :)
Thank you, Magdalena! I’m a fledgling poet, but I think this is one of my best yet. Thanks so much for stopping by and for your comment! I hope you have a wonderful day. :)