Thread: Helplessness

lkubvviyl.

This definitely does work. I read it and I thought about it. It raised thoughts about class distinctions and society, youth and older age, caring and apathy. Nicely subtly layered.

Originally Posted by Firebird

‘Excuse me love. Do you have any idea what I could do with this? It’s still alive,’ a girl, no more than 14, with matted hair and a stained overlarge sweatshirt, asked a man on his way to work.

In her boney, dirty, little hands was a fledgling bird that must have fallen from its nest.

He paused for a moment. ‘No, I don’t’ he replied.

Have to agree with V on this. I find this perfect, and profound

Van and Maggie, many thanks for reading and your kind words. I wasn't sure whether this classified as a piece of micro-fiction or as a poem. Maybe there's little difference.

Lots of love,

Firebird

This piece is incredibly moving. I'm glad to see you broke it up into shorter lines, (I read it before my walls came tumbling down), because I was going to suggest you do so. My only suggestion is to change 12 to twelve, it's kind of sticking out. Once again, so much is going on in just a few lines. Excellent effort, love.

Lisa,

Thank you for your comment, and as always your generosity. I have taken your advice and charged twelve. I am sorry to hear about your walls tumbling down. How did this happen, it sounds terrible? I hope you are ok?

Love,

Firebird

I am so sorry, my dear sweet Firebird, I was referring to firewalls, my computer crashed again. I also had a health hiccup, but am recovering. Your kind concern has touched me greatly. Again, I apologize, sometimes I should be a bit more direct. You're a doll.

Best,
Lisa

I read this when you had it in the other format and thought it was a striking piece. Now that you've changed the format, I think it's even stronger. Nice work.

Reminds me of when I was five and wanted a burial for a dead sparrow I discovered on my front lawn. I dug a hole for him layed him next to it and rang neighboors bells asking them if they would come to my bird's funeral. *Odd looks. Door shut in face* I buried him myself and said a small prayer I had learned.

Your poem brought me right back there. Isn't it true that most adults are too busy fitting a new car into their budget and no time to consider and respect a child's need to give respect the the very creatures that sing, waking us up in the morning- smiling. A touching poem. Laurie