Nostalgia by Prolifik

Swirling, Swirling, Swirling,
mimicking the liquid I so recently
poured down my oesophagus
I let myself fall to the floor.....

I Stare at the stars in the sky
before I begin to cry ...
thinking of the days when I
went to bars for the whores

Now I avoid bars because of them ...

Lady Goulds by Donal Mahoney

 

Image -  http://www.debsbirds.com/

Moving from Chicago to Missouri wasn't easy

but breeding Lady Goulds kept me sane

for many years--well, almost.

I was writing then to make a living.

All day I'd rearrange other people's words.   

I needed Lady Goulds to look at 

in the evening and most weekends.

Otherwise I might have married 

some nice lady for the wrong reason.  

Right now, a canary helps me dance 

away the years or days or hours

I have to face before 

I take on a cane or walker. 

The canary calls the dawn with glee. 

Lady Goulds, you see, don't sing. 

They don't have to.

All they have to do is sit there  

as if Mondrian painted them 

or God lifted a pinkie on the 7th day. 

The beauty of the Lady Gould,

some say, is the result of evolution. 

There was no grand designer,

most scientists maintain.

The Lady Gould is one big accident 

that happened eons ago. 

I find it comforting to stare at them 

and know otherwise.