Hello dear readers, I would like to send a big thank you to, a dear penfriend of mine, and fellow poet, for her help and collaboration with the writing of this poem, especially the last stanza, which was a jumbled mess at one stage.
Knock Me Down With A Feather
The winds may be strong
In the direction of my swan song
Blowing fresh upon my face
I feel a roar from grace
Crooked feathers do fly
Old feathers become dry
Angel’s wings soaring on the wind
Angel’s wings failing, are left behind
After the breakages
There’s a wreckage
And I must restart the race again
For aching bones, it’s a strain
Too many pieces down the drain
Every-time I showered, in the warm rain
I see my world, in scrambled grades
From loving rainbows, to gliding downhill on roller blades
Where true words were found, deep in the ever-glades
And I’m not afraid, to call my dirty pitchfork a silver spade
Ivor Steven (c) October 2019