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Bird

It's the soul, then, this wild bird caught betimes in my little house?
She's confused, they say, more light!
I must open every window and every every door
To every wind that blows?
But then, 'gainst intruder bug and unwelcome mouse what good these walls?

Don't fuss, they say,
But rush through every room to flush her forth
'Ere she seek and find deeper thralldom
In the soft darkness of the halls.

And so I might if I find in my own darker way,
That all who so insist are right
And that to set her free is up to me.

This is very good stuff, really! I see that you are capable of tempering your playful frolics (Day, Stampede) with meditations of a more sober texture. I enjoy your writing for its versatility, artistry and thought-provoking subject matter.

The psychological condition known as agoraphobia comes to mind - broadly stated, the fear of leaving the home. The analogy of the caged bird / caged spirit is beautifully rendered and an excellent metaphor. By the way, I absolutely loved "deeper thralldom".

And so I might if I find in my own darker way,
That all who so insist are right
And that to set her free is up to me.

*** And after watching the 6 o'clock news who is to say that the narrator is wrong and all who insist are correct? There are insects and mice a'plenty walking among us.

Very nice, and once again, thank you for sharing!

I enjoyed this poem, although the formal language through me off in the beginning. I like your playful imagery, nicely done

Thanks so much for reading and your thoughtful response. I meant never to use a word like 'soul' in a poem, and now I've violated my own rule.

-- 16 Nov 2015, 19:42 --

Thank you, CC for reading and commenting. The language is a little 19th century archaic , a mode that I often lapse into.