I fought this poem the entire way and, as usual, the poem won:
The chirp of the flirty bird curls lightly on the flesh-- and they who hear absorb the vibrant end of the birdy's sonic thread. Apart from the howl and hoot, in a parcel of ample space, the sweet bird embraces a rhythmic tufted bop and binds the living race.
If music be the food f love…don’t shoot it. Glad you got thrashed.
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Much appreciated π Could never shoot the little sweethearts when they chirp and bop.
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Good to hear. lol
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I am really loving your poetry, your perspective and worsmithery is marvelous and this little gem is no exception. Wrestle away! π
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Thank you so much! That’s a lovely compliment and I plan to keep on producing π
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I love that you say your fought the poem and it won ; made me smile .. thanks for sharing
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My pleasure friend. Thank you for reading.
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Proves you can’t cage poems! Let ’em fly free …
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The good poems always win out in the end, as here. Love the last line!
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Thank you, friend. And, yes, they seem to have a way of imposing their will!
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I wish my poems were half as great as yours. I really like this one!
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Your work is quite enjoyable…I’d say you have a voice all your own.
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Thank you. That means a lot.
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