Stab by Stephen Kingsnorth

Stephen Kingsnorth | Feb 25th, 2020 | poetry | No Comments


My class mates, having flown the nest,
each nurtured as their type,
a brood once nestled underneath
transfused with feathered milk.

There are a few cuckoos,
transplanted other sets,
orphaned, unwanted, given up,
ruff moniker round neck.

Some born myth of kingfishers,
from rafts of raging seas,
their halcyon remembered,
perch statues flown in flash.

One faithful is of woodpecker –
claims rebirth through the tree,
while twins borne by buzzard,
seek another sort of prey.

Top scorer is the owlet,
found wisdom working nights,
while plodders are the waders,
the curlew, redshank, snipe.

My own would be pelican,
breast-stabbing vein release;
I speak not of self-harming,
except self-sacrifice.

She daily pours her life-blood,
the cords of love which bind,
as cordial she pulses,
to grant her son his rites.

Poet Bio

Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church, has had pieces accepted by over a dozen on-line poetry sites; and Gold Dust, The Seventh Quarry, The Dawntreader, Foxtrot Uniform Poetry Magazines & Vita Brevis Anthology.

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