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An owl in spring smuggles moonlight

within the cowl of his

flight, sits on my roof,

replays his haunts from

the night before. Dreams

and I part, panels on

the roof drink sunlight,

the owl collects his cache

of sunlight that will

fire the flight of

his dreaming incarnation.

Will he dream of me in a

future reverie? That night,

I dream in silver and gold

I have a skin of feathers

the owl summons me but

my wings will not unfold.



Edited by eclipse
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Very, very impressive, Eclipse. I can think of two world class poems about owls. One is called "Owl," and it's by Robert Mezey. The other is called "If the Owl Calls Again at Dusk," and it's by John Haines. I'd say yours is right up there with the best of them.



Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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Hi Eclipse, Welcome to PMO. I enjoyed reading this piece. I found it fascinating. I loved the turn with


will he dream of me


It gave the poem a dimension beyond just another poem about nature. Well done.



~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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Hello and welcome eclipse. Your unusual opening imagery, ”An owl in spring smuggles moonlight in the cowl of his flight” is memorable. “I dream in silver and gold” (moonlight and sunlight?) makes for an overall surreal effect which I enjoyed. Benjamin.

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Nicely done indeed... :-8)


"Unbearable, isn't it? The suffering of strangers, the agony of friends.

There is a secret song at the center of the world, Joey, and its sound is like razors through flesh."


"I don't believe you."


"Oh come, you can hear its faint echo right now. I'm here to turn up the volume.

To press the stinking face of humanity into the dark blood of its own secret heart."

"There's a starving beast inside my chest
playing with me until he's bored
Then, slowly burying his tusks in my flesh
crawling his way out he rips open old wounds

When I reach for the knife placed on the bedside table
its blade reflects my determined face
to plant it in my chest
and carve a hole so deep it snaps my veins

Hollow me out, I want to feel empty"
-- "Being Able To Feel Nothing" by Oathbreaker


"Sky turns to a deeper grey

the sun fades by the moon

hell's come from the distant hills

tortures dreams of the doomed

and they pray, yet they prey

and they pray, still they prey"
-- "Still They Prey" by Cough


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