Birdsong is a Massage for the Brain
By Jane Hyphen
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Birdsong is a massage for the brain
Piercing notes to shrink
Our gilded entities inflamed
Sound crystals sharp enough to
Burst the perceived bubbles
Of our self-inflicted struggles
The cleanest whistle to wash
Away blue demons
Vain desires that grow real
In the small picture
A pause and here it comes again
Close your eyes,
The message in the shrill drill
From feathered hearts, piped
Art as pure as if it flowed
From skies and trees
The truest elements of life
Home in on lucid chimes
Allow the lint to fall away
Exult, make way for clarity
Up there they sing,
What they see,
Streamed live
For listening ears
The big picture
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Comments
That image of the birdsong
That image of the birdsong 'streamed live for listening ears' is wonderful. I shall remember that.
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This poem is so beautifully
This poem is so beautifully put. Yes you're right, birdsong is most definitely a massage for the brain.
Very much enjoyed.
Jenny.
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Hi, Jane. I came back to this
Hi, Jane. I came back to this today as I was a bit tired getting into it yesterday.
I find it rather easy to 'cut out' the birdsong, maybe because when I do listen to it it is absorbing, but it does pierce in with clarity through the gunge doesn't it. As also, I find in a different way, does looking down at the detail of petals, leaves etc. Rhiannon
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