‘Change: Metamorphosis: Transformation’ by Damian Robin The Society April 13, 2015 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 3 Comments As I was flying high and looking down the lonely regent of my tiny crown in one-dimension’s cold and breath-thin air anxiously intent on prey down there I’d had enough of limit’s lonely plains the flat dimensions where my kingdom reigns the mumbled tastes and smells I’d feel and ‘see’ within the fat of corporeality and fed up with an empty stomach’s need of staying calm and poised in hunger/greed of scouring earth and heaven for a feed and of the pumping species’ lust to breed and being just the slight of something more the flight of fancy or the metaphor of some small god or spirit I might be enbarbed into this bird-brained vanity I craved a warmth and blood but not to eat I longed for solid earth and solid feet the camaraderie of group and herd not the cramps of solitary bird for squeezed within this single animal I felt my spirit growth was minimal two forward eyes formed cross wires for one shot with single-minded thoughts towards that shot no sense of ‘love’ towards my hunter kind just single thoughts within a single mind no sense of multiple or larger heart just the calculating killer’s art I held vestigial memories of ‘loves’ but felt harsh hawk affinities to doves I had ideas and knew compassion’s frame like empty victim bones without a name my fuller heart’s desire for kindred flesh where individuality can mesh with individuality and more was not a place I sensed my wings could soar the levels I could climb felt limited and many planes are only passed when dead and dead again one finds another plane and cleans the mind but still there’s matter’s stain in ways predestined helpers have contrived I’m made aware of lives I have survived I know there’s more to me than just one time that even birds can conscience the sublime and while the air around me frictions heat my wings get heavier and cease to beat I feel a future where my wings are feet and I jostle with thick-bodied meat I feel the whole of me come down to earth a loss a fall – I wouldn’t call it birth a drop through branches that I cannot stop the holding sense of present does not stop my feathers shrink to single spines of hair now clumps of ear start sprouting where none were what remains of talons grab on grass and swelling sinew atoms start to pass through moon-spaced eyes to sea-ing skins of deer four-hoofed and heavy weighted hard to steer a double helix seed in me unchains I’m galloping while tissue type constrains fixed in muscle-stretching entropy pumping veins so big so odd so free bumping into others without slipping we flood the plain our hooves are hardly gripping ignoring fear retreating is no use wild and deer with freedom rushing loose I stumble huddle gushing flushing flinging a streaming herd of steaming heart-beats winging Damian Robin lives in England. He works for an international newspaper and a bilingual magazine. He lives with his wife and three children. Feature Image: “Bewicks Swans” by Martin Ridley NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. NOTE TO POETS: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. CODEC News:Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 3 Responses Shari Jo LeKane-Yentumi April 13, 2015 I love the rhyming couplets and the singing flow of the stanzas. Beautiful metamorphosis! Reply Tengero April 23, 2015 Very impressive rhyme and meter in a descriptive piece of merit. Only needs the odd amendment to elevate it to ‘exceptional’. “Bird brain ” I would lose/change if possible? Excellent. Well done! Reply NealD June 6, 2015 A truly thoughtful and thought provoking piece, it is beneficial to contemplate. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.