Ten-Minute Spill (work in progress)

“A bird in the hand can get lonely,”
Mother’s robotic voice whirs.
“If all the other kids jump off a cliff-”
But why should I listen to her?
She raised us with licks and no promise,
Spat out like watermelon seeds.
We’re floating downstream with no future;
Baby Moses in our leaky beds of reeds.
You can’t practice if there’s no preaching.
Little birds don’t fall far from the tree.

This results from a writing exercise by Rita Dove in the book “The Practice of Poetry.” The goal was ten lines in ten minutes beginning with an adage that is changed in some way. Not bad for a first effort I think and I’ll come back over time to revise it.

1 Response to “Ten-Minute Spill (work in progress)”

  1. September 6, 2010 at 17:48

    Not bad at all my friend.

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