The Songthrush Poem by Pete Crowther
The Songthrush
Do you remember how the songthrush sang,
Those lovely liquid notes that spilled
Forth from his throat like a mountain stream
So fresh and clean and how they gushed
And filled the clear air of early spring?
Do you recall that speckled breast, the warm
Brown feathers, upright stance, the bird
Head cocked, alert, upon the lawn,
Say, early in the morning
Soon after dawn when yet the dew
Lay wet upon the grass? Now let me ask
When last you saw a songthrush on the lawn
Or heard one sing so that you knew
That spring had come? This bird, too,
Once commonplace, I fear has now become
Just like the shrike and corncrake that our fathers knew,
As rare a sight as some celestial comet
Or shooting star that lights the darkness of the night.
Having found this on the Forum put there by Duncan, I had to come and find it and say that this is so beautiful. A delight to read, a wonderful write, I loved it so much. A lovely explanation and lovely images too. A 10 from me. Love Ernestine XXX
This is so beautiful and so well done, why had I not caught it before, it really moves Thankyou for sharing this fine piece 10, voting system must be flawed, it's worth a twelve easily Love duncan X
Pete, This is a lovely poem. It's so sad to see these birds vanish. They are so good looking and beautiful. We have them here and are called 'Komraza' in my mother language.
I'm so sorry that, being a city girl, I have missed out on all that. It looks like, if I wait a couple more years to go to the country, I might find a wasteland in its place. Thank you for reminding me how precious it all is. Julia
Peter, I am so glad there are people like you making this important point. It seems unless it's oil, we don't care what we destroy. A great poem - loved 'those lovely liquid notes that spilled', gorgeous. Hugs Anna xxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 3:39:41 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Every time I see land being cleared by the clear cut saws, stripped and left bare, I cry, and this poem reminded me that for every tree that goes down, so do the birds homes, etc. How sad, yet how well put! Scarlett