“Quiet Birds”, posted for Oneshotpoetry.com

"Nuthatches", watercolor, 2006, Jane Kohut-Bartels

QUIET BIRDS

–

Quiet birds!

I have not changed you into metaphors yet.

Your chatter adds crystallized chaos

To last nights tokaji clouding the brain.

My eyes open with reluctance

To splinters of light

Challenging soft, painful membranes.

–

The smell of black coffee cuts

Into the reality I am no longer young.

A night like last should be wrapped in tissue

Locked deep in a trunk,

To find when I am past temptations-

Having room only for memories and regrets.

–

Quiet birds.

The day looks promising.

I await a new flock of metaphors

With polished feathers

To land on my shoulders,

Weighing me down-

Colorful daydreams,

Peacock words,

Bird of Paradise thoughts!

–

For some reason,

Words, whole paragraphs,

Circle my head, then

Flap off in a thunder of wings.

–

I hear laughter of rude crows,

See a mess of bird droppings,

And with a few cracked seeds

begin my penitence-

Starvation wages for a poor poet,

Left to a flightless life.

–

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2008, 2011

With thanks to George Szirtes, for the words: “Quiet Birds, I haven’t changed you into metaphors yet.”  I couldn’t resist.

–

Picture of author from "White Cranes of Heaven", Lulu.com

I wrote 1/2 of a BDSM novel last year, called “Az Kapitany” (Hungarian for “The Master”,

and on a dare, put it on Authonomy.com.  I am amazed that it even got noticed, it’s only 32000 words so far….but I am getting a number of very, very good crits.

This morning, I opened my mail…and there was a comment by obviously a Hungarian man, and it’s good to have another Magyar  reading this book.  It’s heavily into Hungarian  Dom culture,  or that what I know of it,  but it’s more relying on the vineyard culture.

Funny!  Just when you think you are writing about something obscure….vineyards,  up pops another writer ALSO knowledgeable (far more so than I) about Hungarian wine culture. He complained that I called Tokaji, Tokay.  Sorry, Sandrine….my Hungarian is slipping…

Sandrine very elegantly wrote about the bloodshed, history and purpose of calling this lovely wine (and it IS a nectar) Tokaji, so I humbly apologize to him for this slight to our shared Hungarian culture.

So, in honor of Sandrine, I am posting a Hungarian poem….with apologies to George S. for using the first line:  “Quiet birds.  I haven’t made you into a metaphor yet”.  This line is from his poem, but I haven’t read it.  Just loved the line, and wrote him about using it.  He was friendly until I told him….

Something about being Hungarian and thievery…..

Lady Nyo

QUIET BIRDS!
Jane Kohut-Bartels
June, 2008

Quiet birds!
I have not changed you into metaphors yet.
Your chatter adds crystallized chaos
to last night’s tokaji droning  upon the brain.
My eyes open with reluctance to splinters of light
challenging soft membranes.

The smell of black coffee cuts
Into the reality I am no longer young.
Nights like last should be wrapped in tissue
locked deep in a trunk, to find when I am past temptations
and have room only for memories and regrets.

Quiet, birds.
The day looks promising,
awaiting a new flock of metaphors with black polished feathers
to land on my shoulders and weigh me down
with colorful daydreams, peacock words, Bird of Paradise thoughts!
Labor enjoins heart and mind and a now-callused ass.

For some reason this morning, words, whole paragraphs,
circle my head, flap off in a thunder of wings,
laughter of rude cawing crows in my ears
leaving bird droppings, a few cracked seeds to begin my penitence;
starvation wages for a poor poet,  left to a flightless life.