by Lynn White
The dove sat carefully on Liberty
lining her nest with down.
She cooed sweetly
but her new chick
said ‘coo-ark’
mimicking her,
then ‘quark,
then ’yawp’
as it grew
stronger,
she saw
her cuckooed dove
hatchling
was a mocking bird,
calling
in New-Speak
straining
to be understood,
straining
for more space,
more gas,
more gold,
more
like
a colonising colonel
balanced precariously
puffing out his dovey chest,
as his eagle’s eye
preys south
then north,
the Middle
East
then West.
If we don’t clip his wings
where will he go next?
lining her nest with down.
She cooed sweetly
but her new chick
said ‘coo-ark’
mimicking her,
then ‘quark,
then ’yawp’
as it grew
stronger,
she saw
her cuckooed dove
hatchling
was a mocking bird,
calling
in New-Speak
straining
to be understood,
straining
for more space,
more gas,
more gold,
more
like
a colonising colonel
balanced precariously
puffing out his dovey chest,
as his eagle’s eye
preys south
then north,
the Middle
East
then West.
If we don’t clip his wings
where will he go next?
 |
| AI-generated graphic by Nightcafé for The New Verse News |
Lynn White lives
in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and
events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially
interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality and
writes hoping to find an audience for her musings. She was shortlisted
in the Theatre Cloud 'War Poetry for Today' competition and has been
nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award.
Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Apogee, Firewords, Peach Velvet, Light Journal, and So It Goes.
