Thursday, 5 January 2017

A poem by Stuart Bartholomew


At swingball speed, the wren
arcs towards the square
of light. The spittoon clang
of beak on glass chills;

the bird hitting laminate
is the soft touch of a brush.

Will small birds ever
forgive us for erecting
invisible walls across
banks of open sky?

Will we ever forgive them
for being able to fly?

Stuart Bartholomew runs a large bookshop in the centre of Birmingham. He is a founding member of Birmingham’s new Poetry Society Stanza Group, and was recently asked by Writing West Midlands to judge this year’s Birmingham Laureate contest. He is Co-director and Lead Programmer of Verve: A new Birmingham Festival of Poetry and Spoken Word which is scheduled for 16-19 February 2017. Sometimes, he writes poetry.

1 comment:

  1. First of all, I think birds might be my favorite subject for a poem. And trees. I'm also very fond of poems made of questions (Pablo Neruda, anyone?). So this one tickles my fancy quite nicely. A wonderful vignette you've crafted here.