Sometimes I find myself inspired enough to write a bit of poetry, it’s never much good. But I write it so I can get it out of me and hopefully feel better about myself. This piece is something that came to me on my bike ride today, I was going to pick up some chocolate Easter eggs from an Irish foods importing shop 5 miles away.
It’s a story told in third person, about a man who finds himself unexpectedly. I repeat, I don’t know the first thing about literature and failed my GCSE in the subject. 😉
To have These Wings
by Martin Owens
There was a friend of mine,
not seen for many years,
Who was taught a lesson,
That brings out my fears.
He was driving from work,
Late in the evening.
From old London’s Warf,
His heart was beaming.
For he was a clever soul,
Who’s job was to own.
To profit from that owning,
Through returns off a loan.
A man of men,
A man without men.
A man self contrived,
A man in need of no other.
On this night it was to be,
The strange event took place,
To have fallen ill in a way,
To have have had such a taste.
See his car had stopped,
and a silken voice had said:
“I will make of you,
what you think of yourself”
It was the voice of a god,
Sweet as it was forelorned.
It sang a painful song,
And my friend was transformed.
He became a Hawk that night,
Flew from the open car.
Cursed to eat rodents,
And to be by himself.
Now he needs no one,
That much is true.
But now he has no one,
Not even to talk to.
His investments matured,
and his fortunes came in.
But no longer human,
he doesn’t really care.
It takes society to have money,
And people to build things.
Now in a tree on his own,
He has these thoughts and his wings.