the wild green parrot
came from afar
a slave in an iron cage
to be free was his dream
for chains and bars
could not contain his rage
one day he escaped
and found his kin
and swore a solemn vow
if death was the price
no slave would he be
never again would he bow
now birds and all men
remember the garden
and yearn to see the sky
no jailer can curb
the strength of a soul
it must break free and fly
A very beautiful poem. The spirit or the soul can never be put in shackles. Freedom is everyone's right.
I thought so. The monk parakeet broke loose. Now it's our turn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I appreciate your poem Barry.. It is a very nicely written one. It reminded me of a wonderful poem by Rabindranath Tagore, where two birds - one of the forest and the other of the cage - converse.. The bird of the forest asks the caged bird to come out of its cage.. But despite luring it, the caged bird moves not... See, if I could put an opinion here with regards to your poem and the question you ask to Nosheen - the answer will be thus - Most people are 'caged birds' and satisfied in being so... Whereas artists are not.. Maybe artists are almost migratory, scratch it, VAGABOND birds (I don't if it is correct usage, just pardon me if I am being wrong) ... The caged bird is trapped but has a feeling of 'safety', the migrating bird is free but its path is settled, only the vagabond can perhaps have what we call 'freedom' in its full sense... But then the caged bird is a coward, the migratory one is a calculated risk taker, and only the third one is the ultimate risk taker... There can be no freedom without a heavy price, isn't it, my friend? ? P: S: Can I call you friend Barry? ? We have a mutual one in Dimitrios..
Interesting observations. I agree. Poets are more sensitive and emotionally intense. We reacting to things many ignore. But the vagabond is a wanderer. I actually identify more with the hermit. He is safe but lives in a world of his own, not so much as caging himself in as caging the world out. P.S. - all poets are my friend.