The Nestling Pushing Out the Innocent Eggs

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The singing of the nightingale brings blood

To spirit and a pure soprano brings

The spirit blood.  These two together thud

The heart like prayers from everlasting springs.

The singing of the tenor brings up souls

From comas caused by commonplace constraints.

The edging beauty of that voice unrolls

Our scarred entrapment as if saved by saints.

The angel wings of violin in song

Are like the red of passion on the rungs

Of loving’s ladder lifting higher, strong,

Much more like Oriental cuckoos’ tongues.

  Those tongues are like a scarlet murder, vast

    Like falling Lucifer from heaven cast.

© Phillip Whidden