NaPoWriMo Day One: Patrick Widdess – Birds

Welcome to this year’s NaPoWriMo podcast. This is the first of 30 daily podcasts coming throughout April with poems and prompts from me and other poets. I hope you will be inspired to write lots of new poems. So here’s today’s prompt:


Let your imagination take flight with a poem about or involving birds. It might be one particular bird or a whole flock. It could be the main subject of your poem or just flit through the background. Here’s a poem about capturing the beauty of birds and putting it on the page.

Bird of paradise

Where? I hear you ask.
See among those leaves?
That dark green one is its head.
See how its beak snips the air
like a pair of kitchen scissors.
Now you see its wings: Great fans of fire,
each feather a flaming arrow.
Its body cools and evaporates
into a white waterfall of tail feathers.
You’re probably flinching at the way
it wields its dinosaur claws as it takes flight.
See how it fills the sky, like an exploding firework,
yet fits on the page, hidden among
delicate strokes of black on white.

Patrick Widdess

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3 thoughts on “NaPoWriMo Day One: Patrick Widdess – Birds”

  1. the soft glide of elbow tectonics

    it’s an open secret that the best salsa and flamenco dancers
    watch hours of birds of paradise before competitions

    like a cowgirl
    studying the grain of a steer’s unstringed bows

    camellia growing unchecked around the crematorium

    flower petals even rot almost gracefully
    and soon,

    like an overturned pepperoni truck
    left to nature

    bird bones turned hollow
    but the way they breathe makes me cough-chuckle in delight

    rivaled only by the cherry blossoms dancing in my paper windows
    pink trumpets full of air

    Yeah, I’m getting to that:
    that’s how i ended up in an actual tub of popcorn
    how i became a bird’s rescue person in the person rescue program

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Shall we crow

    I don’t care what you humans think of me
    stop blaming me for your unfortunates
    doesn’t black mean ambiguous and powerful?
    I always love my voice, specially when it goes with gusty, howling wind
    and no matter what time of the day it is
    I bet most of you can’t do that
    even refuse to hear your own voice
    some even rarely speak
    forgetting how your lives started


  3. Crumbs

    Because the traffic slows
    for me to cross at the busy junction
    a seagull dropping narrowly
    misses me on the middle lane.

    It isn’t to know that I have
    just baked a vegan cake
    with coconut flour the supermarket
    was going to bin. I recall how it
    wobbled like a crusty swamp after half an hour
    in the oven, and even now is being
    divided into generous chunks.

    That bird can already smell it
    and will be winging into town
    to peck at the crumbs and the
    burnt corner piece discarded
    by a reformed armed robber
    on his way to a parole meeting.

    Liked by 1 person

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