I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

This year, I had a clash in my timetable so I had to alter it. I had previously picked a module that links in well with my other ones. However, because I had to change it, I ended up in a pretty random class. I had never deviated away from the classes that I know how to structurally write for. All over, I thought it was hard because I had to reflect and think, rather than memorise and repeat. I really enjoyed it. It was the first time in a while that I found myself reading the assigned readings because I wanted to, rather than I had to.
This poem stuck with me. It was one of the first times I read poetry as art instead of homework. I hope you like it as much as I did.
——
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
 
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
 
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
 
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
 
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
 
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
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The year we found ourselves

The year we found ourselves
My eyes were open
My heart was strong
And I was happy

The summer air
Made it easy to breathe
Filling each moment
With sunshine and happiness

The darkest cloud
Could not prevent
The radiating happiness
In everyone around us

I never knew I was so young in the world
And my eyes were opened again
The year we found ourselves
Was really the year we found each other

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I wish I could do more

Each moment that I can
I’ll give you my everything

Without hesitating
Or being asked
I’ll do the dishes
Or hoover somewhere

If it saves you a moment
That you’ll choose
To put into something else
Probably to help me

I wish I could give you more
Because you have given me everything
Without ever asking
Or asking for appreciation

I’ll try to help
But it will never be enough
To thank you for everything

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Sea blues and flaming browns

I believe there is more to the eye
Than just the eye
Filled with deep sea blues or flaming browns
Captivating each person who stares

Yet

Eye colour is lazy when describing someone
The blue eyes you see might have never seen an ocean
Their eyes do not reflect the sky like the sea does
Nor does their anger reflect the vicious waves

The brown eyes you see might see more rain than sun
Who paints in vibrant colours
From the natural green world
Growing outside and around them

When you look at someone
It is not the colour you notice
Or what you want to look at
You have to look behind the eye

It is their stare
Either filled with
Confidence or cautiousness
That genetics could never take credit for

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I Told You So

Big shot
Big man
Cannot be controlled

Big man
Big shot
Could have been told

From wise people
With wise words to say
No one understood
Why he went his own way

Instead of admitting defeat
Placed everyone below
But can never ignore
The “I told you so”

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Pinterest Appreciation

I never really realised how much I used Pinterest until I started recommending it to people. Originally, I was only on it to follow people and get photos. However, somehow it has become one of my favourite apps. It became my sort of “wind down app” before bed.. if that makes sense.

I don’t have the pressure of being “online” like facebook, nor do I have to engage in much like tumblr or youtube. But on Pinterest, I can just scroll and save pretty things. It’s nice.

Recently, I’ve been trying to pay attention to my nutrition intake and my pinterest board had helped me by just being able to refer to it.

It is also filled with endless writing prompts... which is pretty fun.

One day in class my teacher asked who used Pinterest, and no one put their hand up. It was a majority male class so I didn’t want to be the only one to admit to even knowing what this website was. But I’m not ashamed!

Pinterest appreciation! 

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House Fairies

Fairies have always been a popular creature in Ireland with Irish folklore. I’ve grown up with different interpretations of fairies, and visited many of the different landmarks around Ireland that cater to the fairy folk.

My dad used to bring me home any book he could get his hands on because he knew, just like him, I would read anything. He would buy from charity shops and practically bring the same books back the next day to donate again. To this day I still think it’s the best way to read as many books as possible. So although I can’t thank him for bringing home the greatest literature of the century, I can always thank him for bringing me the love of reading as much as possible. I enjoyed all the books of course, but it was mostly light reading that could be read and passed on.

For my mum, reading was a very different experience. She would never read something that she knew she wouldn’t enjoy and would stop reading a book if it bored her or if anything else bothered her about it. However, she is responsible for introducing me to some of my favourite books that will always stay with me. My dad never knew what to pick out for me, which broadened my types of novels I read. But my mum knew what to look for and every once in a while she would arrive home with a book that would capture my heart.

One of these books was about a ‘faery’ named  Knife. Researching it today for this post, I discovered it was only the beginning of a series called Faery Rebels.  I had never heard of the book or author when I first got it, but it intrigued me so much. My “reading ego” was a bit high, so I wasn’t too impressed when my mum brought me a book that I had never heard of before, but after reading it I was almost mad at myself for almost being too stubborn to read it. Looking back on it, it probably does have a weird story line that wouldn’t stand out to me now. But it was just something completely different to anything I had ever read before.

I raved about it a lot to anyone who would listen, and got all of my friends interested in this mysterious new book. Although I never had the “fairy phase” growing up of Irish folklore or pretty little colourful fairies, I had a new understanding of them.

Also, it became a joke in my house that everything that happened was because of the group of faeries now living in the house. To this day we would refer to the “Water Faery” who never returns water bottles to the kitchen, or the “Shoe Faery” who steals my mothers shoes that conveniently always end up in my bedroom…

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