Birds

Image1: The mother bird perched on the branch  and the baby bird clamoring with beaks open

Image2: The mother bird came back again this time with what looked like  a cherry


Note: We're to pick a prose and then convert it into poetry. I decided to re-post 2 postings on how I came about writing my first poetry from my own prose.

Process Notes
This is an actual drama which happened in front of my eyes. I had it posted as a prose on June 01,2010 (here) Sometime in Oct, I was encouraged to go into poetry by 2 wonderful bloggers (Ninot and Pak Cik) I searched myself on how to start. Short on ideas, I decided to turn the prose that I had written 5 months earlier into poetry. At least I had something tangible to start with, I thought. I had the poetry posted on Oct 10,2010 (here).

At that time my understanding of poetry was that the rhyme at the end of each line must be maintained. So this poetry has that traditional trademark and it took me the whole night and the wee hours of the next morning to complete it - my very first effort in poetry writing!

The Prose

Birds had always fascinated me. Nothing prepared me to what happened this morning though (June 01,2010). It was a rare occurrence, a rare opportunity.I had a chance to snap pictures of a mother bird feeding its young all at my front porch.

I’ve been told there’s a bird’s nest just outside the house. It was pointed out to me a few day’s ago but I didn’t give it much attention. It looked empty anyway. However, this morning my domestic helper called out to me, excitedly ‘ Bapak, ada burung! (translation: Sir. there's a bird)

I rushed down and had a glimpse of it before it flew out again. I then rushed back to get my camera and stood at a strategic corner where I could see the nest and waited.

I waited for the better of 15 mins before I heard the chirping sound of the bird. It grew louder and it suddenly jumped into sight. I froze, careful not to reveal my presence. I had never stood still, upright and quiet this morning ( not since those days on the parade grounds back at the College) It was painstakingly a stiff neck posture holding the camera with unsteady hands.

It jumped about but still not nearer to its nest, apparently to make sure the coast was clear.Then suddenly it jumped into my camera’s sight and I just clicked and clicked. This happened for quite some while, it bringing little tit bits for the baby bird and I snapping every so often.

The Poetry

A Little Bird 

What a stroke of good fortune

I’d not with such luck be blessed?

One morning , 2010, the 1st of June

A little baby bird stirred in a nest

Not unlike a flower in bloom

As on a silver platter it dropped

There in front of the living room

A drama unfurled, unrehearsed sans props

Our Indon helper had spied movements

She just couldn’t believe her eyes

In a nest that appeared unwittingly dormant

A baby bird suddenly comes alive

She rushed to tell me, ‘Bapak , ada burung!

A little amused , I thought she’d turned randy

But, lo! In all innocence, she wasn’t wrong

A baby bird right in front of my eyes to see.

My turn it is now to rush , and praying hard

From a vantage position behind the curtains, I hid

Still as the night, and stiff as the palace guard

I stood, camera at the ready, quietly for my first bid

Pray be, mother bird come back to roost to thy nest

I’m waiting, I’m waiting, had never been into bird-watching

But favour me, fly in, on your crown that upright crest

Just swoop in, pray be, my camera will be clicking

What do you know, my prayers were answered

Not once ,not twice but that many that I had hoped

‘twas click, click, click,click, was I flustered?

No, a better part of the hour, my patience aptly rewarded

Mother bird, swooped in, a tiny insect in its beak

On a tiny branch it perched, just above the nest

Baby bird, neck stretching , beak wide open ever so quick

So hungry and impatient, it gobbled and chomped at nature’s best

I waited again the morning after hoping for more

Mother bird never did appear and true to form

Unlike the swallows that are faithfully back to Capistrano

The baby bird flew off a few days after never to return

Submitted for d'Verse, Meeting the Bar - Prose to Poetry