Parrot Times
Poems
© 2004 Jodi Giwoyna
All Rights Reserved
Plight of the Parrot
by Terri L. Doe

The Rainforest where we once lived
was lush and thick and green
The trees they reached into the sky
like none that most have seen.

And in the tree's a hollow spot
is where we both would go,
For in the hollow, we would lay
our eggs as white as snow.

The forest it had plenty
of food for us to eat
And water holes where animals
would play and swim and meet.


One day as I was in my log
I heard an awful sound,
I flew out to the lookout branch
to see what lurked around.

A human with his nets and gloves,
machete and a sack,
Had come to steal our chicks from us,
Oh how I want them back.

And when he took our little chicks
I heard a piercing cry,
He dropped my chick from up above,
I had to watch him die.

And when he left, we went to see
our hollow and our nest
Our family was gone you see,
our place where we would rest.


The village man, he walked for miles
through forest thick and green,
The babies cried inside the bag,
it hurt to hear them scream.

Into the village with the bag
the merchants came to see,
When opened up a single chick
is all that there would be.

On the bottom lay my chick
his body limp and frail,
His eyes sunk in, his wrinkled skin,
no longer would he wail.

The thunders coming closer
the tree shakes from the ground,
Branches flying everywhere
our home is falling down.

I fly away and then I see
my mate is no where near,
I search above the tree tops
no calls for me to hear.

And on the ground my lifelong mate
lies still as still can be,
And we will never mate again
and never will be three.

And all the trees where we once lived
are gone forever now,
For roads and pastures take their place
and ranchers with their cows.

Our food supply has dwindled
our water hole is gone,
No place to rest my tired wings
Dear mate it won't be long.

Soon you will not see us
in the forest if you look,
The library is where we'll be
inside a picture book.

So won't you tell your children
of the parrots you once knew,
And rest your head at night with ease
Knowing, you did all that you could do.



© 1996 Terri L. Doe
All Rights Reserved
terridoe@juno.com

Many of you have forgotten this truth
but you must never forget it:
you remain responsible, forever,
for what you have tamed.


-Antoine de Saint-Exupery
A bird, a bird that has been
Stumbling through pots full of pain
So that his colour's as loud as his voice-
Screeching red, squawking blue,
A shower of shouting grating green,
Besides technicolour swearing and blasting,
He's an exploding palette of a bird,
A jabbering coloured window
With a great yellow sun
Struggling to get out of him
Through the joyous panes of his feathers.


- Gwyn Thomas
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