A certain blue-collecting bird from Australia is behind today’s poem and photos, thanks to Bushboy.

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Prompt 20: “Our (optional) prompt for the day is to write a sijo. This is a traditional Korean poetic form. Like the haiku, it has three lines, but the lines are much longer. Typically, they are 14-16 syllables, and optimally each line will consist of two parts.“

First of all, I really enjoyed today’s featured perch rant by Maria L. Berg and the poetry reading with a song by Joy Harjo. Her following verses have stayed with me:

be who you are, even if it kills you.

it will. over and over again

even as you live.

break my heart, why don’t you?

Joy Harjo

And now to today’s protagonist, Satin bowerbird. It is a bird in Australia which collects blue items to impress his mate. Bushboy, who told me about it, regularly provides impressive sights and groovy tunes on his blog. Please have a look at his poem and photo which shows exactly what the bird does. It has made such an impression that I started to look around to see what the bird could collect around here.

The poetry form we were to write today is fully new to me. I like to attempt new things. Here is my first sijo then.

Broken news

If Satin bowerbird moves here, his choice of blue is limited,
think I while clicking on blue trash: a plastic bag, oil bottle, mask.
Birds watch and learn. A week passes. Breaking news is broken plastic. 

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Here are the results of my search for anything that this bird could use for his creation. In the last four photos you can see photo evidence of what happened when the news broke and spread in the bird world. And before somebody sends me to collect the trash instead of taking its photos – I’ve been thinking about it.

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For:

This day in my NaPoWriMo history (2020): The pantoum about the best gift I have ever received – a garden.

The garden

Have I ever come home
to a neat garden in rows
where only that morn
I had wilderness grow?

To a neat garden in rows
two men lent their hands,
I had wilderness grow
but they made it let go.

Two men lent their hands
to the gift of their hearts
but they made it let go
for my birthday with love.

To the gift of their hearts
I will always stay true,
for my birthday with love
they made me grow food.

I will always stay true
where only that morn
they made me grow food.
Have I ever come home?