Poetry

The Telephone Bird

By 1st January 2006December 9th, 2019No Comments

There’s a bird in my garden that’s destined for fame.
He is dark and quite scruffy, I don’t know his fame.
Not like Nathan, or Roger, or Peter or Mike,
But like Lanius Collurio, or Red-backed Shrike.

He visits me daily, for the sunflower seed,
For peanuts and water; an avian need.
The goldfinch rewards me with colours so bright.
But this beggar’s dowdy, and a bit of a sight.

He feeds on the fatballs, and gets seeds off the ground.
And couldn’t care less when the cat comes around.
The blackbirds repay me with a late evening song.
But the “scruffbird” will sing neither briefly nor long.

But he does have a talent, related to singing.
He mimics the sound of a telephone ringing.
Sitting up in the treetops, he opens his throat,
And loudly emits an old “trim-phone” sort of note

Now this bird you’ll agree, has a real claim to fame.
And as such he should have an appropriate name.
Nothing silly or flippant, or plainly absurd.
So henceforth, he’ll be known as, “The Telephone Bird.”

Paddy Slevin

Author Paddy Slevin

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