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Girls are wary of coloured feathers,
and that’s why you stay in shades of brown.
I never thought that you could do that,
using so many tints. You seem appealing,
but not too bright to raise the senses.

You’ve learned over the years,
and memorised the calls of other fowl.
I must admit that I’m impressed,
that I have to bow to experience
like you bow to show humility.

Click, click and you’ve learned
yet another song. You always chose
to investigate newer tunes, looking
to increase your repertoire.
I should warn the others.

It’s funny how the girls have turned away,
ignoring the buzz and whirr
that you found. You haven’t noticed,
but I think your chorus is over.
You’re singing your death.
©2008-2009 ~DaughterOfSet
:icondaughterofset:

Author's Comments

A poem I wrote, blurring the edges between man and lyrebird.

Oh, yes. Indeedy.

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:iconfrostbitesback:
I think you put it under sestina by accident.

But i like it, the idea behind it is interesting.
:icondaughterofset:
I did indeed, lol, thanks for telling me that :)
Thanks... I hope Charlie likes it :/

--
"I have a magpie mind: I like anything that glitters!"

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November 24, 2008
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