Poetry

A Kingdom of Feathers
By M.C. Maxwell
Wandering through the wilderness,
I found a towering tree, showered
by bright birds, flooded with feathers.
Ravens and Crows, perching on the
lofty branches, surveying the shadows,
scouting, yielding dark magic, Magicians.
Doves rest on the bare bark, broken,
clinging to the slivers of innocence,
collecting fine feathers, royalty, Queens.
Cardinals sway, crackling like fire,
igniting thin twigs, a burning sensation,
expelling fiery comets, red beasts, Dragons.
Blue jays balance, wings extend like blades,
floating, translucent bubbles, feathers sharpen
at the titanium tips, arrows swiftly soar, Archers.
Ancient Owls stand stoically, they watch
for a successor, etching symbols into the
dark wood, a warrior’s anthem, golden, Kings.
Hummingbirds howl, their inner senses rise,
meditation and hearts connect kindly, preparing
for the war, clashing commences, Knights.
Finches intermingle, embroidering fabric with
feathers from the fallen, showcasing the kingdom’s
coat of arms, history and religion, unity, Artisans.
Pigeons seek crumbs, pecking at the disorder,
wallowing on broken limbs and shattered leaves,
thriving on the outskirts of the trunk, Beggars.
Quail conceal themselves, embracing treasures,
emeralds sprouting from branches, shimmering,
following the myth, a hooded army, Assassins.
After I took in the majestic scenery, I set a spark at the base
of the castle, causing the bark to burn black and crumble into
a circle of decay. Then I left, seeking another kingdom to conquer.