Unfit like dodos, hope
are eggs we count
before we crush them
with our weight.
It’s like the parchment
promise signed
with borrowed blood,
the blindfold driving,
speeding into bleeding.
It’s like the careful
counting of deficiencies
that never can add up.
It’s burning midnight oil
writing poetry.
But unfit like dodos,
we must cope.
The singing birds in egg count © by Twins Seven Seven
Today it’s flash 55, with Kerry’s addition of using the art work by Nigerian Artist Twins Seven Seven at toads. The dodo was a bird of Mauritius without wings, and the artwork made me think of the dodo, and maybe a little of ourselves, humanity being dodos too. I will also link up to Poetry Pantry tomorrow.
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Ah, burning midnight oil writing poetry….I can identify with that! Our deficiencies may never add up, or we may choose not to recognize them. And, yes, we must cope. Somehow we must!
One of my favourite writers on here, I’m always impressed with your penmanship on a subject.
Unfit like dodos, hope
are eggs we count
before we crush them
with our weight.
It’s like the parchment
promise signed
with borrowed blood, – exceptional writing.
“speeding into bleeding.” this one’s a keeper and so is the last stanza…
If we take to much time noting how we aren’t perfect, we will crush all the things that might hatch into something better. Best to keep the good eggs warm, and not worry too much about the cracked ones.
Well the subject matter might be a bit grave – but this is exciting writing! Wonderful use of words; my new favourite Bjorn poem.
Coping. Precious few alternatives. Unless you are a Dodo, I guess.
You take such a strong stand in this poem, Bjorn. Each line is resonant. I love the comparisons and the emblematic dodo says it all.
It’s like the careful
counting of deficiencies
that never can add up.
…love that!!
This is absolutely incredible writing 😀 especially in awe of ‘hope
are eggs we count before we crush them with our weight.’ ❤
What a surreal and also perfectly sensible poem – we are indeed like dodos.. but i am glad we have pens and poems 😉
That is precisely how I felt this weekend! Love the line “counting of deficiencies that never add up”.
Yes, that was how we felt, like a dodo – ancient and forgotten!
Hank
Yes sometimes we must cope despite deficiencies and hopefully will rise above them!
This is Loredana from my new blog, Magic of Words ~ here is the link of my latest poem shared with Poets United:
https://magicofwordsblog.wordpress.com/2016/08/28/stand-tall/
Hope you’re well, Bjorn 🙂
Really an excellent twist for this picture, and a mirror of birth that produces a changeling of power; fortunately or not, we can’t seem to live without hope. I especially like “the blindfold driving,
speeding into bleeding…” and fine use of rhyme, especially the echo at the end.
That first verse… we are the enemy of ourselves.
Poets, unfit like Dodds. I love It!
Oh! I’ve never met a dodo, so a poet hatching and crushing eggs is going to have to stand in for one. Love the alliteration that keeps me bungling my way toward the end. I feel the same way.
I like the comparison of poets like dodos.
This poem has some wonderful images, Bjorn. That very first one sticks with me: hope as eggs that are eventually crushed. A stark, beautiful thought.
Interesting and very creative!
It’s like the careful
counting of deficiencies
that never can add up……..wow, how this can be translated to aspects of humantiy. I enjoyed this read very much.
Love this Bjorn. I like how your mind works and the thoughts you’ve come up with here. We are all dodos. So true.
Hope crushed = poems attempted to be written. Creative writing,
Elizabeth
promise signed
with borrowed blood…..great lines .
“the blindfold driving, speeding into bleeding” – Woozers: an awesome line: it brings to mind, a thousand insanities. .
Futility, futility, all it futility. Nice, Bjorn, I’m glad there was no answer for these tribulations. My favorite one, the one I relate to, is
“…the careful counting of deficiencies that never can add up.” Mrs. Jim was treasurer for a fundraising charity that had lunches for its members and guests. The books never would add up to a multiple of the plate costs. The other officers would be unhappy that her books didn’t balance. But the trouble was that the people taking in the money didn’t account for the “Keep the change” jar. Nor the forgiving of a dollar or two when the person might be a little short.
..
Strong poem theme through this one. We picked the same painting!
That is a great first stanza, so apt for the image and its title. I was so tempted to choose that image myself – glad I didn’t as your poem is superb!
Thoughtful poem, Bjorn.
is that how the dodo gone extinct, crushing their own eggs with their weight when they sat on them, and not at the hands of man?
certainly thought provoking, in a way. 🙂
We must continue the process to write, i agree, getting too puffed up along the way will only destroy our art and our selves, best be humble and striving. Nice one Bjorn
Thanks for dropping in at my Sunday Lime this week
much love…
ah..the first stanza. What a powerful statement.
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