[stylist] Word: cacophony

[KajunCutie926 at aol.com]

In a message dated 12/1/2011 8:29:11 P.M. Central Standard Time,  
poetlori8 at msn.com writes:

I'd  agree, it is a pretty piece.
I liked the picture of the feathered  baton.
Barbara




Let every nation know whether it wishes  us well or ill, that we shall pay 
any price, bear any burden, meet any  hardship, support any friend, oppose 
any foe, in order to assure the  survival and the success of liberty.--John 
F. Kennedy
-----Original  Message----- 
From: Bridgit Pollpeter
Sent: Thursday, December 01, 2011  4:11 PM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: [stylist] Word:  cacophony

Myrna,

I like this poem. I enjoy the musical thread,  and it stays consistent
throughout the poem. I especially like the final  stanza starting with,
"It is not the beauty of song that draws me  outdoors."

Sincerely,
Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter
Read my blog  at:
http://blogs.livewellnebraska.com/author/bpollpeter/

"History is  not what happened; history is what was written down."
The Expected One-  Kathleen McGowan

Message: 11
Date: Thu, 1 Dec 2011 11:18:24 -0500  (EST)
From: KajunCutie926 at aol.com
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re:  [stylist] Word: cacophony
Message-ID:  <136e6.4a259159.3c0902cf at aol.com>
Content-Type: text/plain;  charset="ISO-8859-1"

When I saw the word I had to share a piece I'd  written  actually titled
'Cacophony'.  It is written in a poetry  form developed by  myself and a
friend,
called a tankabun, a hybrid  if you will of a haibun.   I just hope you
enjoy the  piece..

Cacophony

Such a discordance
Of chirps,  tweets,  and warbled voice
Makes me wonder
If the master composer
Has   misplaced his feathered baton

It is not the beauty of song that draws  me  outdoors, braving the damp
frigidity of this winter morning. It is  the  sheer noise!  This is not a

collaborative effort  becoming one avian voice.  This is not harmony of
sparrow and
wren,  warbler and finch.  No, this is an  exclamatory oration from  each,

determined to be heard in their collective  audacity.   I laugh, joining
the
non-melodious flock, as realization shivers   through me.  These are the
off-key
mutterings of winged  friends,  discovering that winter has neither
frozen
their  wardrobes nor silenced their  voices.  The master's baton has  not
been
misplaced after all and even  he applauds them and this,  an impromptu
composition of feathered   cacophony.


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