Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

The Night Bird

“Good night,” I say to you
In darkness of barren crescent moon
Before this steel-laden gate
So strongly standing at late

How precipitous it rises
Secured by a four-digit code
Ten-thousand possibilities, the one
I forget, if I have ever known

Rested upon a cool steely spade
A dark silk figure stares intently
Down upon me, silently, unmoving
Familiar, almost, ‘lest my mind deceive

Returning my eyes to her,
I see but a dimmed silhouette
Of gently moving lips and stony eyes
Repeating, “…and nothing more”

“Go home,” she echoes, “and forget
This passing girl who does not
Belong to you yesterday, today,
Tomorrow, or thereaft’

I feel the warmth of her
Hand brushing my cheek
But for how long has it been
And why, you tease, must it end?

A raven’s squawk screeches
In the thickening night air
As she turns and walks away
Towards the shifting gate

“What is the code?” I beg
In a nearly-resigned tone
As she passes through closing bars
Whilst my chest tightens in anticipation

Only after the click of locks
While she continued, unstopping,
Did I struggle to hear her murmur,
“Never will you know”

At home, as I lay in bed’s rest
The chime of the grandfather’s clock
Sounds against these empty walls
A fresh twenty-four hours await ahead


But just as my lids fall sullen
I am violently stirred from slumber
By the deafening bellicose rapping
Of that same familiar night bird

On my bedroom door.



Join the Discussion

This article has 6 comments. Post your own now!

xXsmileXx This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Oct. 6, 2010 at 7:14 pm
Will I ever stumble upon a poem from you that disappoints me? Well to begn, this poem is thickly woven with sorrow and longing. Sadly, these tones tend to make the best poetry. I also have to compliment the imagery, for not a single poem of yours has left me with no scenery. My poems havent been worth reading or even posting lately; turns out happiness is a difficult theme to work with. But I always look forward to drawing inspiration from the perfection in your technique. All thats left to... (more »)
 
chrisbriones replied...
Oct. 10, 2010 at 11:11 pm
Thank you very much, friend. I'm glad that you have not felt the need to write relflective of pain, aren't you? However, i look forward to reading that masterpiece of yours when you finally find the right thing to say, with the suitable words, to portray your happiness. It's not true that happiness is an inferior inspiration, rather, it'd make the work all the more impressive. Best of luck on your present writing.
 
Thesilentraven This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Sept. 28, 2010 at 6:14 pm
Another wonderful work, of course. You must tire of repitive compliments, but I must say that your poetry is composed of the beautiful language that is nearly extinct among adolescents. The rhythm of this poem is phenomenal.
 
Thesilentraven This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Sept. 28, 2010 at 6:19 pm
The only interpretation which I am bold enough to offer is what seemed obvious to me. A girl is drifting away, and her admirer is searching for the 'code' that will unite them. The night bird is his reminder of his inability to succeed.
 
Thesilentraven This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Sept. 28, 2010 at 6:20 pm

I love this piece, for it speaks somewhat of my namesake.

Best of luck with your troubles, my friend.

 
chrisbriones replied...
Sept. 28, 2010 at 10:53 pm

Ah, as expected from you! Thank you very much. However, i would like to clarify one thing: this is of hope where hope cannot flourish; of desire where it has no place; of culminated illusions where bluntness resides; of faith where there is no God. Amazing what one person can do to you. Alas, i have played into the delusion which i crafted myself-- hoping that no meant yes; hoping that i was enought for the that tease.

Obsession has never felt so right.

 
Site Feedback