The title of the following poem is taken from a book written a long
time back by James Hadley Chase. Even though I haven’t read this book
myself, my uncle used to tell us the stories when we were young. This
title lived in me for a long, long time and today at work it struck me
Vulture Is A Patient Bird.
Rain came down all around filling,
Every bit of Earth around and my soul,
Flowers sprouted and with breeze danced,
So did I upon the meadows, in my wanderings alone.
The parrots, sparrows and robins,
Gave away music in competition,
So did I along with the birds with my whistles.
Some mornings woke up I,
And listened to the nightingales pathos,
That always reminded me of a heart in silence,
Somewhere away far away from me.
The warmth in the air went away,
So did all the fellow singers,
Nature’s ballet around the meadows closed,
The nightingale some mornings still sung,
But most of the time the boo of owl I heard,
May be mocking the loser left alone.
The Artic breeze slowly gained its strength,
But I was still there upon the meadows,
Going round and round in my walking,
Time and seasons make no sense,
To a waiting heart in chaos.
Silence induced in the freezing rain, fear,
That led to anger and oneself in battle,
With conscience about the purpose,
Someone won in the mind boggling game,
In through the cold evening breeze I walked,
To go as far away as I can,
From every bit of life I know and I may know.
As the evening grew darker and darker,
And my legs grew heavier and heavier,
Under the lonely fat tree I laid.
Upon the tree I heard the pecking of the beaks,
In the half moon light I saw,
Vultures from branch to branch hopping,
Upon the hardwood barks sharpening,
Their beaks with their bloody eyes upon me.
‘Come and eat me when you are ready, Said I,
As at least to your belly may be beneficial,
This unfortunate vagabond’s flesh and blood’.
I woke up next morning finding myself,
Though a bit frozen but bright and sound.
To my surprise the Vultures were still up there,
Oh’ hungry they were,
And every bit of them in chaos,
But they have their laws of nature,
And they wait till life is gone away,
From their pray forever,
Their patience shown me more light,
Than the gloomy wintry morn spreading,
With a smile back to the meadows I walked,
To wait for my darling to be ready to speak.