We are like
a glass-lobby bird.

We fly in
quite by accident
and are lost
in frantic wing-flaps
and nervous taps
on the panes of our prisons.

We peer obliquely
beyond our trappings,
and try to seek paths
heretofore and again
to be.

Most of our time we spend
seeking escape,
unable to find passage,
finally stumbling
through the waiting open door.


John Lambremont, Sr. is a Pushcart Prize-nominated poet who lives in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He has a B.A. in English-Creative Writing and a J.D. from Louisiana State University. During the last year, John's work has been
published or accepted for future publication in Boston Literary Magazine, A Hudson View (2009 Pushcart nomination), Flutter Poetry Journal, Caper Literary Journal, Bear Creek Haiku, Breadcrumb Sins, The Fib Review, Lilliput Review,
and other print and on-line publications. His collected volume of retrospective poems, 'Whiskey, Whimsy, & Rhymes,'
is available on and Google Books. John enjoys modern jazz, writing country songs, and adult baseball.

This poem was based on a recent real-life observation, and is proof that poems are all around us, if we keep our eyes, minds, and souls open.




Copyright 2009