I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.
The convenience of the high trees!
The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth's face upward for my inspection.
My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot
Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I kill where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads -
The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:
The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.
Ted Hughes :
I sit on the top of the wood, eyes examining.
Concentration, not to miss the doughnut
Between those bulged hands and broken teeth:
Even in sleep rehearse perfect snatches and eat.
The convenience of the sinking garbage!
The air’s foul smell and the tainted meat
Are of favourite to me;
And now the half-eaten doughnut falls in my inspection.
My feet are ready to swoop down.
It took the whole of night
To rehearse my move, my each gesture.
Now i hold the doughnut in my feet
And fly up and revolve it all proudly.
I eat as I please because it is all mine.
Wait! Something’s bothering my body:
My manners are dropping on heads-
The allotment of chances.
For the one path of my dropping is direct
On to the bald heads of the living.
No rebukes avert my right.
The people are beneath me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My stomach has permitted no change.
I am going to keep dropping like this.
H. Maryam Fathima
II BA English
