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    The Oracle Of Birds
    The Oracle Of Birds
    The Oracle Of Birds
    Ebook63 pages33 minutes

    The Oracle Of Birds

    By Donna Faulkner née Miller

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Welcome to "The Oracle of Birds: Short Stories for the Fireside," a collection of enchanting tales and poems by Donna Faulkner née Miller. In these stories, dreams, myths, and superstition come together to explore how everything is connected. Donna moves us on a journey through nature, landscapes, traditions, and cultures. Each short story and poem explores the importance of place and purpose.


    This collection invites you to discover her storytelling magic. From the poem "Saturation" to "The Devil's Kiss," each piece offers a unique adventure. These tales will transport you to worlds where dreams and myths unfold. Her words create more than just a collection—it's a friendly companion for fireside reflections, urging you to explore imagination and the mysteries of the human experience.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWritten Tales
    Release dateDec 13, 2023
    ISBN9798223454014
    The Oracle Of Birds
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      Book preview

      The Oracle Of Birds - Donna Faulkner née Miller

      INTRODUCTION

      Welcome to The Oracle of Birds: Short Stories for the Fireside, a collection of enchanting tales and poems by Donna Faulkner née Miller. In these stories, dreams, myths, and superstition come together to explore how everything is connected. Donna moves us on a journey through nature, landscapes, traditions, and cultures. Each short story and poem explores the importance of place and purpose.

      This collection invites you to discover her storytelling magic. From the poem Saturation to The Devil's Kiss, each piece offers a unique adventure. These tales will transport you to worlds where dreams and myths unfold. Her words create more than just a collection—it's a friendly companion for fireside reflections, urging you to explore imagination and the mysteries of the human experience.

      1

      SATURATION

      sky knocks on parched ground,

      let me in. You need my tears

      and I need to weep.

      2

      HERE IS THE POEM

      that unfurled

      an inkling

      from bayleaf

      slumber.

      Fractured

      dreams

      bridging

      the netherworld

      This comma,

      paused

      while I chewed

      on my pen.

      Nursed by sweet tea

      this entire stanza

      was

      an afterthought.

      I scribble

      in flux,

      plucking a stray hair

      from my writing.

      A surgeon's

      scalpel

      in an amateur's

      grip.

      Kicking rocks

      by the river,

      This is the poem

      that insisted.

      Wayfinder vines

      ruminating

      a conversation -

      overheard.

      Here is the poem

      to scaffold my wilding.

      Inevitable, the flourish

      of weeds.

      An immigrant

      from old scribblings.

      soliloquise is trying

      to assimilate here,

      I cannot tell you 

      where I end 

      and the poem begins. 

      All I can do is show you.

      3

      THE RAG DOLL RIDER

      I couldn’t have called for help. There had never been a phone booth on this particular street, but yet I’d vividly remembered one. Imagined I was standing beside a big red booth just as the accident had unfolded. My memory has been corrupted over the years. Infected by the emotion in that moment.

      Maybe I thought I should have done something useful, as children often do, but help had come regardless. Residents had heard the bang and came scrambling from their houses.

      Soon after that, we moved towns, later immigrating to New Zealand.

      Decades later, I returned to that exact spot. Pulled off the scab. Stood there on the pavement remembering that hot day in summer back when I was six.

      It was the summer holidays and we were sent out to ‘play’. I can hear the bike coming before I see it. Hear the loud roar as it accelerates. It flies over the crest of the hill, brakes burning. The parked car, mounted. The rider flung like a ragdoll. The rag doll lay still on the road.

      I smelled the burn of rubber. Stood frozen watching the cacophony unfold. A flurry of activity. Frantic people trying to do something. Save

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