those wooden bird-mobile things

a wooden bird mobile thing.

agrote, although I have no idea what a wooden bird mobile thing is, I must say that the expression might best be described as a "wooden bird, with broken wings."

There is a flaw in the avian world,
And that is the inability of man to express in bird-like ways,
The wings that make us soar.

This must be one of the things that plagues you, in being able to express in words, what your mind is thinking.

Don't let the mind drag you ahead of your thoughts, agrote.

Goodnight,
From Florida

I'm sorry, but you've totally confused me. I'd like to take your advice - but I'm not entirely sure what it is

A wooden bird-mobile thing is one of those wooden birds you get hanging from the ceiling in children's bedrooms, with a bit of ribbon that you can pull to make it flap. Come to think of it, the only place I've seen one is in my own house, so maybe they're not all that common.

Good morning, agrote. You put this in the original writing category, so it should either be a piece of descriptive prose or a poem, right? What you have done with this subject is analyze it in a scientific way. If you want to reshape it so that is more creative, choose your words so that they conjure up a clear picture in the reader's mind.

Example:

Those wooden bird mobile things,
Like true birds do not flap their wings..

That would be the start of a poetic version of your wooden bird mobile.

Or, should you wish to put it in descriptive prose, begin with something like:

There is a wooden bird mobile that hangs over the little one's crib, attached by a scarlet ribbon.

Then go on to explain how inaccurate the carving is, but what delight it gives, etc.

Is that clearer? I make these suggestions because of your thread on the quote, and your frustration with putting your thoughts into words.

So you're saying I should decorate the piece with poetic cliches and that will somehow make it more "creative"? I should conjure up some "little one" who never existed in the first place, lie about the colour of the ribbon, and pretend that this stupid wooden piece of crap hanging from the ceiling somehow makes me feel "delight"?

I'm sorry, I know I should be open to criticism, that's why I actually posted the thing on here - to be criticised. But I really don't fancy pretending to be a writer saying something deeply profound, which is what you seem to be suggesting that I do.

By the way it is supposed to be in verse rather than prose.

Very well, then, agrote. Do your thang.