“Your mouth makes a pointy beak.…
the shape… / left me feeling slightly lyrical.”
—Kate Kilalea, “You Were a Bird”
“Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize…”
—Ted Roethke, “I Knew a Woman”
We are more like birds than some of us may realize. Even in the simplest and most mundane of ways. For instance, have you noticed that when people kiss, their lips become “pursed,” slightly protruding into a “pointy beak”? I must admit that I had never given much thought to this until recently when rereading the above lines.
Neither Kilalea nor Roethke explicitly refer to kissing. However, the human mouths described in their poems, one regarding a dinner date and the other about lovemaking, conjure images for me of canoodling. Of course, poetry typically approaches its subjects indirectly, as Emily Dickinson reminds us, “tell it slant.” In poet Jane Hirshfield’s book Nine Gates: Entering the Mind of Poetry, she notes, “Not everything will be given—some part of a poem’s good weight will be found outside the poem, in us.” (1) With poetry, we frequently need to read between the lines.
Traditional Birds of Love
As to why poets have long included birds in love poems makes abundant sense. Few creatures of such beauty exemplify courtship and reproduction the way our feathered friends do. They fly thousands of miles to nesting grounds, an observation elegantly described in Pablo Neruda’s poem “Migration,” an ode to birds and “the erotic urgency of life” (2). The euphemism “the birds and the bees” is a common phrase related to this biological principle.
The way we use language today indicates that birds typically accompany conversations on love. Occasionally, before a “peck” on the mouth or cheek, one lover may affectionately giggle at the other’s “duck lips.” Sometimes one may jokingly call an affectionate couple of friends “lovebirds” or say they seem just “lovey-dovey,” expressions that tap into associations first culturally embedded thousands of years ago.
Avian imagery has a long history of widespread associations with sensual desire and romance. Several winged favorites once affiliated with the Greek and Roman goddesses of love, Aphrodite and Venus respectively, include the dove, sparrow, partridge, and goose (3). References to these birds, too, abound in Renaissance works playfully devoted to the goddess and her acolytes. In ancient China, the wild goose was also considered a bird of love (4), as it was, too, in eleventh-century India for the poet Bilhana:
I remember her:
deep eyes’ glittering pupils
dancing wildly in love’s vigil,
a wild goose
in our lotus bed of passion. (5)
The waterfowl here is a symbol of the speaker’s mistress in Balhana’s Caurapancasika, just one of many works throughout the world that uses avian metaphors to express the primal power of lust and the emotional significance of love.
“Like Amorous Birds of Prey”
Though many poets have relied on doves, sparrows, and geese—those traditional birds of love—Andrew Marvell proves in his “To His Coy Mistress” that less conventional ones can also provide for moving similes:
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball.
Passion’s illicit, consuming nature is expressed poignantly here by Marvell’s choice of raptors. Amazingly, this suggestively rousing poem was composed in the seventeenth century, during the same time that John Milton lived. An earlier love poem that features birds of prey—specifically eagles—is Geoffrey Chaucer’s much tamer, late fourteenth-century “The Parliament of Fowls.”
As noted in a previous post, Chaucer was the first to combine St. Valentine’s Day, romantic coupling, and birds all together into one poem, themes that have since collectively resurfaced in other works, notably Elizabeth Bishop’s “Three Valentines,” John Donne’s “An Epithalamion, or Wedding Song,” and Michael Drayton’s “To His Valentine.”
For those of you interested in the history and symbolism of birds in love poetry and works of fiction, I highly recommend Leonard Lutwack’s Birds in Literature. He devotes an entire chapter to “Birds and the Erotic.”(6) While he does not mention anything about duck-lipped smooches, he covers a wide range of Western writers, from Catullus to D. H. Lawrence.
- Hirshfield, J. Nine Gates: Entering the Mind of Poetry. HarperCollins Publishers, 1997. p. 115.
- Neruda, P. “Migración”. Schmitt, J. (translator). The Poetry of Pablo Neruda. Stavans, I, et al (editors and translators). pp. 743–749.
- Armstrong, EA. The New Naturalist: A Survey of British Natural History – The Folklore of Birds: An Enquiry into the Origin & Distribution of Some Magico-Religious Traditions. London: Collins, 1958. p. 47.
- Armstrong, EA. pp. 42, 47.
- Miller, B.S. Phantasies of a Love Thief: The Caurapancasika Attributed to Bilhana. New York: Columbia University Press, 1971. p. 19.
- Lutwack, L. Birds in Literature. Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida, 1994. pp. 187–230.