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Bird Child Poems | Bird Poems About Child

These Bird Child poems are examples of Bird poems about Child. These are the best examples of Bird Child poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Child's Peace

Tell me of your peace. 
Let it tell your story now
Of trials and tribulations, a tale not of dreams
Weary from a journey of self-discovery
My child, know the comfort in your peace
You feel hope in this familiar place 
As it gently sloughs the pain away 
Tell me of your peace 
In which we all are blessed and free
Search throughout your soul sweet child
Peer not within your cluttered mind 
Look out to rest your tired eyes but do not let them see
Solace found strewn upon daily thoughts is fleeting at it's best
Lasting merely moments, in untouched souls a true peace 
Oh yes! You'll know when you arrive but only you will know 
The world will melt away as a candle left under the blazing sun
Away away, until you feel home again, an unguided familiar scene
An innocence once lost is restored, all sins suddenly forgiven
Soaking this in with relucant ease, 
Breathe it deep with a slow release
Take it in, delight in details you discover
Be calm here child, please have no fear, I am here 
You are safe in this place of yours, no hurt no tears
We share not the same peace, no no
Unique to each of us, yet stranger to none
Trust in more than what you see, know beauty is within reach
We share this unspoken bond of freedom from ourselves
Please young one, listen closer now 
I say, leave it all behind you love, it will only weigh you down
Cleanse yourself of careless words and careful lies 
I know you're weary, let go of all you carry
Don't be afraid, here you are burden free 
Trust in you, blessed one, it's easier than you believe
Sweet child, tell me now if you see
Peace resting deep within 
Waiting for you
For you to let it be


Details | Free verse | |

Black Bird On a Wire

Black Bird
Sitting on a wire
Why is your back turned towards me?
Do you wish to hide the intelligence of your eyes,
or do you wish to create some mystery?
I have seen you
Here at this old dump
Picking through the unwanted wanted things
I wish I could search along with you
Check out what the Jones's have no more use for
The bits of unfixed
The not new enough
Their "I think we deserve the very best"
"This ain't good enough, let's buy more and more stuff!"
At one time
I wore their discarded clothes
Wore them without pride
I should have been proud
For I dug for them with wanting hands
Hands that waded through decadence
Refillable 
Recyclable 
Usable
Black Bird
I watched you and your brothers
As you feasted on our last suppers
Ripping open black bags
Fighting for morsels 
Unconcerned with the rotting
Intoxicated by fermenting fruit
Pungent aromas
Bones that needed to be picked clean

Me noticing but not recalling until now
Back then
I was hoping 
Praying for a bicycle
Desperately wanting to ride far away from here
Escape  my then
My embarrassment
My, I hope no one sees me!
"Garbage picker!"
"Where did you get that coat?"
"We threw that in the dump!"
Boy oh boy do I like clothes now.
No one makes fun of what I wear!

Part of me wishes to return with you Black Bird
To see what I left behind
Reclaim
Recycle that little boy
But I can't
The dumps aren't open anymore
It is like those old bones
Bleached
Picked clean
Manicured
Items placed in appropriate piles
All the while
You sit on your wire
Back turned to me
Intelligent eyes hidden
Knowing I can't disturb you
In a while you will feed on yesterday
For this place 
Is not closed to you!


Details | Couplet | |

Eyes of a Child

Looking all around me and becoming more aware,
Of the people and surroundings at which many children stare.

I come to terms and realize the acts of hate I see,
And now I fear that this same scene will soon envelope me.

Walking on a lonesome road, though crowded it may seem,
I pass through silent hordes of people hushing silent screams.

Beside me standing hand-in-hand, older man and wife,
I wonder if they thought like me, what happened to their life.

I reminisce now further back before these broken days,
A time of wasting food and drink and dressing different ways.

But now we all look just alike in tattered grays and browns,
Drifting through these damaged streets and sporting matching frowns.

I thought we'd left the two world wars and poverty behind,
To linger in our broken books and fill an older time.

A time where death would cloud the world with sorrow and disease,
And fear would plant itself within the innocent with ease.

This made me think and look around for Noah and his arc,
And for the first time since the night I heard a flustered lark.

I quickly turned around to spot within a child's hands,
An injured bird whose time had brought it here from other lands.

The child stole a piece of thread from a redbreast robin's nest,
And wrapped around the ailing bird a splint so it could rest.

An hour past the lark took flight and answered to the wild;
The only resting place of hope is in the bright eyes of a child.


Details | Personification | |

'Little Sparrow'

Little sparrow, what troubles thee
      is it the stigma you face
little sparrow, what pierces thee
      is it the shame of disgrace

is it the bitterness in your heart, 
     or the offense you can't forgive
is it the anguish that sets you apart, 
     or the hurt that holds you captive 

what befalls you 
      is neither unfelt nor unknown
God cares and calls you
      when you're cast out and all alone 

God will never forsake you
     in your time of need;
God will never permit you
     to suffer or bleed.


02/19/2014; for "TO HEAL A HEART" Contest

 



Details | Rhyme | |

The Child Inside

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.
Some take a child for angels, some for birds.
How much is it worth with the child’s face?
I’ll tell you now and rest my  case!
Who can resist the charm she casts?
Who can foretell how long it lasts?
Who can reject the smile she gives?
Who doesn't like the life she lives?
Who can refuse to play with her?
Who can’t be kind? Who can’t be fair?
Who doesn't feel the words she says?
Who can translate or paraphrase?!
It takes a child to learn these facts!
It takes a man to grasp such acts. 
This tiny child inflames our pride.
This shining pearl remains inside.
And comes out like a rising tide .

1/9/2014


Details | Free verse | |

Return Of Your King

Reflections of imperfections have shown me a way that I can move mountains through my power of faith even though I can't see him I know he is real through the power of prayer and a Love that I feel It's growing inside me like a flower in bloom shall I reveal my powers or is it too soon I am reading the signs through my darkness I find a reason for belief in the light of mankind that I know shall overcome the greatest of odds the Love I seek amazes me especially through the flaws because now I am inspired through the hero's that bring my throne through the darkness on which I return on as your King.


Details | Rhyme | |

Child of the Universe

A child of the Universe

As a child of universe
I’m part of everything
I am the tree’s, the flowers too
The birds that gently sing
The rivers, forests, moon, and sun
The oceans vast, and wide
I am this Universe, I am
 I am life so deified

Everything is part of me
And part of it, am I
I am you, and you are me
And I can never die
For when this shell does dissipate
The circles, they go on
The stories come, the stories go
Yet nothings really gone
 
I’m a child of the Universe
In fact I am the whole
This being who does think he’s me
He appears to play this role
Then sinks into the Universe
To have himself a rest
Then comes another story
Of fear or happiness

20 December 2014


Details | Light Poetry | |

Do you like Pigeons Dad

‘Do you like Pigeons Dad’

“Oh No”

‘But Why?’

“They’re scummy things
They’re Rats with wings
They’re vermin of the sky”

‘That can’t be right Dad’

“It is”

‘How So?’

“They pilfer seed
They breed at speed
And harbour disease you know”

‘Are you sure dad’

“Oh Yes”

‘Since when?’

“Since the Rock Pigeon flew
And ended up in a stew
Since their domestication by men”

‘But I like Pigeons Dad’

“I know
You do”

‘I like how they sing
I like the shape of their wing
So you should like them too’

“But I don’t like Pigeons Son.
Not now.
Not ever.
Their walk is bizarre,
They crap on my car
And they’re really not that clever”

'But Daaaad…

...they wake me in the morning,
With their delightful coo,
Their plumage is wonderful - an iridescent blue.
They look good in the garden Dad
They don’t make such a mess
Do you like Pigeons Dad?’

…“Yes”



[This poem was the result of being asked this question many, many, many times by my son. My son is on the autistic spectrum - he has Asperger's Syndrome to give the official diagnosis. He is a lovely human being & I love him dearly. But one of his most irritating traits, is the fact that he asks the same questions continuously all day every day. No matter how you respond, the same question will be posed minutes later. Currently and for at least the last 2 to 3 years: 'Do you like pigeons daddy?' is his favourite/most frequently asked question. Now that you know that, perhaps you can really feel the exasperation in that final ..."Yes"]


Details | Free verse | |

Chinese New Year

Red envelope
Bursting with luck
Dragons dancing in the street


Details | Rhyme | |

The Open Road

On an open road through the driving rain
She drove fast and deadly like a hurricane
Sad yellow stripes in between white lines
Covered cold dead flowers and some valentines

Her baby grows and her mother cries
A painful evelution right before their eyes
She left him bleeding as the future glowed
From a dying past down the open road

She fights the lions as she curse it all
The men the drugs and the alcohol
The radio dj makes it all look good
With songs about love and of motherhood

She saw her future going down the drain
Her baby's tears feeds her growing pain
A blade in the night and the bad blood flowed
Down in the gutter on the open road

A big black bird at the top of the shelves
Judging what they all did to themselves
With fingernails growing like a raven's claw
She will never see what the big bird saw

Like the drugs of the dying like a martyr's faith
There was light in the dark but no open gate
She hunted the keys to the secret code
As she watched him fade on the open road


Details | Rhyme | |

The Swan

The peaceful, humble beauty 
of a white lily drifting on reflective night
hums a sweet melody 
of contrasting light.

Trusting the darkness 
to be his throne
and the moon of loneliness
to crown his soft, unheard moan.

I watch from bushes of scorn
that mock him cruelly.
His fragile crest is pierced by the thorn
of rejection and bleeds its sorrows silently.

The rejected jewels of nature are mourning
for the king of the skies to raise his wings
but he can't see beyond remembering
and can't see past the thorn's stings.

Oh, scarred heart of grace,
spread strenght and flee with wild freedom
unto priceless solace 
away from this desolate kingdom.

Oh, jewel in creation's crown,
look not to stirred reflection
for it is mere perversion, a frown,
of the white rose of perfection.

Go now, leave behind only
a legacy of despised beauty.


Details | Free verse | |

The Sea Rolls With The Breeze

Seagulls seagulls by the seashore open your eyes and you shall see more of the world's magik in front of your face why oh why would I ever replace the memory of that foamy sea crashing onto the shore while the seagulls are laughing with the children once more who feed them with eyes full of wonder to their curious delight seashells from dead oysters shine of the moon's pale sea light as they mate like the birds and the bees my sea kisses the sky when it rolls with the breeze.


Details | Free verse | |

Bear

Big blundering beast
Poor fish have no chance whatsoever
Neither does the slowest runner in your group


Details | Prose Poetry | |

An early song-2

I once joined the procession of colors and lost my heart
Till a wave colors distilled through night knocked me down dead.
Besides the mountain,  the midnight festival of colors is on.
Lying in my arms you imagine your blood is burning in my veins
 I am only listening to the chariot of the queen joining the revelry.

I knew you were being vain when you came to see me
I did know when your heart missed a beat. For the air was my friend.
And the tiny bird building its nest in the rafters of my roof
Did  not bring a straw as long as you talked. 

You never said bye.  For you wanted me to do that. But I had no time 
And kept riding on the wave. The storm is not away. What if I fall.
 Tomorrow I will be lying in these shores caressed to sleep by a smiling sun.

 I don’t have the time to forget you in the endless expanse of this blank night. 
Last night’s sun was but a spot hewn out of the tragedy of the heavens.
A tragedy that  survived the ages to live in my heart in fire and smoke.

You keep away while I create my pieces in these desert sands. When I proceed
 To give them the finishing touches, you shriek in despair. For you think
 I am going to spoil the lovely piece of some great master with my clumsy hands.
                                           -2-
Tomorrow is the illegal child of today abandoned in the dark.
I end up at night  and my child is born at night, having passed 
Through  the summer that seared my skin and heart.
The cup of sorrow is never full, so there is no overflowing.
Yesterday we witnessed the winter night breathing its last.
Winter was in lament for the little bird that went up but never returned.

I bear no gifts for you. I know not your names. I know not who you are
But I recognize you without mistake against this backdrop of misery.
I come here with my empty bag to gather the drops of your sobs
And consign them to the flame in my mind leaving your smiles behind.





For: Catie Lindsey's Free Verse contest



Details | Rhyme | |

Changing Places

Through a school window,
I watched a bird fly.
It landed on the window sill,
and we stared, eye to eye.

I thought, Oh little bird,
change places with me.
You study geography
and I will fly free.


Details | Rhyme | |

Yippee

Yippee

Yippee, yippee
So wonderful I feel
I’m dancing, always dancing
My life is such a thrill
The flowers outside are blooming
The birds, they sing for me
The sun is shining brilliantly
So I just say ‘Yippee!’

I’m old yet I’m so happy
I have no gripes at all
My life is flowing like a dream
It’s all so beautiful
I feel just like a child
Having fun and feeling free
The power is deep within me
So beautiful life be

Yippee, yippee
I suppose one day I’ll die
But I’m going to keep on dancing
I’ve not got time to cry
I live for all this beauty
I Love this ecstasy
I know my days are getting long
But I just say ‘yippee!’

28 April 2015



Details | Free verse | |

Even More of the Flightless

3 
Pay attention! 
Important chicken poetry coming up, 
though no binary fantasies shall deconstruct 
into raucous biddy enjambment. 


4 
Grandfatber always kicked Grandmother's chickens away 
while he sat whittling under the Oak, 
Those ruddy, Cherokee cheeks sweating even in the shade 
as sweltering Carolina summers and bifocaled 
old women melted him away in his seventies; 
(Nothing heard by telephone, 
cackling when he put the speaker to his mouth 
or laid down to rest from the planting or harvesting, 
On the flowered sofa 
fussing with him to take off this boots, 
putting The Liberty News under his feet); 

But watching was Grandma's joy, 
Haystack Calhoun and the Nature Boy, 
wrestling on Saturday night 
on the Philco black and white, 
jumping up and jumping down 
fists flying with each takedown; 

Her fussing when he kicked her chickens-- 
He was a man of the Land not of the Leghorn; 
Course he still cut off their heads for 
Sunday dinners 
with a whistle of his axe, 
quick and clean; 
So much better than Grandmother's 
Flung blood and feathers, 
The live body's flight 
After wringing its neck. 

(You really 
Must take chickens seriously.) 


5 
Jesus, 
my brother and I hated that rooster! 
Mean! 
I'll give you Mean! 
Why that Leghorn from hell, 
with the perfidious, featherless rear, 
That wily old bastard, 
laid for us kids from under the porch 
flying at us spurs first 
when we snuck out to play. 
You had to admire his fierce 
Protecting his brood 
or just plain crazed for children's blood 
maybe. 
Therefore, I must insist 
That you take chickens seriously. 


6 
The greatest chicken lit will not be televised, 
but written by neurotic poultry 
flirting with free verse 
or thrown helplessly into concrete idioms, 
wallowing in dirt-poor sentience; 
Dissertations 
on the identity crises of Rhode Island Reds 
and the propensity of White Leghorns 
to transfer insecurities of undifferentiated 
consciousness 
as violence enacted on certain small children 
will be written but will probably not help chicken poetry endure. 


7 
Yet, 
I pledge allegiance to the celebration of chicken poetry, 
And the underappreciated poultry for which it stands, 
One species, flightless but enduring, 
With free range and corn for all. 


Details | Rhyme | |

'The Unborn Child's Query'

Shuffled along a painted line,
marking dates of measured time
A wary way off the path,
where wayward footsteps dared to pass
Beneath her burdens buried pain
The weary women's wounds would wane

An echo of a stint gone by
Red-tailed hawks circle long and wide
Soul-mates screech; soar above
Sets of screams of scolding love

In fine feather for firsts flights fling
Around the vacant nest, fledglings cling
Fostered till autumn's turn
Breasts ablaze; brown bands burn
On departing wings, black stripes earned

Metallic scratching, bird-feet rasping
The feeble chirping fades...
Matrons marveled, hearken near
A speckled sparrow's hackle reared

"I flew straight again
It was the idea of you
We found you in a drainpipe 
darling!"


Details | Free verse | |

Dreaming Child of a king

I am just the dreaming child of a king who resides in the heavenly skies above. The only thing that I have ever wanted to do was help people who were in need by building hospitals, bringing food, clean water, and promoting the recovery of lost dreams.
The only thing that I the dreaming child of a king desire to do is bring a smile to a downtrodden face, mend a weary heart, and remove the scars and cuts from someone's beaten and contrite heart before I depart from this earth now that to me is my true life's worth.
I the dreaming child of a king paints a picture with words to show that my heart is a heart of love, I also paint a picture to show those who have never met the dreaming child's soul that it is a soul that aches to help the dreams that were once lost be achieved again.
Destined to destroy dreams that was not what I was put on this earth for I was created to help those lost like me find their way back to Heaven's door. I was not created to shed other's blood, scar their hearts, or make them weak I was made in his image so me being the dreaming child of a king he is the only thing that my dreams and I truly seek.
I lie awake with the paint brush of my dreams in my hands using many colors and painting many dreams from different lands whether rich or poor the only thing that my dreams and I desire is to be like a free bird and finally soar. Being the dreaming child of a king haunted by his sins, forever trying not to fall into the pit, the only thing that this dreamer desires is to one day hear the words well done and as a result my sins will no longer cause me to run.


Details | Elegy | |

CHILD TEARS TO A BIRD FRIEND

Child,
Bird, bird, when would mother come back?
The pumpkin leaves is dying and our
Compound is filled by spilled blood.
Would mother ever come back again friend?
Would there be more blood in the compound?
Father has fallen, Nkechi is gone and 
The future of those living is blank.
The shrine has be dismentled and the
Walls of the compound has fallen apart
And I am all alone, alone in tears.



Bird.
Child, child, mother won't be coming back.
She had gone with the breast milk and smiles.
Leave the pumpkin leaves for her own trouble
Having what matters at the time it matters is
The best child, hold those tears for your beloved country
Until the end of time in death before dishonour.


Details | Verse | |

Lullaby

From the attic window I am watched by moles
Who wish for my demise
Along with that which lurks, shaded by these trees
Ready to take me if I may wander

Time trudged without escape until I saw the brilliance
Of your flight, gliding to meet me
With your lullaby tones, you are my secret
And if you are to keep a watch, I may learn
To suffer their twisted blows