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Dark Bird Poems | Bird Poems About Dark

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

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Details | Rhyme |

Wearying for you too

An answer to Frank L Stantons  'Wearyin' for you' as Robert Lindley requested.

Wearying for you too

I’m wearying for you as well
Each day is like some kind of Hell
I’m missing you with all my heart
I cannot stand us being apart
I want to be there, home with you
It seems like crying’s all I do

My love, I also feel this way
It gets worse from day to day
People pass me, and they look
They see I’m looing so forsook
They just don’t know how I love you
It seems like crying’s all I do.

I miss that chair, I really do
Sitting there, just me and you
With fire alight, heating the room
And you and I we seem to bloom
Oh Darling I’m so lonesome too
It seems like crying’s all I do

I take a walk in the city streets
I say hello to folk I meet
But there’s no life within my voice
I’m miserable I have no choice
Because my love, I’m missing you
It seems like crying’s all I do.

I go back home in the dark of night
And still I’m feeling far from bright
I go to bed, and try to sleep
As lonely night, it hears me weep
I lie awake the whole night through
It seems like crying’s all I do

The long night over, the dawn is here
It’s still the same, I miss you Dear
The birds they give no joy at all
This loneliness oh, it’s so cruel
I feel so down, I’m missing you
It seems that crying’s all I do.

I’m coming home, can’t take no more
My bags all packed, I’m out the door
I need to see your smile again
This loneliness drives me insane
I don’t want this I just need you
It seems that crying’s all I do

28 July 2014 @ 1230hrs.





Details | Pantoum |

WHEN I WAS YOUNG

When I was young and life was easy
I never thought but of the next day.
For the young, things can be so breezy
It is the child's way.

I never thought but of the next day
Until that day came upon me.
It is the child's way
And I did not want to see.

Until that day came upon me
I was carefree like the bird on high.
And I did not want to see
The dark adult horizons that would make me cry.

I was carefree like the bird on high
Only to be trapped by love
The dark adult horizons that would make me cry
Crushing me down from above.

Only to be trapped by love
For the young, things can be so breezy
Crushing me down from above
When I was young and life was easy.


Dan Cwiak ... written for:
Paula Swanson's Pantoum contest


Details | Ballade |

Feelings at dusk

Feelings at dusk

I don’t feel sad, I don’t feel glad
It’s a funny kind of thing
A kind of mellow, easy feel
 Where heart does softly sing
A melody of life’s sweet bliss
As dusk, with sleepy eyes
Seeps in so very stealthily
Looking old, but wise

I sit, and sink into this dusk
As silence comes, so still!
And Sun grows weaker all the time
So low he grows on will
He goes to where he always goes
Each day when night time comes
And tells him with the song of birds
As they signal ‘day is done!’

I sit here very silently
As pen, it scrapes white sheet
And life seems filled with mystery
As sun fades in defeat
Then misty moon takes over sky
So full, and huge and bold
Another day has turned to dusk
Such a wonder to behold!


Details | Quatrain |

Cawing Crow

In the night movement there’s a wary crow Straight up into the blue moon it flies high Cocking its flight to avoid its cold rays Each night in the moon brings a large crow’s sigh Elbows of their feet bend throughout the air As the bird sings, a gorgeous sound to me I can sense its flight near me, overhead He’s flapping near to me, but I can’t see Only if the moon is shining greatly Can I see, tonight it comes in and out But sure when it comes out of the darkness The moon only brings shades that are about Circling there above me cawing with joy Listening do I hear his great power Appearing now within the little light Dips down on me as I stand and cower Conquering my fear I reach for him near I hope that he comes onto my dark arm He does just that, I look deep in his eyes He swallows my heartbeats without alarm Now I move to the nearest tree and caw Allowing him to fly to high branches Power envelopes me, I seem to float I must leave him to the highest reaches Russell Sivey


Details | Haiku |

Haiku Calendar

Haiku Calendar 
(January to December in the Southern part of the U.S.A.)

snow and more snow falls 
cold wind and more cold wind blows 
all branches are bare 

starving and weak birds 
a chill grips before sunrise 
fall from bare branches 

warm afternoon wind 
thin morning ice melts on pond 
a song bird is heard 

poppies hide in grass 
drink from early morning showers 
bees drink from open buds 

warm ruffles new weeds 
clover covers budding ground 
crickets find their song 

hawk hunts small rabbit 
green hedges give good cover 
blood drips on clover 

sun waves off dark soil 
flowers grow only in shade 
bees hive drips sweet wax 

in shade cow chews cud 
waits for dark to find water 
sleeps on top of mound 

east winds pull cool rain 
quinces bright hill flowers thirst 
streams roar then fall quite 

squirrel hides acorn 
digs hole at foot of oak tree 
barks at gray wet sky 

leaf fall from elm tree 
vacant bird nest are exposed 
geese sound over head 

deer move over trail 
fawns loose baby spots and jump 
graze on holly leafs  


Details | Sonnet |

Feeding the Birds

My morning retirement ritual,
Provides breakfast to the birds on my street. 
Food for fowl, silencing bellies that growl,
Watching the many hundreds gather near,
Huddled together on branches they meet,
With a calm patience we’ve learned to revere.

Feeding the birds of every pedigree,
Flying things, all sizes, colors, and shapes.
Hungry beaks, vibrant feathers, sharp clawed feet,
Small Finches and Wrens, large Sparrows come round.
Harmoniously singing us awake,
Their only care: yummy seeds on the ground.

My morning retirement ritual,
Feeding the birds of every pedigree.


1)  Sonnet written in Anapestic Pentameter


Details | Narrative |

Darkest Day

In loving memory of Silly

The ominous clouds brew, icy darkness looms,
Evil cackle flashes sparks of its menacing fangs,
Sinking them deep into my soft yellow downy,
Yanking me apart, leaving me naked and lonely.

I shiver, tremble and chatter.
Mama, mama, where have you been?
I look at my nest up in the tree,
Mama, mama, why did you leave me?

Gnarled tree branches snatched away my home,
Clawing, ripping and towering tall over me,
The fall - blurred vision of trees, terror painfully gnaws,
Now, only, cold and numbness as I cannot feel my claws.

I inch forward slowly to find a worm.
Mama would have picked some for me.
But now, I scarce can see no hope,
The bittersweet taste of the worm makes me choke.

Suddenly, I find I am nestled in a little girl's hands.
The slightest tinge of warmth delights me,
Gently, she ruffles through my scarce feathers,
Puffing up, I brace the changing weather.

The pungent smell of the rain stings my nostrils,
I chirp helplessly in disgust,
Tears from the sky pelt on me, lashing out angrily,
I retreat, sink back in, and cry along silently.

Her home smells of fresh toast,
Mine smells of juicy worms, but I settle in anyway.
The fall has crushed my feet in its cruel hands,
My feet are broken, I cannot stand.

For the next few hours, I wallow in misery.
She knows nothing about my agonising pain,
But fits me into a sock to keep me warm,
As I listen to the sighing trees mourn.

The sock begins to feel cold and icy,
I try to swallow the slimy papaya she mushed,
But in my throat, the concoction swells and becomes thicker,
Burning sensation, daylight flickers.

I shiver, tremble and chatter.
Mama, mama, where have you been?
The rain distorts my view of my tree, 
Mama, mama, why did you leave me?

Mama......
You guaranteed my freedom one day
You never said the price I had to pay
To never see another sun ray

Mama......
If my life were a thread, it would now have frayed
What little daylight I saw had become grey
And as I cuddled up and started to pray

Mama......
I became an angel today.


Details | Epic |

The Stork I


The ship arrived surrounded by fog's dew,
his years she carried on her seaward tracks,
the wide upfront, horizon's line was dark,
- a stork he was, comradely to her crew.

(Thus, curious, he stood upon the moors,
projecting epitome of their rejoice,
and stern, the sea-waves' hum, repressed their voice,
enduring memory the dusk allures.)

A trenchant stork, with harbors in cahoot,
side-gazing for the sunken to discern,
Perceived the sea-men deftness and concern,
applied the color of night's darkened soot.

The dusk abraded then, the ship's details,
still numbness; maybe was the ship that stared,
as his persistent - curious eyes paired
with mind's perseverance, head-rope and brails.

Around the ship quizzical boats tripped,
like wooden cradles-coffins, they were stray,
companions lost beyond skylines' array,
sea's signalizing roar, on moorings whipped.

( Their sacrosanct ascent designed the stairs,
for spotless angels to walk amidst light blue,
like then the stork recited what was true,
- a dark night ship, for his bird's story cares.

And then they fled to skies - two comets' glows
that cut through distances, in ardent Spring
a song for wanderers, harmonic link,
- the emerald of Aegean shallows. )

What foolishness of storks, invites the ship,
stray souls to marry in night's ebon phase,
two finger-funnels tall, on skies to praise,
wraiths' upstage flight, on everlasting trip?

© G.V. 09/25/2012 All Rights Reserved
(Iambic Pentameter)


Details | Heroic Couplets |

Twice Born

A gentile man of vivid dreams oft app to walk at night
Followed where his feet would lead under the pale moon light
When chance he did into a grove of oak and alder trees
He spied a pool of nature's own fed by an ancient spring
There upon he cast his gaze beneath the moon so bright
And saw him something oddly fey revealed with second sight

At once belief that made him he who walked where others went
Faded in the mist of myth and planted there instead
A vision of a greater truth not seen, and yet perceived
From deep within the pool of being, liberation to receive
Reflections at the water's edge revealed his truest form
A life he's yet to realize, or a life he's lived before

For there upon this moon lit night, deep in that ancient wood
Where once there was an aging man an ageless raven stood
Twice born of myst, beneath the sky no longer bound by fear
He saw him casting off his flesh then soared into the air
He set his course by moon lit ways, a shadow taking flight
Till found he day light's brilliant rays that freed him from the night." 

                                                                   ~Christopher Thor Britt

The Everything Halloween Poetry Contest


Details | Free verse |

The Humans and I

Ones who wage,
Ones who rage,
Ones who take,
Ones who pay,
Ones who craze,
Ones who rave,
Ones who crave…

Ones who fear,
Ones who breathe,
Ones who give,
Ones who need,
Ones who will,
Ones who weave…

Ones who plead,
Ones who beg,
Ones who beseech,
Ones who entreat,
Ones who appeal,
Ones who volunteer,
Ones who disappear…

The ones who follow,
The ones that don’t know about tomorrow,
The ones who don’t deserve the morrow…

The ones who sleep,
The ones who cry,
The ones who live,
The ones who die…

The ones who proclaim,
Those who say they create,
The ones who ache,
The ones who don’t wait,
The ones who hesitate,
The ones who don’t concentrate,
The ones who fornicate,
The ones who procrastinate…

Those who fall in temptation,
Those who get in frustration,
Those who sometimes feel desperation,
Those who keep going without caution,
Those in motion,
Those in tension,
Those losing notion,
Those being poisoned,
Those getting in distortion,
Those following the broken diction,
Those dying like the billions,
Those without unction,
Those washed in the oceans…

I might seem cold,
But it is you who is bold.
I might not express,
But it is you who doesn’t let me progress.
I might not seem like I seek,
But it is you who doesn’t know me…
I might seem like I need,
But it is you who might always be begging on your knees.
I might seem dull,
But it is the one that is fool.
I might not be alight,
But it is you who isn’t truly alive…

I will remain neutral,
I will remain silver,
I will remain gray,
I feel darkness,
I feel light,
I will remain hallowed…,
After all, it is you who deserves no life…

I am a metal hawk,
I am a mountain goat,
I am a silver bird,
I am a gray wolf,
I am a white tiger,
I am a mystic rose…,
I am I…

I’m alive,
And I survive,
You are here,
However, it is you who deserves no life…

Being human does not imply that you have humanity…


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