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Bird Death Poems | Bird Poems About Death

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

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Details | Rhyme | |

Dead tree

Dead tree.

She stands there like she has for years
The life in her all gone
Once she wore a coat of green
And she'd be filled with song
As feathered friends of every kind
Would rest among her leaves
And as in life the same in death
Our tree will never grieve.

So all alone, she looks, this tree
All etched against black clouds
Although the life in her be gone
She stands there looking proud
And all her majesty is seen
By those with eyes to see
I take her picture once again
Try to catch her mystery

21 September 2013 @1920hrs.


Details | Free verse | |

The Speed of Flight

A small thunder of beating wings fell
Into it, I threw my hopes and prayers
should his light fail and end succeed,
the thunder would roll on

The fury of his need steals his days, and 
I cannot breathe for lack of understanding 
why the good die young, why
the good does not last 

Chaser of fear after a pint of exhilaration
drowns my joy in knowing
the horizon rises against him, and
I cannot change his course

- A. H. Sewell ©2015
https://www.facebook.com/HelanaSewell1


Details | Verse | |

Two birds


Two birds

We heard the owls' becrowing words,
foreboding of our steadfast grief,
they fled to dusk - two mourning birds
life's borderlines and false beliefs.

Two owls have passed, in gray and black,
straight arrows fled to vanish yon
our longest trip on railway tracks,
bemocking company and gone.

Upon our train have sat the birds,
the passengers won't go to stars;
poetic emptiness of words
that rhymes with unforgiven mars.

Unspoken are we, in the cars,
suspended is the pilot's gaze,
the rails become two iron bars
and death's advancing mauve bouquets.

The heads move with the engine's chug
like dancing poppies in the breeze,
and none among us will debug
why are we Charon's invitees.

The souls imprisoned trail along
the thrumming engine's wordless
rites and wait through nothingness and
wrongs their trip to reach uncounted heights.

© 01-19-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All rights reserved
(Iambic tetrameter) 

Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Contest Name: Night Owl
Deadline: 8/27/2014



Details | Quatrain | |

The Raven




Through the open window
An unintended entry way
Pale the moonlight streaming
Careless, now the price to pay

It perched upon my bedpost
All reality to confound
A tilted head, a beady eye
As yet he made no sound

My secret now revealed
He knew my every thought
My visitor in a feathered cape
Harbinger of death he brought

At last a guttural  caw I heard
And in terror begged" no more",
"Leave me be to my just fate
for yes, I killed the fair Lenore"….


With apology to Mr... Poe



Details | Sonnet | |

A Life Sentence

Dear freedom, your sweet innocent voice seems
Now like a distant echo, lost in the wind.
Hopes lost in a set of broken dreams,
With heavy chains, to your heart of stone pinned.

Day by day, night by night, without an end in sight,
Tortured by the ravaging beak of time, flying
With wings of solit'de, displaying its might, 
And hatred-filled eyes, watching me dying. 

These chains around my heart like a vicious snake
Poisoning my soul with darkness and despair. 
A dreadful nightmare from which I will wake
And look into destiny's most wicked glare. 

I stand under shadows cast by heaven's light,
And into sleep I fade, witho't a fight.


Details | Sestina | |

The Maid, the Magpie and the Mirror

Gazing, at its own reflection is the Magpie.
A magic bird, a mystical creature, with a soul
and the power to see things, the power of scrying.
It sees a tomb in ancient Egypt. It sees death.
A soul locked within a glorious bronze mirror,
Cleopatra and her Maid in a bond unbroken.

Time passes in silence as deep as the unbroken
promise of endless wisdom, gifted by the Magpie.
whose caws the Maid hears, within the depths of the mirror,
calls to the Queen, her Cleopatra, to her soul.
Magpie speaks to She on the Eastern Barge in the afterlife of death,
and to her Maid entombed. The sacred bird so near scrys.

The Magpie sits within oasis staring into the pool. It scrys
for all this time, its vigil, its protection, never broken.
Even when the sarcophagus is carried to the necropolis of the dead,
without, unknown, the bird speaks wisely through reflection, her Magpie.
Entombed, his Queen and her Maid, their bodies but not their souls,
Queen, Maid and Magpie, each cast a last gaze, alive within the mirror.

The Vows of Innocence, the Maid bespeaks the mirror.
Pleas to the Swallower of Shades, both Queen and Maid have scried
to The Burning One, and claim no lie, upon their soul.
As the light dims within the Maids eyes, in tomb unbroken,
she sees the life of her Queen and their Magpie
pass fast upon the brass, last breath of life and dying.

Oh, too soon the end, moans the Maid, I am dying.
Her life's reflection moves bronzed upon the mirror.
She screams, "My Queen," but hears only the caw of Magpie.
All around her other servants succumb and cry, whilst she sits scrying,
and the Magpie flies above in life entombed, eternity, unbroken.
As she beseeches all the Gods to save her soul.

The Magpie's spirit self moves within the mirror's soul.
He swoops gathering Cleopatra's essence, past the dying,
and brings her to the Maids side unbroken.
In afterlife upon the Eastern Barge they join the mirrored
whole, for he, the bird of magic, Magpie, has called and scried
it so. Part light of life, part dark of death, the Magpie.

The essence of each entwine united within this eternal mirror
for the Magpie cannot bear their deaths. He will protect and forever scry
in life the mirror sits unbroken a stolen bauble, and in it they dwell with the Magpie.





Details | Sapphic stanza | |

Owls at Night - Sapphic Stanza


Owls

Night-birds fly in wellaway Moonlit darkness
constant friends of sacrosanct ancient marbles
croaking nature's auguries, spirit's quests are
intellect's symbols.

Ergo mourning canticles pray to Pallas 
sending eldritch clarions' warning message
shadow hermits skillful and nimble hunters
glorify wisdom.

© G.V., 09-03-2013


Details | Villanelle | |

Deadly Raven

Sitting atop the old decaying tree Is a deadly raven quite pathetic Where his lusting eyes do more than just see An unsuspecting group thinks they are free Raven thinks of a move that’s genetic Sitting atop the old decaying tree No-one knows what it’s like to truly be One of this group, death is just magnetic Where his lusting eyes do more than just see Down he swoops taking one soul completely Returns to tree, looking quite poetic Sitting atop the old decaying tree The raven smiles as he caws wickedly Soul collecting might be more aesthetic Where his lusting eyes do more than just see The raven flies high looking lustfully All that he’s collected that’s prophetic Sitting atop the old decaying tree Where his lusting eyes do more than just see
Russell Sivey


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…


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 | Haiku | |

Haiku 5 - mournful cries, way of nature, flight into eternity

mournful cries fill the air
mother bird calling for its baby
eaten by the cat

mantis catches butterfly
I am sad: yet, that is 
the way of nature

loud feathered thud
- flight into eternity
deceptive glass pane


Details | Free verse | |

The Grief of Crows

Soaring above the bushfire's flames,
astounded crows, blacker than charred
tree trunks, flap spectral wings.

Numb with loss, no caws drone out.
Wind rushes in updrafts from
the smoky heat: to rise as a vengeful spirit,
to hammer at fleeing pinions,
to witness aimless circles above coal black trees,
now absent of rough stick nests.


Suzanne Delaney


Details | Verse | |

'Death Of A Bird'

A pretty bird Sang upon a fence Until a cat jumped to pull a wing down Sad little bird lay on the ground within sharp claws Trembling Struggling With no real hope Her feeble attempts doomed No more will I hear her sweet song on the fence Sadness Finished The cat moves on Close by a nest of babies wait Pretty bird looks one final time at the sky One last chirp Verse November 28, 2012


Details | Limerick | |

Not the material guy

Not the material guy

I’m not the material guy
Ambitions were never for I
I’m always the one
That gets noting done
I’m a dreamer, I cannot deny.

My mind it is not very clever
My heart is as light as a feather
My manner is free
Like a bird in a tree
And I never will worry, not ever

Just like a river I’ll flow
And always my heart it will glow
I won’t push the river
So life does deliver
A feeling that each day does grow

Until the day that I die
I won’t let a day pass me by
Without looking at me
At within, what I be
As always I’ll ask ‘Who am I?’

18 September 2013 @1800hrs.






Details | Ballad | |

Goats

Goats

They’re everywhere
These pretty little creatures
On the serpent road to Exmouth
They be some of the features
Along with Emus, Kangaroos
And handsome birds of prey
These little goats be bountiful
They’re all along the way.

They be domestic goats 
Who’ve gone back to the wilds
Where they have bred one million fold.
As one moves along the miles
These little goats be seen so much
In their many shades and hues
Don’t know where they got their water
It be tough country too.

The weather here be hot and dry
As the sun bakes everything
And mostly here no rain does fall
To drinking water bring.
And yet these goats look healthy as
Such nimble little beasts
You’d see some dead there in the road
As the crows do have their feast.

That be the price of progress
That poor beasts have to die
That be the curse of human beings
Sometimes it makes me cry
Yet still they be so plentiful
These handsome little guys
Another little part of nature
That make love in me rise.


Details | Lyric | |

The Apple PASTURE

DONE



                             The Apple PASTURE

Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.



                                               Jay


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

The Silent Lamb

The silent bell rings in the night,
Calling the devils to kneel to the light,
What once was, becomes no more,
As the light breaks through the open door.

What you think and what you feel,
What you saw and thought was real,
Is now only dust on the road,
The desolate remains of your ancient abode.

The new light is rising on the hill,
The new song is singing down in the well,
The new souls are dreaming of your face,
The new hearts are beating at you pace.

The old ideas and reasons you gave,
Are buried in the tomb and in the grave,
The rotting bone and flesh are gone,
In the morning dew, in the morning sun.

The light shines through the open door,
Casts no shadow on the old dirty floor,
The ancient laws of reason and might,
Crumble to dust in the morning light.

What once was real and certain as rock,
Is now the dream the baby forgot,
The new light coming to wake you my love,
The silent lamb and the flying dove.

more of my poems at :
http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Haiku | |

Haiku 5


In its final soar 
Finds the limb it learned to fly 
Lands, to fly no more 


Gene Bourne
06-08-14




.


Details | Rhyme | |

Night trail

in the light of darkness
a moon and her stars
faded harshly away
hands of my hours
dwell in their eternal moment
in a time framed ballet

eyes adapted to the dark
mirror miniscule
a mouse into an elephant
the almost invisible night owl
whizzes traceable yet silent
downwards like a celebrant

one small pinched squeak
most pervading affirmation 
of a heavenly nutritious act
down below a different sound
terse trampling of fleeing mouse
a stampede displays life's a fact

once completely paralyzed 
in the midst of the Black Forrest
in breathless adoration since
eternal memories forth live
symphonies nestled in my mind
me and a night owl's secret flirtation

(c) Elly Wouterse
Night Owl - Poetry Contest
Contest Winner Medal
	3	Night trail	Elly Wouterse


Details | I do not know? | |

pakshi

main hu ek aajad pakshi ki trah
udti hu khule aasman me
jise n koi chinta, kisi ke shikar karne ki
udati rahu puri jindagi, aajad pakshi ki trah
koi n rakhe mujhe bandhi bna kar 
udati rahu, udati rahu, aajad pakshi ki trah
khane ke liye bhatku idhar -udhar
n mile mujhe khane ke liye
bhukhe pet hi so jau
kitne bhi kasht mile, has kar sah lu unhe
koi phark n pade, ab kisi kasht ka
aadat hi ho gayi ab hume
main hu ek aajad pakshi ki trah
udati hu khule aasman me


Details | Prose | |

Duck Chatter

'There used to be a lake right over there. Ducks would eat in it, children would swim in it, it was a great lake. One day these ducks were in the pond, and the temperature dropped so fast, that the lake just froze right up. The ducks didn't die, they flew away and took that whole lake right with them. To this day I hear that lake is somewhere over in Georgia.' (Idgie from Fried Green Tomatoes)

My mother ‘kept’ over two hundred ducks, fed them bread and had a pond.
It never froze so the ducks just stayed year round.  So did the pond.
There is no more bread and no more ducks.
I like to believe that Mother is surrounded by hundreds of ducks in heaven;
sitting in a lawn chair, not feeding them bread but God’s manna 
and that she is laughing and giving them names.
All I can see is her radiant face full of joy.
“Here duck, duck, duck.”


Details | Ballad | |

Dawn is breaking

Dawn is breaking

Willie wagtail in my garden 
Sings a very special song
Telling me the sun is coming
Dawn will break soon, won’t be long
It’s dark outside with full moon shining
But soon the light will show its face
Green parrot makes his bell like music
How his song has so much grace

Kookaburra, he is laughing
Something funny has touched him
Could he be laughing at us human’s
With all our wars and crazy din?
Spring is just around the corner
And all of nature seems to know
As I sit here in the morning
My world it has a special glow.

Now the world has gone all silent
Waiting for the dawn to break
Soon the chorus is beginning
Singing just for loves own sake
All the birds will join the chorus
And my heart will start to sing
How I love these life soaked mornings
Such joy to me they always bring.

25 August 2013 @ 0631hrs.




Details | I do not know? | |

The Onyx Bird

The saddest thing I ever saw
Lay splattered on the floor
An onyx bird with feathers sprawled
I hoped he’d made heaven’s door.

Although his mangled body lay
Lifelessly on sad display.
Those who passed didn’t seem dismayed
But on the road he lay that day

His eyes had lost all their light
With his ability for flight.
And now he rests in god's great might
But still it is a saddened sight.

Do believe me when I say
That was not the tragic part.

Because faithfully at his side
There was a mournful chide,
While ruby blood stains dried.
Another onyx bird will bide.

Forevermore she’ll always long
For his beautiful melodic song.
Until in heaven where they belong
Both the onyx birds may soar like one.


Details | Blank verse | |

kill two birds with one stone

kill two birds with one stone 
why kill two birds with one stone
when one can kill them 
more efficiently with a drone
or more appropriately 
LOVE them through A poem


Details | I do not know? | |

The Carrion and the Vulture of Poetry (Part 1)

The news was brief so take a breath

My "be aware" vision peered its head tonight

Poetry died a tired lonely death

And those damn poets caused the death of might

The carrion of poetry lay still with blood of ink

After years of neglet it finally gave in

As the "poets" unite to slay the beast

The "poets" unite to set it to sleep

Together they committed suicide

Together now turn to genocide

For "poets" forgot to feed its soul

Now the carrion of poetry lies down low

A bird of prey sits on a perch

The bird of prey from poetrys church

Now cleans her head of former blood

As she looks down to see the "poets" flood

She sees them cry so desperatly

Sobbing their ink of insecurity

She perches high to see the show

Of silly poets who killed their own

She elongates her wings to free

As they have been waiting constantly

For mooments like this are natures call

For moments like this bare souls to all

Her claws of might clutch to the sky

Grab a hold the tears of Gods cry

For HE created man to see

The death of themself from poetry


Details | Villanelle | |

The messenger

Raven, flying through the night
bringer of everlasting rest
against his word you must not fight

Works for the one who takes the light
the one who knows what time is best
raven, flying through the night

For although his words may bite
to you he flew from his nest
against his word you must not fight

Through his master's strong might
he can speak to the smallest pest
raven, flying through the night

His master sends him to the site
and though you think I jest
against his word you must not fight

While I sit here, this I write
he is perched on my shoulder cawing with zest
raven, flying through the night
against his word I must not fight


Details | Free verse | |

Freakazoid

There's a bird in my head 
and it's freaking me out
because it won't stop chirping.

All I can envision 
are plastic dolls 
smoking cigarettes in the panic room
and talking about boys
The bird keeps chirping.
I'm trying to read 
this guy's suicide note
but it's written in ransom note effect
so I'm a little confused.
The bird keeps chirping.
This paper thin world
keeps slicing my skin
with stinging swipes
from the razor rims of its paper thin sheets
The bird keeps chirping.
Blood rains in a bottomless drip
like I'm a hemophiliac 
but I'm not
or am I?
The bird keeps chirping.
I'm paralyzed 
like a tree rooted into the Earth
amidst a gust of wind
my human arms flail in hysteria
but the rest of me 
is a mannequin.
The bird keeps chirping.
The world is fuzzy
like a limb that has slipped into slumber
The bird keeps chirping.
static feedback
is all that's left
it's the only thing that remains real
and I can't see straight within the inert realm
The bird keeps chirping.
There's a vice grip 
locked around my throbbing temples
as cold as steel's surface
The bird keeps chirping.
A single click 
rose from out of nowhere
and somehow broke through the noise 
but still
The bird keeps chirping.
Death's edge
feels like it's an inch beyond my stagnant feet
The bird keeps chirping.
The world disintegrates 
as fast as a scorching hot bullet 
cutting through a cardboard target
cutting through skin
cutting through bone.
cutting through life.
The bird stops chirping.  




Details | Ballad | |

The joy of the pheasant shoot

The joy of the pheasant shoot.

Getting set for the big event
The good folk do their stuff
They beat the earth with sticks, do they?
With their little dogs so tough 
They flush those pheasants from the scrub
So all can have some fun
Killing them with smiling faces
As they fire beloved guns.

Then as the pheasants in a panic
They bolt into the sky
Our hero’s with their guns in hand
Make sure that hundreds die
As the air is filled with the cracking sounds
As birds fall all around
Just so these fools can get there jollies
These corpses cover ground.

I wonder sometimes if these hero’s
Have any souls at all
That they could get such satisfaction
Doing these acts so cruel
Sometimes it leaves me speechless
At the way folk get their pleasure
Killing beauty just for fun
Is an ugly kind of leisure.

10 September 2013 @ 1340hrs




Details | Ballade | |

Evening lullaby

Oh hear thee well the music
It’s the Maggies lullaby
They’re warbling in that Banksia tree
As the day begins to die.
And their haunting goodnight serenade
Says goodbye to the day
As the Sun lies down to sleep the night away.

Just four weeks from our Spring
My heart feels so alive
As I’m sitting on my garden seat
It be an hour since five.
And as those maggies hush their song
The fountain carries on
She’ll still be heard when all be hushed and gone.

Six Buddha’s seem to sense the silence
There’s a certain kind of glow
As I melt into the evening time
And  swim within the flow.
And the evening says “it’s time to rest
Until the blessed morn
Now each must die, on the morrow be reborn”.

17 July 2004


Details | Ballad | |

The Ibis episode

The Ibis Episode

Today I walked into my garden
To give our dog attention
{Now he’s a dog so big and strong
I guess this I should mention}
And then my eyes, rested upon
This bird, a sacred Ibis
Which made me worry quite a bit
Cause my pond was filled with fish.

This big birds strutted round the place
He could not seem to fly
But I knew that if my Boy caught him
The poor bird well might die
So I was in a quandary
As to what I well might do
So I put the dog into the house
So I could think thing s through

I walked up to the mulberry tree
{He was perched upon a limb}
And I really got quite close to him
And softly spoke to him
He didn’t seem to mind at all
But then, he flew away
It seems he wasn’t hurt at all
Which really made my day.