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Death Bird Poems | Bird Poems About Death

These Death Bird poems are examples of Bird poems about Death. These are the best examples of Death Bird 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) |

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 | 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


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