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Easter Bird Poems | Bird Poems About Easter

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

Details | Sonnet |

Cockoo

I started hooping like a bunny,
Carrying my big chocolate egg,
But thought it could be funny
To hop while using just one leg,
 
I saw thru the window’s frame
A cuckoo bird on the ground.
She and I were doing the same,
So I imitated the cuckoo’s sound.
 
She was curious and I was too:
Did the bird understand my coo?
 
Or she only wanted to protest:
“Put back this egg on the nest!”
 
So I undid the egg’s blue lace:
“Would you do too in my place?”
 
Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo 


Details | Free verse |

HOW THE WOOD STORKS BROKE MY HEART

Afternoon, late March, delivering promise
of downtime from errands, long lines at the post,
queues of cars at stoplights, what, if anything, is in
the pantry for supper.  A glass of wine is nice, will suffice
against the mind's continuous monolog, news of unrest
in distant lands, world hunger, and men on South
Africa's wild coast who believe raping small girls
will cure them of their AIDS.  For respite, I turn
to the wood storks and two world-class pines, sending
a blessing of straw and symmetrical cones into protective 
lake growth, sealing its borders with a scrim
of airy viridian; birthright of sea birds seeking evening 
asylum.  So, what to do about an invasion of enormous
jaws that take no prisoners on a battlefield of buzz saws?
Machetes, felling pines, wild shrubs, and indigenous
palmettos with which landscapers decorate yards
of costly homes.  Development, Progress, New
Construction?  Words to glamorize rape of wetlands.
The storks are flying away, now, from across the lake,
where once in heart-stopping numbers they bivouacked
against the advent of night.  This day, this hour,
they take wing, bird by bird in a ghostly exodus,
taking their "Reflection of nearly all light
from all visible wave links," purer than masses
of lilies on an Easter grave.


Details | Lyric |

HOW THE WOOD STORKS BROKE MY HEART

Afternoon, late March, delivering promise 
of respite from errands, long lines at the post office, 
queues of cars at red lights, what, if anything, is in
the offing for supper.  A glass of wine is nice, will soften
the mind's noisy dissertation, news of unrest in 
distant lands, world hunger, and men on South Africa's
Wild Coast who believe raping small girls will cure 
their AIDS.  For respite, I turn to the wood storks 
and two world-class pines, sending perfect drifts of straw 
and symmetrical cones into the protective lake-growth 
ornamenting edges with a scrim of airy viridian: birth-
right of sea birds needing evening asylum.  Now, 
there's an unwanted invasion of enormous jaws, taking
no prisoners on a battlefield of buzz saws. Machetes 
fell pines, artless shrubs and perfect palmettos that greedy 
landscapers treasure to decorate the yard-scapes of 
costly homes.  Development, New Construction?  Words-- 
glamorizing rape of wetlands. The birds are flying out, 
now, from across our lake, where once in heart-
stopping numbers, they bivouacked against the arrival 
of night. This day, this hour, they take wing, bird 
by bird in a ghostly exodus, taking their "Reflection 
of nearly all light from all visible wave links," whiter 
than masses of lilies on an Easter morning.  O, 
lost blessing, these birds, taking healing 
and our hearts in their exodus.