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Bird Farewell Poems | Bird Poems About Farewell

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

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Details | Alliteration | |

The Night Owl

Hoot! Hoot! Came the call
In silence I listened,heard
Nothing.
Suddenly, hoot! Hoot! 
Came the cry,tree 
Branches rustling,wings 
Flapping.
Seems the world was in 
Oblivion-the absolute 
Silence.
Went I to the window 
and Looked into the 
empty Darkness. As I lay 
down,I Knew somewhere 
I would Hear that sound 
again.


Details | Rhyme | |

Let me go

              Let me go
 show me out the door with kind words
  I want you to Love me ..
  not punish by Force
 My Prison, my warden 

                 Let me go
          My choice to be Free
      Free of suppression,  of my own creativity
       let me decide for myself
               my destiny 

                Let me go
           let go of me gracefully
     I belong to myself , children and God
       Let me go , let go of me 
                 I am free 
            to choose to love and give
                 I am Free 
          from what burdens me 
                now I am Free
            


Details | Free verse | |

Blood flows like Champaign on a Wedding Day

The poetry I write seems harsh
it seems sad and powerful,
sings songs and pslams to the sorrowful soul,
sung its song in the past of sorrow in all.

The poet's blood flows like champaign
on a wedding day of young couples in love.
Champaign that flows like rivers and streams
in the green plains of Mid West America,
and the poet writes about the land and the bird
that sings afar in a tall, old oak tree
thick at barch with experience and age.

The soul burns and cries out to be freed,
yet sits and reads poetry till the crack of dawn
in an old apartment house on the second floor,
and the rats run along the walls, and the cockroaches
in cerial boxes,
with shotgun in lape and cocked, ready to fire,
one in the chamber.
Whiskey in the lungs,
and whiskey on the ground,
in the hand
and upon the feet
of a sorrowful soul, filled with pain
and age, age full of tender love that never was discovered
by any naive soul.

One time the clock ticks and tocks,
echoes rings in an empty mind,
that echoes the sorrowed mind and tortures the pale soul.
One pull of the trigger,
and the sound of an explosion of faint silence
and a smile on a face of a dead man is shown in the light,
and watch the blood flow on the white pannel wall,
flowing like champaign on a beautiful wedding day.

Two weddings and a funeral...

-11-1-2013-


Details | Free verse | |

Sunlight Farewell

Against the setting sun, I see black silhouettes The sparrows circle, then swoop down, to gather leaves, and violets They weave and build small bassinets Then, sun slips down to take a rest So gently with a golden crown, sun fades away behind the hills And ills are left behind, as well.....as darkness slips around
___________________________________________________________________ For Skat's contest: The Answer... "In Honor Of The Sun" 8/4/15


Details | Haiku | |

Quicksand Bird - Haiku

     Quicksand Bird - Haiku

quicksand folds over
final wave of wing, good-bye
bird succumbs, day ends 


Details | Free verse | |

as a bird

Nice view if only it lingers
Hmmm catch me? You wish
I just crossed bar beach
It hasn’t changed a bit
Same volume of water and same colour as ever
Hope it tastes good too

The market is almost getting filled
Two more persons and it won’t contain
I see those women counting their losses and gain
And the robber laying wait beside the paths for their share to get
So they reap where they didn’t sow

Oh no the fields are on fire
I had hoped to break and take my lunch
But the farmers have gleaned and carried their bunches
Too bad they never had me at heart


Details | Free verse | |

Sense of Touch

That Bench He goes there every day; to that bench in the shade; Where his shoes have formed small clearings in the gravel; where his wool sport coat has rubbed smooth the paint. He goes there every day, to that bench in the shade where the squirrels eat straight from his hand as little birds frantically snatch up seeds he's sprinkled about. He goes there every day, to that bench in the shade but not today…and not again.
08/30/15 Submission for Contest: The Sense of Touch Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud