Twelve brazen bars, one frozen lock!
Confined, sublime, an ancient Roc
endures inside a barren cage,
her catacomb in sundown sage.
Of former days there is no trace
except displays of fallen grace –
Twelve dreams, abiding in her place,
are free, inhabit yawning space:
... of wings unfurled, and seething eyes
that dredge the depths of dawning skies,
devining clouds that cling below,
once ice, dissolved in morning’s glow;
... of clutching winds that carry free
above an anguished leaden sea,
dispersing dust of distant stars
midst chunks of chain in slave bazaars;
... of swooping to a silent shore
to perch beside the ocean’s roar,
at last to feel the sobbing breeze
message the leaves of rooted trees;
... of stalking strays and twilight tramps
within the fog of lighthouse lamps
that blink forlorn through caldron nights
in search of shades of errant Kites;
... of darkling vast deserted lands,
with shadowed stones on windswept sands,
where ghosts of Moorish maidens lost
disgorge faint groans in mourning frost;
... of blotting out the bloated moon
while feathers beat a banshee tune
and glimmers dance and prance aglow
upon a pearly pale plateau;
... of tasting cool torrential rains,
beyond the realm of binding reins,
and sipping freedom they exude
in quiet drops of solitude;
... of vanquishing a galley crew
aboard a ship of midnight dew,
beneath the pierce of seagulls' screams
that mock the strands of scarlet streams;
... of sating once an aching craw
with tearing beak, with ripping claw,
and echoed by an eldritch screech
while feasting on abandoned beach;
... of restive thoughts and weary wings
that drift on haze in smoky rings,
obscured within the opal shroud
of her resemblance in the crowd;
... of croaking caws in broken rhyme
in winter woe, in summer clime,
while building nests of sundown sage
beyond outside a barren cage.
Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2012
Parents nurture young
Finally freedom to fly
Fledglings spread their wings
28th April 2015
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
The day will come....
When I would touch the
Waves of the Air
I would fly with Birds
I would dance with Peacock
the day will come....
The day will come...
When i would swim with Ducks
I would sing with cuckoos
Where nobody will be there
to pull a full stop.
Where i would really enjoy my life
Where I'll not have the fear of the cruel
who will tear
my wings and destroy
I am looking for the day
just that day
when I'll be a Bird and
fly above the horizon
When I'll forget my past
and be the free ME!
DATE: 6th may 2015
Copyright © Aarushi pandey | Year Posted 2015
Baby bird now sings his song
When the others are away,
Watching all the wolves below
As they wait to catch their prey.
Time goes by, and sadness calls,
For they’ve left him all day long;
Still, he chirps his lonely tune,
Hoping love will hear his song.
Oh, if he were big and strong
And could howl right past the moon,
He’d take a breath and cry it out:
“Please get here, love me soon!”
The clan returns to him at last
To ease his lonely blues.
It’s all he knows, it’s all he’s got
So much is there to lose.
And when the sun reclaims the dawn
Again he knows they’ll leave;
To venture on his own; “No way,
For they would surely grieve.”
Nestled under mother’s wing
Too scared to flee the nest,
This flightless bird, whose soul has wept,
Bears perched life as the best.
But mother glides; he’s all alone,
And wonders what could be,
Believing there is something more
Worthwhile beyond the tree.
Could he perhaps jump off the branch
And fit in with the pack;
Or fly beyond the forest line
Intrigued by this new track?
He hears the sweet soft melody
Like the one he likes to sing.
Longing to be free from all
These leaves beneath his wing.
Convinced she won’t accept him
For no yellow bird is she,
He tweets his beats to tell her
That, in fact, neither is he.
Learning of a bird so brave
She drew closer to his nest
To glimpse the autumn colour
Beating boldly from his chest.
Dismayed by blatant fear,
In this beautiful young thing—
Who wished for gusty freedom
To sing the songs he liked to sing—
She sang out to his calling,
Telling him that she was near:
“And when the time is right to fly,
Let go and I’ll be here.”
She worried for his safety,
For the wolves were all around.
Ready for the pounce, were they,
And sure he’d hit the ground.
Melody so believed in him
And sang as loudly as she could,
To guide him through uncharted air
So he could fly like birdies should.
“Spread your wings, now, little one,
No need to fear at all.
For I’ll be there to catch you
If you should sadly fall.”
Assurance was all he needed
And with that he did soar.
“Hunters who? No prey am I;
I’ll fear sweet life no more!”
Repost: One of the poems I posted in my earlier days of Poetrysoup. I must have deleted it!
Copyright © Nicola Byrne | Year Posted 2016
is not a crime, but still;
birds are kept in steel jails.
- Augastus Black
Date - 28th August 2016
Copyright © Augustus Black | Year Posted 2016
Hoot! Hoot! Came the call
In silence I listened,heard
Suddenly, hoot! Hoot!
Came the cry,tree
Seems the world was in
Went I to the window
and Looked into the
empty Darkness. As I lay
down,I Knew somewhere
I would Hear that sound
Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013
Peace of nature shows
how relaxing life can be
and can show you truth
Copyright © Christian Childs | Year Posted 2013
Blue bird, blue bird
Come sing with me
Silence is killing me inside
I feel so lonely
Blue bird, blue bird
Be my friend
I'm all alone in this room
Nothing around me but an empty bed
Blue bird, blue bird
Can you feel my pain?
I can see it, there in your eyes
A little drop of rain
Blue bird, blue bird
I know you are sad inside
The moment you saw my tears
You gently bit my hand
Blue bird, blue bird
When you sang with me
You made me releif my pain
My thanks to you is to set you free
Copyright © Kaila B.A | Year Posted 2013
Trapped like a bird in this filthy cage
Where I am starved of compassion and understanding
Left to survive on meager crumbs
Of affection and tolerance
Held captive and unable to fly and be free
From the physical and emotional restrictions
Placed upon me by my keeper
Who’s only reason for my presence it seems
Is to stay its loneliness and insecurity
To feed its selfish need for control
Through its twisted concept
Of love and adoration
I am looked upon as a possession
Other than the living, breathing individual
That I long to be
So now I sit upon my proverbial perch
In my so called gilded cage
In the confines of my seemingly mundane existence
And walk though my mind confused and alone
Aimlessly wandering through the now empty spaces
That no longer hold the dreams or aspirations
Which I once thought gave my life purpose
Memories which were bright and alive
Full of promise and hope but have faded away
Into a past that is now grey and bleak
Devoid of anything worth remembering
My footfalls echo in the silence
Giving testament that these memories
Have been empty and forgotten long ago
My only hopes now are that my keeper
Will grow tired of my deliberate silence
And obvious disdain and release me
Whether through life or by death
At this point either would be welcome
How I long for the freedom
And comfort of the clear blue sky
The ability to soar like a bird
High above the reaches
Of those who only want to keep me
And fly towards the bright and colorful horizon
Where I know my future waits
And new memories and dreams can be made.
Copyright © Thomas King | Year Posted 2014
A Christmas walk in soft sun of winter
Across crisp fields of umber and green,
A sharp breeze blowing with freedom
On their faces, aglow with the hope
Of seeing one again – a bird; their bird,
Soaring and diving defiantly so.
The eagle. Powerful, swift and so
Free. Wings outstretched on currents of winter
Warmth, rising higher than any other bird.
It’s golden feathers shimmering over green
Hills and clear blue skies, in the hope
Of spying prey, running in a last bid for freedom.
They looked and walked and talked in freedom,
Enjoying the country lanes and paths in so
Carefree a manner; such a rich land of hope,
Bursting with creatures alive in the winter
Meadows: robins, rabbits, hares, a green
Woodpecker, and many a chattering bird.
They paused to rest and listen to bird
Song and breeze, relishing in the freedom
At the heart of nature, so fresh and green;
When suddenly, they saw a bush shaking so
Violently. They stopped and stared, the winter
Wind? Too strong. They watched in hope
Of seeing something curious, or in the hope
Of discovering if this at last was their bird,
Hunting untamed in the wilds of winter.
They approached, careful not to intrude on the freedom
Of the wild, but all they could see was a fluttering so
Urgent, flapping wings, a rubbed-raw leg, a thread of green.
A blackbird was trapped on a branch by green
String; frantic, desperate panic, yet hope
Shone in its eyes, pleadingly so.
They spoke softly, carefully untying the bird,
Which flew off to the wind in a cry of freedom.
They felt proud, liberated, in a wonderland of winter.
They ran home for dinner of green sprouts and festive roast bird;
Bred in darkness and stench, no hope of daylight or freedom.
Incarcerated, deformed, wounded so bad, in a long-hardened winter.
Spare a thought for your turkey this Christmas…
Copyright © Charlotte Kingsfield-Blake | Year Posted 2014
Gazing out upon dusky barren moor,
Where gray grass grasps the air
Finding no purchase but sad allure
Straight stalks elapse their endless despair.
Teased by tales of golden reach
Tricked by gales, whose song they preach.
Redtail’s velvet wings breach the sky,
Maroon lips who kiss the grass
Stirring the song, its desperate sigh
Catching the words, her beak of crystal glass
Behind her, midnight shadow draws
Fells her beauty with unseen charcoal paws
Scarlet tears dampen the earth below
Nurture the roots held by dusty truth
Finally, the wind, gray grass’ will bestow
The hawk once, now the fountain of youth.
Litany of silence reigns in dusky glare,
Each blade bowed in mournful prayer.
Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015
W ellness is our glorious gift this year.
O rigami cranes set in flight by the winds
N avigate the festive New Year celebrations
D elighting children and the young at heart with
E ternal life and freedom they signify.
R ewards of this past year are embraced by
F amily and friends as they gather together
U nified in giving grateful homage for Divine
L ove bestowed in answered prayers.
Connie Marcum Wong
January 5, 2016
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016
BEAK OF NIGHT
Following the glow in every star in my eyes
I lay here in the frenzy grass with swimming thoughts
Thunder hides in the still of the night
Doves fly high in an epic way
Swans glide in the mist of night
Everest tears, run down my cheeks
------- I left you-------------------
The wind carries the sorrow from a chime,
A touch with aromatic perfume, that turns out control
My shadows peeks around the warmth of a Phoenix mirage
My head is losing balance to a negative magnetic seal
Sleepwalking with the tendency to crawl
My feelings stray as I lay on this frenzy grass of snow
Years that come and years that go
Things In life I will never know
I pass the morning till the night popsicles away
A blanket of snow to cover my dream
Wings taking flight near the river stream
Mockingbirds protecting their branch
In every scream!
---------------- Far Away-------------
Leaves fall on me like an endless Odyssey Romance
I'm a lonely sparrow with an enigmatic look
A Gothic Dance, under the stars
Prancing under the devil's claw
I hold myself
Side to side
I lose myself to an ironic form.
Zero is what I can't perceive.
With and without a beak
The mystique of my lips
Is all billiard-up
My mouth sewn shut
--------------No Words, Indeed------
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011
It’s so hard to balance myself every day on a pole
With my wings all clipped, and cut out with my soul
Hung on a ceiling, it may just as well be a hole
Where I am perched at the edge where I rock and I roll
As an old church bell rings out the names of many a free soul
It’s so hard for me to find my way, and to ever be free
Where on this pole, I only see the outside of a glass wall
I dream of flying away each day but will they ever let me?
Even if I fell off the perch, and hurt, there is nowhere to fall
I am just so tired of balancing myself on this old cold pole
If not I can’t see outside and dream I break thru the glass wall
If I drop to the bottom again, I know I won’t see anything at all
Like in the dark of the night, there is nothing to see at all
As the curtain each night is pulled over to hide the glass wall
As I wait alone hung out on a porch on a hook and a pole
With only dreams to fly, one day on the other side with you all
And with no one to help me out of this dark caged hole
Where I sit and I wait to hear the bells ring their very next toll
Hung out in the cold dark night, on a hope and a dream to be free
As I wait by the window hoping the next bell that rings is for me
Copyright © Cynthia Ferguson | Year Posted 2015
Since childhood I was always fascinated with nature
Curious to know how plants grow
Always intrigued by the ingenuity of ants
And mesmerized by the coordination
And spectacular tactics of birds.
Birds come in different colors and species
They symbolize many conditions and have various
Significance and meaning in different cultures.
You have the nightingale and the humming birds
And the whippoorwill is perhaps the most cunning
of all species because it can camouflage itself.
Even though you can hear its distinctive sound
It's difficult to be identified.
I used to listen to them singing in nature
singing melodious tune, tunes that span beyond
Centuries, tunes reminding us that life is still divine.
I love to watch them soaring in the sky
flying from north to east, south to west
Until nature bids them to take their rest.
Birds embrace freedom and they hold the power of truth
they are unique messengers so the next time you see one
land on your doorstep just figure out if it is genuinely from nature
who send it, and what it is trying to say before you angrily chase it away.
Birds have wit and might, they are powerful
communication tools, they earn their keep from nature
and that’s how they stay alive
like the cows and the sheep
they can see way out in the deep.
Something peculiar has been happening in nature
I have been observing something unusual from the sky
While walking down the street the sun burst from
underneath a dark, cold overcast sky
and spread its light over me then suddenly disappeared.
Each time I take a stroll an army of birds appear from
nowhere and split up into different directions,
they form groups of six, seven and eight, three,
four, two, one and groups of twelve.
Sometimes they are so many that I can hardly count them.
It didn't seem as if they were on a journey, it appeared as if
They were caged up somewhere and were suddenly released
into the atmosphere.
My curiosity grew deeper when I pounced upon
a man attracting the birds with feed laced with
corn grain and black sunflower seeds.
This was quite unusual because
no one in the entire neighborhood feed birds
I could read right into this mysterious cultural behavior
not only was he making a statement,
he was marking something by placing
the bowl of feed in front of the house
under my window and luring the birds to
fly from all directions to feed from the bowl.
They say that black birds are symbol of human soul
and they symbolize happiness, intelligence and wisdom;
they also have deep religious meaning.
Always remember that everything we do
evil always hinges close by good
to make things seem inconspicuous.
Legend has it to say that the devil appeared to St. Benedict
in the form of a black bird to tempt him.
Long time ago my kindergarten teacher
used to teach me this poem by mother goose,
“Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye,
four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened the birds began to sing
wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?
The king was in the counting-house counting out his money,
the queen was in the parlor eating bread and honey,
the maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes.
Along came a blackbird and snipped off her nose.”
Birds are free habitats of nature
they do not earn their keep from artificial feed
but from natural food in the environment.
So the next time you see a bowl of bird feed
laced with black sun flower seed and corn
do not take it for granted
something is deeper than bird feed.
©2015 Christine Phillips
Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2015
I am bird thinking about nothing
Seeing this freedom while I’m well flying
Can’t stop to flap my wings and feel this breeze
Seizing this moment like I’m all well freeze
I see those mountains soaring to skies,
World is better without beautiful lies
Gazing those rivers running silently,
I’ve heard those old trees shaking visibly
I see hundreds of people roaming with pleasure,
Enjoying the instants of His good treasure
Looking everywhere and see cheerful smiles,
Witness everything in just few miles
I’m a free bird seeing this wondrous place,
Just keep on flying in this widest space!
God made a sweet nature for someone like me
It’s a land that is certain for everybody!
Copyright © Lei Strauss | Year Posted 2015
The birds singing in the sky
their song of freedom
Copyright © Lala Merx | Year Posted 2013
stiff wings spread -
blue skies call
Copyright © David De la Croes | Year Posted 2016
"'Cause when your back's against the wall
That's when you show no fear at all
And when you're running out of time
That's when you hitch your star to mine
We won't be leaving by the same road that we came by"
~Keane - My Shadow Lyrics ~
There is no celestial place for you to guide my thoughts
Can you not see that I am free from you?
I am a black bird perched high in the treetops
You will hear my crowing and you may hate it
But my dear, you cannot take away my voice!
Yet still, as fire oppresses forests of life,
You can abuse my freedom to find your glory
You may discard these words for your love of gods,
And in so doing you may simply ignore
All the cries that I so passionately utter
But my infectious species will guide your mind straight back
To that once so lonely treetop where you merely glanced
And there will be multitudinous, oppressing thoughts
That shall enslave you and bind you unwillingly
The crows will only grow louder when you turn away—
When you pretend to ignore with your remaining, strangling pride
For my voice is a production sent from above
Dispatched to judge you pitilessly for your swelling lies!
And the choirs of ferocious beaks shall open forever
Harmony and dissonance as one
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
I talked to trees about you.
I told them “don’t they importunate.”
“I texted you already”
I miss you every day.
Will tell you I need to do something
Once upon a time in a faraway mountain
Speaking in a language
Only the wind and lost people understood
A group of trees stood
I told them “I usually talk to someone every day”.
It’s a big change to be in this mountain
And they the trees said
“So why don’t you talk to him everyday”
I told him “he is far”.
And the trees said “but you are still far”
I told tree “yes it’s both the same being far”
But here in this mountain I am not free
So this is a big change for me
So the trees said
“You can still talk to him”
“We will bring your thoughts”
“And let it cross to oceans”
“Until your memory matches”
But I said if I keep thinking I might suffer
And I might run to cross the ocean myself
And the trees said “when we too feel this we pray to our maker”
“Because trees practice patience too”
I told them that I know that, but I thank them for reminding me.
I also told them “that because we talked everyday for a long time.”
I can be patient not to talk to him for a long time because God gave me that as a gift in advance.
So patience is just a small payment for this silence.
So I am calm already.
I told them “he loves trees too”
And he used to climb mountains when he was younger.
So they like you too
I also told them that you got your back pain from trotting the hills
So they told me “when you come back home talk to him about us”
They said “tell him we kept you company”
“And we tried not to let our twigs and branches fall on your hut when the wind is strong”
I also told them that you have lectures about trees.
And they drooled over it.
One tree said “oh he seems to be a good guy”
I told them you are pretty too.
There are many trees there.
Some of them have holes in the middle.
Wounds made from fighting between the military and the freedom fighters
But they stand still oblivious to their surrounding and their predicament
They are as tall as three to four storey buildings.
And they are thick while some have hollow centers
Ah trees have seen so many things
I hope they didn’t get tired of my staring
With my niqab they can see my eyes so tired
I have to sleep.
We will talk again tomorrow
The durian there is creamy
Gift of Allah to those who can’t go home.
In the month of Ramadan
I sleep and tomorrow we talked.
23 April 2014
Copyright © Neldy Jolo | Year Posted 2014
Night casts shadows on hollowed ground
An eagle flies, painful the screams;
While reddish crown lifts, armed with grit
That its rafters fight bleak of dreams.
Wisps of clouds, like puffs of smoke
Rage on stents of bushy trees
Its royal pose and nest fledgling,
Are caught up in a claw's tight squeeze.
With fervor calling through the winds
Bold eyes glare in kingly action;
With courage releasing true will
From grim hunters of destruction.
Soon mighty eagle flees by night,
Wings swooping to escape arrest;
To gather might for life ahead
Unfolding freedom at its best.
Screwed Vlll Contest
Sponsor: rob carmack
~Dedicated to the endangered Monkey Eagle of Asia
which may become extinct due to unlawful hunting.~
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
On moonlit bay do herons row
With swerving curves their plumes unfurl
As white-bleached robes dip into twirls.
Forms pose around the ridge, aglow
Allowing limbs to flaunt contours
While breezes watch near migrant lure.
Down shoreline wide, beaks sting a blow
To feast on prey before long flight
And rest through foams of soft twilight.
Mid-air, flock wheels a graceful flow
Ascending high on crowns afire
Like lofty rite along sky’s lyre.
And high above,birds croon...hello!
Where freedom leaps, a nature’s gift
Inspiring herons’ roam, adrift.
On moonlit bay do herons row
Forms pose around the ridge, aglow
Down shoreline wide, beaks sting a blow
Mid-air,flock wheels a graceful flow
And high above, birds croon...hello!
Andrea's Inspiration, Connie's Form.
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014
Free falling from Heaven
Not a care in the world
The majestic eagle
Taking it in
Blues and green
A spectrum of colors
of God's greatest scenes
Wings so mighty
they were meant to soar
Flying high above mountains
Feeling the winds of change
Oh how I wished I could be so free
Take a quick look at my mirrored reflection
While passing atop a river
What a sight to see
My feet skimming the water
We should all take a second
Take in the peace
Embrace all the beauty
Of this wonderful place
Copyright © Lisa Brannon | Year Posted 2016
to be free again no tears the land of plenty as the spirits soar
Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
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
Copyright © SANGITA CHOUDHARY | Year Posted 2013
An invisible prison
that binds the soul
to the ground.Mankind
has become like a bird
in a narrow Cage.The
bird is able to see a
small shaft of Light
and freedom over the
Hill in the distant but
it is unable to venture
out through the open
gate and leap on the
back of the wind and
soar through the sky.
When man refutes the
notion that life exists
only through a dust
covered window then
will he realize he has
the key and no longer
live in a self- Imposed
Copyright © Haile Tesfaye | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
From the nest of globalization
Like a dove filled with aspiration
Let citizens spread their wings
And fly out into the world.
Where fields are filled with grains
Dams are filled with water
And cities never sleep
While children take nap.
Carrying the mountains of cash and books
Which are digitized in its beaks
Moving the economy forward
By sharing where required.
Copyright © Venkatesh Raghava | Year Posted 2015
I am an old farmer . I cannot see my figure only on the water face of our lovely rivulet . It was small like my dream , at that time I was child , dissolved in the butterfly colors . Oh the purity which they steal it , they take our smooth olive , make missile and death from it , then they told me that I am a serious criminal plants the olive .
Yes , such that , and without tiredness I shall repeat the birds songs , I shall not care about the world brassy face , nor the one-eyed city . Yes I shall learn the earth the rose voice , and the lonely winds will not find a place in my skin . I am a free bird , I love the mud smell , and I like the noon sun when it touch my face , may be because my father plant me with a wheat seed in our small garden .
Copyright © Anwer Ghani | Year Posted 2015
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 :
Copyright © ness tillson | Year Posted 2013
The peaceful, humble beauty
of a white lily drifting on reflective night
hums a sweet melody
of contrasting light.
Trusting the darkness
to be his throne
and the moon of loneliness
to crown his soft, unheard moan.
I watch from bushes of scorn
that mock him cruelly.
His fragile crest is pierced by the thorn
of rejection and bleeds its sorrows silently.
The rejected jewels of nature are mourning
for the king of the skies to raise his wings
but he can't see beyond remembering
and can't see past the thorn's stings.
Oh, scarred heart of grace,
spread strenght and flee with wild freedom
unto priceless solace
away from this desolate kingdom.
Oh, jewel in creation's crown,
look not to stirred reflection
for it is mere perversion, a frown,
of the white rose of perfection.
Go now, leave behind only
a legacy of despised beauty.
Copyright © Robyn Thomas | Year Posted 2013