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Funeral Bird Poems | Bird Poems About Funeral

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

Details | Ballad |

From The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand - THE RUINS OF THE ANCIEN REGIME




Farewell, then, AUKN boss,
The next this year makes three.
By the time they find a substitute,
Slovenes will be at sea.

He tried to cover his behind;
AUKN boss of bosses,
As every week, balances grew bleak:
He weighed merits and losses.

With all this he'd no time to eat,
And round and round he flew.
And now he's split in a hissy-fit;
So helmsman, too-de-loo!

Day after day, day after day,
He drifted on the ocean;
Guano-vernment rained on his ship
Their suggestions for promotion.

Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Corporate boards crosslink;
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Let's take you for a drink.

Accountants talking rot: O Christ!
Missions, visions - oh please!
Yea, slimy characters need legs
And slimy policies.

So has he done an hellish thing?
Not hired who? We dunno:
Was it absurd, to have a separate curd
From the whey Slovenia owes?
This wretch won't play, after 60 days;
Pissflaps, he'll have to go!

God help ya, gospod Bencina
From the fiends, that plague us thus! -
It's time to go — shot like cross-bow,
The AUKN boss.

Ah! walk-out day! what evil looks
Had I from Ernst and Young!
Who's at a loss? AUKN's boss
Wouldn't take a bung?

"You'll be" quoth one, "abolished - no
Stigma to double-cross."
He chose to go - why? We don't know:
Harmless AUKN boss.


Re-reading the original gave me a great idea for dinner until I realised all the storks have all flapped off to Africa for the winter. Pity, as I have some ancient marinade from Tuš. Like the subject of the poem, I didn't have the stamina for a Coleridge-length effort.

Story: http://www.sloveniatimes.com/total-mess-in-state-owned-capital-asset-management

The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand interprets important Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world. www.maria.si


Details | Quintain (Sicilian) |

My Little Bird

I heard my little bird singing the breeze,
I heard her singing on a breath of air,
The air that slowly moves through forest trees,
The old, oak trees where initials declare,
Declarations made upon love’s high trapeze.

Old memories recalled again today,
Another day, another time, we knew,
I knew that bird song would echo my way,
The way a joyful song reminds of you,
The you that I hold dear in my heart to stay.

In memory of my little bird, Tash

RIP sweetheart!

xxxx





Form: Sicilian Quintains


Details | Free verse |

The Bird that is Loved and Loathed

It burns and it stings.
It hurts.
More than drowning beneath 
the ice.
More than remaining in a 
kindled flame
She hits and I no longer cry.
Why mother, why? 

It burned and it stung.
The markings remained, 
returned, and were relived
Looking, loving, and little 
known loathing were the known 
ways of living.
Never was their pity for the 
child that cried
Never was their relief for the 
child that tried

You were that lovely bird that 
understood the complications of 
felicity 
Nothing looked the same in 
those dewy browns of yours.
My everbeating would cry tears 
of joy.
The others-they were yet to 
appear.
Caring Mother, o' so fair
 You were that beautiful bird 
filled with care.

The others came and were not 
alone. Their two suitors sat on 
the throne.
Rampage and rage why did you 
come?
I began to wither and wither 
slumping along. So very soon I-
the child of fines- became a 
human raceme. 
The droops of the Lily of the 
Valley became the slumping of 
my heart.
My lovely bird the enemy had 
taken you and the person you 
were is far from near.
For that divine nature left its 
intricate self and you became 
irretrievable my big bird.
All of your fairness died.
With that went my pride.
 
Mother, Mother what moved 
you so? 
Your intense spirt vanished only 
to supplement a monster. 
Mother, Monster and your tar 
filled lungs. 
How did I kill that liver that was 
so, so strong?
The lesson of pain was one you 
came to learn.
My darling bird why did you 
turn?
 
My lovely bird and your big 
brown eyes
I'll tell you once, but never 
twice.
Pain is only a flower for it 
blooms and dies
And a mistake can be killed as 
quickly as lice.
 You dear bird hurt me well. 
Though, haven't you heard?
Weakness is a souls greatest 
strength.
You brought me up, then you 
brought me down.
You haved helped, hurt, and 
hindered my blazing spirit.
A hero in my heart-I left you 
down in your deep black 
slumber. 
Escaping those terrible nights
To go for the town of delights. 


Details | Free verse |

POEM FOR EUNA DAVIS

 A very throaty Warbler issued
Quavering Trills in a morning song -  
As he serenaded the dew
drops on the grateful trees
 
Other birds were answering with
songs of praise from familiar days.
No one taught them
how to sing or gave them
the messages they so proudly bring.
Birds form near and far
joined in as if to say -
 
We will add our voices to remind you,
that we are cheerful and we sing for you.
We are aware-we are awake-
and we are awesome
chirping and singing our songs as
we bath in puddles of raindrops.
 
We remember the timing of the of the
golden and silver songsters.
Ruffling feathers coquettishly
as each song in the distance stirs
up fond memories of your existence.
The caw-caw, the peeps,and the chirps;
The caw -caw again and
the melodic harmony begins
Orchestrating the morning worship
in celebration of this life.
 
One songster descanted a high range
as he sang a louder pitch
Distinctly he told tales of ancestors
with welcoming smiles
.
The siren in the distance and the
overhead plane Threatened the calm
The plane resounded as thunder
above all the noise
the birds continued to sing.
I Listened as they go on to conclude
in exuberant delight Warblers warbling
 
Tweet- tweets deliberating discussions
many more chirps peeps and tweets
During the morning meditation.
 
As the world passes by
I'd listen to the birds serenade-
I'd listen to the clucks-
and the cackles, I'd listened
to the throaty warbler-
as he resumes the lead song.
The other birds in turn join in again..
 
The world rejoices in their songs
all over the universe-
the rest of my day
could never be as great as
the moments in the morning when
I'd meditate and listen to the birds sing.
 
A loved one closed her eyes
and made her transition;
The chirking birds know-
That the only triumph over
death is to have lived a good life.
 
So they continue to sing.
I'd sit and solemnly listen to the message
that their chipping brings
I softly say goodbye.
We shall never forget Euna Davis
as long... As early in the morning
We be reminded in jubilant birdsong.