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Bird Health Poems | Bird Poems About Health

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

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Details | Ballade | |

In love with life

In love with it all

I’m in love with all of it
I haven’t got much wealth
I guess I’m getting older now
I’m running down on health
But I’m in love with all of it
Every blade of grass, each tree
I love it with my heart and soul
I adore its mystery.

Everything in life excites me
I don’t know why this be
But I don’t suffer anymore
With depressive misery
Within my world I am a king
Cause I have everything
Every day is dear to me
Each moment makes my heart sing.

That golden Sun there in the sky
Is looking down on me
As he colors all with wondrous glory
Creating so much mystery
As here I sit, so all alone
The whistling soothes my soul
As canary, caged, just sings for me
And the morning feels so whole.

16 September 2013 @ 1125hrs.


Details | Free verse | |

My Heart Sings

As the first rays of sunshine
wakes me out of my sleepy slumber,
I sat up in bed and looked at my hands.
The taste of stale cigarette smoke of cheap red wine
stained my taste buds.
I walked out of bed,
turned on the radio
(to the classical station)
and my heart beats to the tune
my life and soul smile as the sun shines in my room.
I hear God whispering in my ear
I hear all the words of the world
talking to me,
and I can hear my heart sing a little.
I read my poetry,
get dressed go for a walk,
I smile at the faces that I pass;
The cars I pass,
the houses,
the trees,
the dry lawns,
burnt and that have not been watered in days.
I smile at them and they all smile back,
and my heart sings a little,
and I dance to its simple tune.

My heart sings and I dance too:
slowly melodies,
fast jigs,
rapid jazz and swing music
and waltzes to the chopin masterpieces,
and the romantic stories, novels, the poems,
that fancy your mind with its ryhme schemes,
and after I read such romantic beauty
I smile, and I listen closely to my heart,
and with every beat,
it lets out a verse or two, from a familiar song
that caught my ear on the radio,
and my heart sings
and I smile,
and the world smiles back.

Feeling such beauty
love and romance
it is such a good feeling to live with;
and as the night rolls on,
and the sun goes away
I sit at my desk
writing poetry,
with a cigarette slowly burning away with time,
and I am stuck,
getting drunk of red wine,
I sit back in my chair,
and listen to my heart,
and he sings alittle
and I can write again.
So, there we sit together,
writing poetry,
smoking cigarettes,
drinking wine
to the strike of nine
and we both sing songs of love and romance
together forever.


Details | Rhyme | |

Chicken Karma

Written in 04 when there was a chicken flue scare...Peter

Chicken Karma.

Chickens fighting back with Karma
Coming down with chicken flue.
People watching all those years now
{people being me and you}
Watching all those cruel fellows
I'm the same I watched it too.

Creatures kept in little cages
Beaks cut off to make them meek.
Never seeing sunny weather
No room to move, of this I speak!!
And now us folk be getting worried
That chicken flue our deaths will seek.

Well I be saying "ain't my fault"
But me, I've ate that chicken too.
And I knew what folk were doing
I'd seen the cruel things they do
And now that karma's getting closer
Will the world go down with chicken flu?.

Dec 30 2004.


Details | Ballade | |

In defense of the chook



The chook defense

Now I’m no vegetarian
Though I’d like that this could be
At seventy I’ll never change
So I’m just stuck with me
And I really love’s me chook
In every kind of way
But now I’m in the mood I’m in
I just have this to say…..

If we’re going to eat these chooks
Don’t we owe them some respect
We treat them like commodities
But what I might reflect
Is, if we treat these creatures thus
That God placed on this earth
Then we neglect our very souls
And too our own self worth.

Those birds are treated so damn mean
How can one understand
This cruelty, are we then humane?
It don’t look too damn grand
And where’s the goodness in a food
That’s never seen the sun
So when we treat these birds like this
What damage have we done?

That chicken flue was scary, once
But who knows much at all
About the karma that can come
From things, unnatural.
It’s time for changes in this world
When dosh is not the ‘all’
And then humane might be a word
That’s truly wonderful

10 July 2013 @ 1301hrs.



Details | Rhyme | |

Nature's Single Dads - The Australian Emu

Nature’s Single Dad:
The Australian Emu :
The first 55 days

Emund is busy
preparing his
dance-floor for
partners who’ll put
him to the test. 
His pedigree line
has proven with time

that it is now his
turn, to be best.
He hears them emerge
from the bush as
they gather in
answer to nature’s
call.
They dance, and then
go away, they know
they cannot stay; 
there is not enough
food for them all. 

They dip and they
weave as they mingle
together knowing
that each has a
chance 
With his reputation,
there is no
hesitation; 
he is ready to join
in the dance.
‘Bonk! Bonk,’ comes
the sound of another
arrival, ‘It’s
Emulena!’ he says
with a grin. 
Others move to the
side as he leaves
them mid-stride 
to greet this dancer
as she flounces in.

With sensuous,
rhythmic movement of
hips she fluffs up
her boa, it bounces
in time. 
He matches her mood.
His movements are
smooth 
as they twist and
twirl in their
dancing mime.
He does not fuss
about who takes the
lead, he follows and
their dance now is
ending. 
With steps that are
light he glides to
the right, 	
he meets her, bows
deeply, head
bending.
 	
Emulena says,
“Sorry, we cannot
stay longer, we all
must find paddocks
anew.
It matters not
whether we all stay
together,
we trust you to know
what to do.”
As she speaks, they
deposit their gifts,
and he hears, as in
chorus they say,
“We know you’ll do
magically, what you
do naturally 
to deliver these in
your own way.”

After completing her
task, Emulena stands
tall and she fluffs
up her feathers once
more.
They follow her lead
in twos, and in
threes, 
and promenade across
the dance floor.
Left all alone, he
goes back to his
duties and looks
closely at each pale
green shell.
He checks all for
defects. He sees
they are perfect, 
so with care he
covers every one
well.

He sticks to his
task for fifty-five
days in sunshine,
strong winds and
some showers.
He values each
treasure and tends
them with pleasure 
as he, turns each
egg every three
hours.
Through his long
lashes he sees
danger coming. He
drops his neck down
like a log.
Feathers flying on
high and red fur
prowls near-by; 
he needs to fool
both bird and dog.

The shells have now
turned a dark bluey
green, there’s an
infertile egg in the
batch. 
This egg will be
food for his hungry
brood; 
but he won’t eat or
drink, ‘til they
hatch.
Each day he looks
up, and turns his
head to the sun as
it rises each
morning.
He’ll sit day and
night until the
time’s right.
He knows, that time
comes without
warning.

to be continued...


Details | Free verse | |

Peace

Life deals a tough blow,
Cards of fate seem stacked against you.
Pressures of life pile on thick,
The weight of the world, burring you deep.
Love is not your forte,
No good can you see.

Pause in your thoughts and open your eyes,
Take a look around you, what do you see?
Mountains of rubble, built up to the sky,
Cesspits of rubbish, cluttering the street.
Black clouds of doom, hovering above,
A bird hanging on for life, as the wind sways his branch.

Now close your eyes, and take a deep breath,
Look again at what you see, through eyes refreshed.
Mountains of rubble, their testament to ability,
Cesspits of rubbish, dancing with energy in the street.
Black clouds not of gloom, but filled with life,
A bird in the tree, enjoying the energy of the wind.

From the worms under foot, to the birds up above,
Look beyond your first glance, see with your heart.
From the smallest of things, ugly and course,
To largest of entities, glorious in sight.
Take the time to see, the beauty within,
To find the energy to heal, your peace will then begin.


Details | Free verse | |

Perfect

         Perfect!  (Hypochondria?)

I’m not sick.  I’m not ill.  I’m not crazy.  
There is nothing wrong with being perfect.
My mommy told me so.
"illness anxiety disorder" It’s just a label….Just a name
Like thousands of other names that I can’t say, I can’t spell
Such as the thousands of lethal viruses and bacterial pathogens 
Out to get me.  I know they want me.
As they try to get inside to kill me.
They cross my path without a care
Don't even wipe their feet
They are here!  They are there!  They are everywhere! 
So what.  I don’t care.
I quit my job and wife and life to deal with them
And deal with them I will
They won’t find me.  No sir!
I’ll never leave my house again
I hide in disinfectant waters in day
In scalding hot baths and microwave ovens at night
Me and Purdy; Purdy is my sparrow in a hermetically sealed cage
He would sing all day if he were alive today
But he never was.  He never existed
As you can see he is plastic
Plastic birds don’t sing but they are free
Free from infections, infestations, nasty things found in nature
My birdie is sterilized, sanitized, purified…. like me
We wear our hypoallergenic suits and masks
Which, when applied properly, qualifies us as being clean
Keeps us alive for the time being 


Details | Elegy | |

FINAL NESTING BOX

You lay in the wooden cot,
a broken sparrow,
Crushed. Bony. Frail.
Hair once plumed gold,
greyed to clumped feathers
like ragged  trampled wings,
strawed out on the dank pillow.
Face once blushed pink plump,
Jolly kind of soft with life,
Sucked to bone. Nose to Beak.
Echoes of the mask it will soon become.

I stroked this woman 
now bent back to foetus pose.
Once sworled to shell, 
wrapped inside myself,
Safe.
Now boned to carcass stick.

I wanted to hold one more time,
my child, 
frightened the last air would puff to nought from its hollowed breast.
But my sparrow turned and smiled,
a grimace to crack open any gates of envisaged hell.
Macabre teeth, once glowing love and laughter to the skies,
Now pecked to ochre stalks.

The pitiful bird pained to move.
Mucous mouth clacked open wide
To receive some lasting morsel of life.
Only its beady blue gaze 
flashed a soul of its former self, 
eyes to haunt the sea.
I swallowed back my tide of tears,  
waves of memory flooding sands of life we’d shared,
from fledgling dawn cry to this,
the final nesting box.

I wanted to stuff this cot with down 
of a million eider.
To cosset and hold soft this scrawn, gnawed through. 
Pluck teal, goose, swan.
‘Who would have thought it would come to this?’ it croaked a laugh.
I matched smile with smile.
I held the tiny claw.
Desperate not to cling too much to pain, 
too much to past.

I wanted to wrap up this dying bird 
Limp, in my hanky.
White folded white, fold on fold.
Run through the streets
shouting at the world, at some unseen power.
NO. 
She’s mine. She’s safe. Take me. 
What cruelty did I do?  
What evil must be stuffed in this maternal breast
To hold this daughter dust in my arms?


Details | Free verse | |

Aurora Borealis

The sunrises like the aurora borealis this morning
With the morning star still glowing brightly
Crickets calling for their mates to come
Noise of man already begun

The air is cool with a crispness
Inviting one to stay on the porch
Taking in all God's awaking of the earth
A few whispy ink black clouds grace the sky

Breathing deeply enjoying the oxygen supplied
My body by God who created the earth
Birds begin to sing God's praises
One lone bird flying high in the darkness

He is just a shadow flying by
To grace my morning on the porch
He must be the early bird that gets the worm
There is a stillness but yet a can feel the air move

As the sun comes slowly up the morning star fades
Gradually disappearing from sight 
Yet it is still there its brillance hidden by the sun
Each tree shadow takes on a different shape

The colors in the sky constantly changes
Just like our lives, no matter how well planned
Life happens and changes occur for good or bad
With mountain top experiences or down in the valley

God is always there but sometimes
We walk off and leave him
He weeps as we turn our back to go
Thank you God for this time 

My time on the porch


Details | Verse | |

Pressing On

She watched the mountain intently
Like a bird who’s nestling of dwelling, complains
Yet, neither will move --
Reality blooms;
A surge of genius
Strikes the hollowed core ~
Worrisome thoughts she shan’t abide…

A mother’s love still strives,
Strong willed fledgling must now -- fly
Search to build, its -- own nest
-- Mother bird soars above the mountain -- mind at rest 






Comments:
An elder once said teach them well in the ways they must go… Like a hawk one must keep a 
watchful eye for they are still your prizes; you never know when they may come home to 
roost again... Or at least visit…
However, if they can't respect the home then its time 
For them to fly on their own...