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Bird Holiday Poems | Bird Poems About Holiday

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

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Details | Light Poetry | |

The Bird is the Word

I don’t know what I’m complaining about, it’s not like I’ve been cuffed, All I have to do is show up for dinner. After all it’s the bird that got stuffed. It’s not like they’re asking a lot from me they won’t work me till I’ve croaked, All I have to do is show up and eat. After all it’s the bird that got smoked. I can’t tell you that they’ll torture me and it seems to be reasonably priced, All I have to do is visit for a while. After all it’s the bird that got sliced. I could tell them things to make them laugh until their gravy becomes splattered, All I’d have to do is tell a joke to them. After all it’s the bird that got plattered. I think that it smells good enough that I’ll eat until they claim my leg’s been hollowed, All I have to do is not complain about things. After all it’s the bird that got swallowed. I’ve never given it much thought before but a bird’s life is really kind of murky I guess I’d rather be the Thanksgiving guest today than be the Thanksgiving Turkey.

Copyright © Tony Lane

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Paying the High Price of Gas

I feel a blockage has occurred...
It must have been all that stuffing and Turkey bird...
The gurgles, the rumbling, the passing of gas...
It’s beyond my control ,Oh dear, please let this pass...
We have guests you see...
So I don’t have the privilege to just get up and flee...
No one should ever be in this state...
And I should never have put so much on my plate... 
Cause now I’m paying and to my demise ...
The rite of passage has been denied...
I feel like I may blow up and explode...
It’s times like this when you miss the commode...

Copyright © kj force

Details | Free verse | |

Seasonal Walks in the Park

 baseball, bird, change, childhood, games, holiday, lost,

“Seasonal Walks in the Park!”

A walk in the park after a springtime morning rainfall 
Is to hear the droplets fall from bent branches overhead
That can shock and moisten one’s brow walking below
And make note on the many water stains spotting the lanes

The grasses have turned into rich shiny green blades
Water drops remaining give individual blades sparkle
And soon the lawns will need to be mowed often 
And made and kept ready for park picnics and games 

The dissolving clouds open gaps for sun rays piercings
Adding sunbeam warmth  down on upturned faces 
The sun-warm breezes will temp visitors to carry their coats
And others perhaps persuaded in removing their shoes and socks

Some will have their feet dampened on the grass from droplets of dew 
As they venture and tread about the newly showered lawns  
The blades of grass will squeak when running shoes tramp through 
And if recently cut than grass blades will stick between bared toes

Spring’s love potion is inhaled and felt by all touring about 
Seasoning desires for familiarity towards the fairer sex 
From past haunts of pleasantly spent park delights 
Where wooing couples will be affected to a time stand still 

The early morning rainbow has faded and day’s clear skies are imminent 
The air fresh from receding mists mingle heavenly and tweak the nose
Dew worms break through and inch their way along above ground
Turning out from under the now soft rain moistened soil

This stirs the well-known smell of earth worms movements 
And birds sing out invitations  for all to join in this feed
Mother birds will return and hungry hatchlings will have first kills
And fathers will be released then of their nest guard duties for this share

All daytime and nighttime visitors will become love-struck
In their search for springtime’s romancing love calls to one another
The park comes awake to the frenzy and welcomes young and old
To meet, greet, and form new and old friendships offered all around 

The park's excitement is truly felt when a love-knot becomes first tied 
Crawling babies born from previous spring time passions will be noted
 They will learn the high-step toddle soon enough bringing them to romp
Once they have experienced that first feel of having to crawl on prickly grass

Young voices are heard mingling along with loud hand claps 
All friendly ‘high-fives’ are brandied about within the new met groups 
This is an all- time game ritual passed between friendships bonding
All this showmanship will form new team players for ball-park games

The ice-rink’s wooden forms are being removed and taken away for another year
Memories of skating parties last held are brought to surface 
The recall of being half frozen and then thawed 
When invited to sip a mug of hot chocolate steaming and full-bodied

A freshly painted baseball diamond will replace the rink area now
This ball field will bring many ball park players to home-plate
While proving to others they are ‘out of bounds’ 
Their devotion to play after school and during holidays is well kept

The flapping and snapping of new kites sound overhead 
Straining their ties against the cruel breezes putting them down
Watchers walking about are made to feel free 
The breezes jostle skirt and pant legs to tease about

Children are held clasped in grown-up hands  to hold them fast 
Their first walk about in the park has been a long time put on hold
Even the elderly are childlike and have a bounce given to their step
Walking around the park’s perimeter evolves a lifetime’s returning event

A seasonal change brings about new and different facades to the parkland
And they never fail to have a special allure to draw all outdoors
No matter what the weather call that day or night will bring
Walkers are in want of fresh-air walks found in the park grounds

And dogs always have to reacquaint themselves to the lay of the parkland 
Their bones need burying for great hunts in all seasons to become lost and found
They love to leave their markings on pure white snow banks as calling cards 
The park sees all and sees to all that visit and never will tell tales of any kind!

Copyright © Diane M Quinlan

Details | Rhyme | |

Leggy Bird and a Vintage Wine

What i love
About Christmas time
Is a leggy bird
And a vintage wine

With succulent breasts
And a figure so tanned
When i wash my hands
She'll soon be manned

She's the type of bird
Who leaves me well fed
With a glass of wine
I'm ready for bed

But this little bird
Can sure last longer
For she double serves
And my hungry heart grows fonder

At my table she sits
In anticipation
As my hands delight
She has my admiration

This delicious bird on Christmas Day
Is natures Turkey, a delight I'll say
And just before we sit down to eat
We are incredibly thank full, for such a treat

My entry for Donna Golden's contest " Turkey Tribute "

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Quatrain | |

Ode to the Bird

King of countless holiday tables
The turkey so golden brown.
His reign in short but succulent,
Proudly wearing his cranberry crown.

Not given human knowledge
He has no conscious fear.
Of life cut short by celebrations
On these days we hold so dear.

Now sit down with full appreciation
For a simple bird that gave his all,
And hope that he had time to procreate
So next year..more turkeys in the fall.

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick

Details | Free verse | |

A Viking, Thanksgiving, Unwanted Guests

He raises his charmed-horn frost-cup                                                                               filled to the brim with warrior-sweat of a thousands fallen wineberry                                        Hail to the spoils and plunder                                                                                                                                         Hail to burning friends and Thor’s thunder                                                                                      To ravens who gather the ones in wonder                                                                         Eric’s the reds white-headed swan of blood and blood-bearded-gobbler                                     may one give us free in all are Things                                                                                         and in our bowls meats of thanks-giving                                                                                                   Carving the turkey with his sharp-rail-of beheading                                                                                whacking a leg and then the other                                                                                                                                              small talk and etiquette flew out the proverbial minds-eye                                                   But uncle Bob fit right in chasing his wine with gin

Copyright © John Beam