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Bird Mother Poems | Bird Poems About Mother

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

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Details | Verse | |

The Young Gardener

She is learning young
Pure genteel pleasures of a garden
Amid the fragrant roses and towering lupines
That give the winter pardon.
Sweet feminine echo of her beautiful mother
She holds up her watering can
a tiny version of the other.

Now she mimics to perfection
The sprinkling of flowers 
as she giggles with delight
At birds in secret bowers.

She can't wait for the 'morrow
Her duties to employ
She is mother's little helper
And Daddy's little joy

For	Isaiah Zerbst -Gordon Dunlop Leslie Contest

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney

Details | Personification | |

I am a Swallow

Turning and dipping in graceful, acrobatic flight,
my spirit soars against a sky brilliantly blue;
from these heights, I view life in its completeness,
its complex boundaries and limitations sharply defined.
I maintain my composure, calm and unruffled by the storms . . .
I sail above the strife where the sun spreads warmth upon my wings.

From this lofty perspective, I watch over my dearest ones.
This clear air provides treasures of wisdom, beauties like the facets of precious jewels,
sparkling with the vibrance that makes joy complete;
I glean and feed them to my little ones,  giving them nutrients to enrich their minds.

Home is my central focus. 
I learn and implement all that I can to make my nest comfortable and complete,
a rich environment for growth. 

Do not intrude; I protect what is mine.

© May 11, 2015, Faye Lanham Gibson

I am a swallow--protection, warmth, home, proper perspective.

Copyright © Faye Gibson

Details | Couplet | |


Stork flights in unison                                                                                                                                               To teach unity to every person

Holding the neck extended                                                                                                                              Aligning the body as if amended

With legs pushed behind                                                                                                                            To cope with blowing wind

With wide wingspan like the glider                                                                                                                         In a well-defined order

Hover with one, as leader                                                                                                                                        Of course, watching is a wonder

With the flame of foresight,                                                                                                                                     Stork sets own nest on height 

Bears young ones into the wing                                                                                              Benevolently while growing

With wings, provides shade to the young chick                                                                                                                    So that they could learn to pick

Causes to clatter to communicate                                                                                                                 About the impending threat, to indicate

Maintains link with the group                                                                                                                    To get the team spirit, recoup

Revisits the old-aged-mother                                                                                                                                 To attend to issues that may bother

Cares the mother, with fresh feed                                                                                                                           As the mother may need

Stork is a bird of highest spirituality          
In Hebrew, stork means love and loyalty!   
Above poem is from “EAGLE EDUCATES ENDURANCE! AND OTHER POEMS ON NATURE ” by Shri.V.Muthumanickam.


Details | Free verse | |

The Fledgling

A fledgling crow huddled in
the grass beneath the drooling
gazes of my curious dogs.
Its eyes were blue.

And in the tree, its mother screamed

In my hands it lay, gently confused.
Too young to fear me,
it opened its thirsty beak and greedily
swallowed water from a syringe.

And outside the window, its mother screamed. 

I scratched its head,
stroked its breast,
and boxed it for its journey
to a refuge for homeless birds.
And, as I carried it to the car,
its mother circled overhead.

And screamed. 

Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman

Details | Verse | |

Birds Of The Same Feather Flock Together

Birds of the same feather always flock together

A fool fools those who can be fooled
A thief roams the streets with his fellow thieves
The miserable saddens those who allow themselves to be miserable
The naive are played by those who are naive of karma
The materialism catches those who are materialistic
The disrespectful hurt those who have no self respect
The aggressively insecure intimidate those who are submissively insecure
The fake trick those who are inexperience of faking
The dumb roll with the most dumbest

If you are either happy, successful, humble, educated or anything positive; make sure you flock with the feather that's most positive and important to you. 

KNOW YOUR WORTH; You cannot exchange gold for stones, that's making a foolish loss. Positivity is always an addition(+)  not a subtraction (-).  If you are subtracting, don't be suprised if your life turns out to be mostly negative.

IMPATIENCE is the mother of all COMPROMISE, that's why people flock with the wrong people, don't let it catch you..

THE EYEZ are easily fooled, all that glitters isn't gold (things can be gold plated too), so carefully check things. As They say "FOOLS RUSH IN WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD."

NOTHING IS CONSTANT; Money comes and goes, the famous become infamous, friendships ends, beauty fades, people pass away etc. Do not rely on external things to make you happy, once they are gone you will awaken from your dream. Internal happiness is constant; the externall should just make you happiER. Humble yourself and know reality.

INEXPERIENCE is the mother of all REGRET. Life is a journey of experience, never make the same mistake twice. At best surround yourself with the most wise (listen and consider their counsel) so not to make mistakes at all.

THE GUT INSTINCT, if it doesn't feel right it probably isn't. You have either compromised too much for to little or you are blinded or you put ur happiness on external forces which are not constant or you are inexperienced in the ways of life.

ITS ALL IN THE MIND, remember to CONTROL IT, TRAIN IT and to ACT IT OUT and watch yourself rise to a different level in your life.

WAKE UP; a bird who flocks with the wrong birds wakes up sooner than later and flies to his kind of feather.

THE MESSAGE; a bird that flocks to you with patience, sincerity, passion and unconditional love is definitely for keeps because they are  worth more than gold.

Written 24/02/2012

Copyright © Hussein Farah

Details | Elegy | |

My Chick

You’re skin and bones, chick.
Compassion commands me stop, 
stare, on my path, where you sleep.
I see dryness, hear stillness, feel silence.

You’re skin and bones, chick.
Were your chirps for worms
silenced in unsound Mother’s ears?
Your wings, too weak,
too still, on your first, failed, flight?
Your plume-less limbs
Coverless in cold night?

Uncovered corpse, bony chick.
No shore water to wash away
your undug green grave
in a low, lonely juniper.
My eyes wash me in salt water.

I have a path; yours ends here
your bones sinking, my brain soaring.	
Which frightened robin, fleeing my footsteps,
was your  misguided mother? So unlike mine, 
who saw her child, underfed, and said,
“You’re skin and bones, my chick.”

Copyright © Alexandra Romanyshyn

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Mother Bird

Upon the highest branch, glistened with dew, 
Of the strongest oak in a forest, dense, 
There rests a songbird of divine essence, 
With a song as soothing, found far and few. 

Beneath her tough wing, hidden warm and close, 
A little fledgling rests his weary beak; 
Bruised from his flying, too close to the peak, 
But sheltered by she who does love him most. 

And that little fledgling, high in the trees, 
So sweetly guarded close by his true nurse, 
May seek a small feed from her beak or purse, 
But furthest too fly, he is last to leave. 

Though he burned and tarnished his silken wings, 
From ambitions flown to close to the sun, 
Across the world's oceans that bird would come, 
With the loving song his mother bird sings. 

Copyright © Darren Mallett

Details | Haiku | |

Haiku 5 - mournful cries, way of nature, flight into eternity

mournful cries fill the air
mother bird calling for its baby
eaten by the cat

mantis catches butterfly
I am sad: yet, that is 
the way of nature

loud feathered thud
- flight into eternity
deceptive glass pane

Copyright © john beharry

Details | Free verse | |

Womb Of A Bird

...and how lovely 
to sleep in the womb 
of a bird

that caresses 
silk like skin 
and sense

all things 
are being taken care of

as sugar coated thoughts 
begin to traverse
the twilight sky

of a summer night 
when misty mist comes, sounding
on your jovial, pink lips 

Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago

Details | Ballad | |

Upon a Bed of Petals

On a pile of fragrant petals,
I found a small bird nest.
It had fallen from the plum tree 
And settled there to rest.

The blue eggs were all unbroken,
Petals had softened fall.
Mother bird was loudly chirping,
Hovering over all.

I dared not touch the fallen nest
To leave a human smell.
I merely looked into its depths
To see that all was well.

Pushing bright petals around it
To hide it from plain view,
I gave a wave to mother bird
And said, “It’s up to you.”

I did not chance that way again
For a full month or more. 
I stopped to check upon the nest
That had been there before.

The eggs were gone, the fallen nest
Was lying all askew.
I worried that bad had happened
To the small eggs of blue.

And then I heard a happy sound
And spied the mother bird.
A message passed from her to me
Without a single word.

I took her song as a thank you
For my feeble attempt
To guard her nest from predators
Who’d treat it with contempt.

There were four balls of downy fluff
On the branch right by her side.
I stopped to admire her little brood,
Then went on with my ride.

Copyright © Joyce Johnson

Details | Verse | |


Across the scarlet sunset  , 
I see a little sea-bird.
Pretending to be strong ,
Actually its making a feeble cry.
Flapping wings again and again,
Its afraid and not giving a try.
The great sky and the vast sea , 
Is making its throat dry.
Everybody came to boost it up ,
Finally mother came with a  fishful cup.
In the name of God ,
The little one jumped.
With eyes closed and heart thumped.
And  wow , its magic , 
Its faith and love.
That made it fly ,
Above the sea and across the sky.

Copyright © Archana Garg

Details | Free verse | |

A Mother's Job

She built her nest of straw and mud,
anchored to the rocks on our entryway.
Through the glass in the front door,
we watched her as she sat up there

on her eggs, allowing babies to grow.
After they hatched, she hovered close,
quarreling at us for coming too near.
She sat motionless on the nest at night,

covering them for hours with her body,
warming with the spread of her wings.
I think she liked that nesting part best;
daylight brought endless hours of work,

bringing worms for wide, hungry mouths 
and guarding nearby to keep danger at bay.
Then came the task of teaching them to fly;
an enormous effort for such a tiny mother.

We watched them grow too big for the nest,
crowding so their feathery butts hung over
the edge, their droppings cascading down
over the rocks, onto the porch below.

One morning's surprise brought a view
of an empty nest; the babies had flown.
Mother bird returned to begin once more.*
Amazed to see her back on the nest,

we opened the bird book to find her,
this Eastern Phoebe, who has found
home in Missouri, returning each year 
to grace our mornings with sweet calls.

*Note: Our task was to suffer the obstacle course of a ladder, extension 
cord, and a continuous fan on the front porch to keep baby birds from
smothering in the heat, plus scrubbing the crud off the porch floor. The 
first two broods were okay, but, in July, the third try was a killer.

Copyright © Cona Adams

Details | Lyric | |



                             The Apple PASTURE

Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.


Copyright © JAY JOHNSON

Details | Rhyme | |

The Open Road

On an open road through the driving rain
She drove fast and deadly like a hurricane
Sad yellow stripes in between white lines
Covered cold dead flowers and some valentines

Her baby grows and her mother cries
A painful evelution right before their eyes
She left him bleeding as the future glowed
From a dying past down the open road

She fights the lions as she curse it all
The men the drugs and the alcohol
The radio dj makes it all look good
With songs about love and of motherhood

She saw her future going down the drain
Her baby's tears feeds her growing pain
A blade in the night and the bad blood flowed
Down in the gutter on the open road

A big black bird at the top of the shelves
Judging what they all did to themselves
With fingernails growing like a raven's claw
She will never see what the big bird saw

Like the drugs of the dying like a martyr's faith
There was light in the dark but no open gate
She hunted the keys to the secret code
As she watched him fade on the open road

Copyright © Steinar Gismeroy Olafsen

Details | Rhyme | |

Free Bird

<                             "Hark" the Herald Angels begin to sing
                 "Jesus"patiently awaits so her children can say their last goodbyes
                       Cancer is the one thing she will not have to bring
                            For she earned her wings and is now free to fly 

Entry For 
Carolyn Devonshire's
 Perception Of Heaven's Contest
G.L. All

RIP Mama

Copyright © Katherine Stella

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
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
With his reputation,
there is no
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
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
With steps that are
light he glides to
the right, 	
he meets her, bows
deeply, head
Emulena says,
“Sorry, we cannot
stay longer, we all
must find paddocks
It matters not
whether we all stay
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
They follow her lead
in twos, and in
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

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
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
This egg will be
food for his hungry
but he won’t eat or
drink, ‘til they
Each day he looks
up, and turns his
head to the sun as
it rises each
He’ll sit day and
night until the
time’s right.
He knows, that time
comes without

to be continued...

Copyright © J Eliza JAMES

Details | Imagism | |

Soaring From Mother Bird

I stand in exit door,

Ready to be embraced by nothing,

Just that air waits with open arms,

So I jump into an unseen bosom.

Flying, she holds me gently,

Yet still lets me fall.

Plummeting to an earth I’ve walked on,

Ready to kill me now if silk wings don't open.

Then, a sweet nirvana enfolds this man,

I am gliding gracefully on a fierce wind.

This freedom it gives me I've never known,

Though I may die, doesn't matter in this instant.

Diving swiftly like an eagle,

To the soil where I was born.

I pull this cord that will save me,

My new lifeline which keeps me here.

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn

Copyright © Robert William Gruhn

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 
Nothing looked the same in 
those dewy browns of yours.
My everbeating would cry tears 
of joy.
The others-they were yet to 
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 
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 
My lovely bird and your big 
brown eyes
I'll tell you once, but never 
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 
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 
Escaping those terrible nights
To go for the town of delights. 

Copyright © Layla Elkoulily

Details | Rhyme | |

The Love Of Mother Nature

The Love Of Mother Nature

When that sun is shining down
Those pure white roses glowing
I feel the love of Mother Nature
Deep within my soul she’s flowing
The sweet song of a Willy wagtail
Such a lovely sound this be
It touches all of my heartstrings
Gives to me such ecstasy

Oh, the bliss here in this morning
It fills me to the core
I’ve seen the dawn arising
So many times before
Yet every day it’s special
Always a brand new tone
I worship it with heart, and soul
When sitting here alone

Every morning gets me high
No drugs are needed here
The song of a brand new morning
It sings out loud, and clear
The green leaves glisten cheerfully
‘My head is in the sky’
I live for this serenity
That does around me lie

18 October 2015

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Free verse | |

Spread Your Wings

I was told over and over when I was an innocent four years old,
"Spread your wings, child!" 
By the man I loved most, my Grandfather was inspirational.
He was the one that thought me how to read and write. 

My parents were never there for me, they were often tipsy,
Smashing the bottles upon the floor and sometimes upon me.
When this happened, my Grandfather was always there to heal my soul,
And he would always say "Spread your wings, child!" 

My parents were later found dead, overdosed on the latest drugs.
Even the cruelest people deserved sympathy, I thought as I cried.
They did bring me into this world, even if it was an accident, 
So I simply moved along with their memories. 

My Grandfather was a strong man as he battled a fierce war of cancer,
His last words were "Spread your wings, child...."
I screamed until my throat was sore, for I had no one else to love, no one,
Was this what the world had to offer a ten year old?

Now, a twelve year old, I have found a sweet family of my own,
A mother that could not have children and left lonely because of it, 
She smiled and held me tightly when I first saw her. 
Now I have someone to love. 

Now, we sing and dance, sit around reading "Oliver Twist," 
With her teasing me and telling me I look like the protagonist, it's true though, 
Sometimes on the warm summer nights, we'll watch the stars wink.
Now, I've spread my wings wide open! 

Everything I have told you is true :) How could I lie? That wouldn't be right! It's time you got to know me, this poem is my life, reader!
In memory of Oliver Kirkland, my dear Grandfather

Copyright © Oliver Lee

Details | Rhyme | |

The Culling

     The Culling

Happiness is a beautiful smiling word,
That soars the skies like a radiant black bird;
Culling ebony sheen downs from her sable breast
To fluff and cushion the crib of her protecting nest.

Murder and death are conjuring words too;
Sneaking around and stealing your children from you;
And though their bodies pile up in streets and on the bloody ground---
Like trees chopped down  when no one’s around,  justice hears no sound.

The long arch of justice has been bent backwards to times of old;
The streets have replaced the hanging tree and the noose by a bullet hole.
We now understand the strange fruits stories of which the ancestors once told;
One by one, our little sheep are being justifiably culled from the extended family fold.

While we cannot and must not substitute one tyranny for another,
We will and must protect the seeded child of every black mother.

Copyright © millard lowe

Details | Rhyme | |

The Love Of Mother Nature

The Love Of Mother Nature

When that sun is shining down
Those pure white roses glowing
I feel the love of Mother Nature
Deep within my soul she’s flowing
The sweet song of Willy wagtail
Such a lovely melody
It touches all my heartstrings
Gives to me such ecstasy

Oh, the bliss here in this morning
It fills me to the core
I’ve seen the dawn arising
So many times before
Yet every day it’s special
Always a brand new tone
I worship it with heart, and soul
When sitting here alone

Every morning gets me high
No drugs are needed here
The song of a brand new morning
It sings out loud, and clear
The green leaves glisten cheerfully
‘My head is in the sky’
I live for this serenity
That does around me lie

18 October 2015

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Elegy | |


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,
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.
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?

Copyright © Laura Payne

Details | Verse | |


My mother use to tell me a story about living in the woods.
She said during autumn the leaves fell to the grounds and they burn very good.
Her siblings and she would go hunting in the month of October.
The family would store the deer and rabbit meat not to go to the store.
Nature was harsh when it was cold.

When the snow or the freezing rain comes, the birds do not soar in the sky.
The ether would freeze the fouls.
The upper arctic is rigid air.
The birds fly south.

Nature in the winter can bring struggle and strife.
The beauty of the outside can affect life.
Save your money and do not fly high.
You are gambling your stability of sound body and mind.
Bitter Mother Nature is not to be denied.

The beauty of nature and winter signals an end of a productive year.
Plants cessation is seen.
Farmers have harvest crop.
Animals migrate to warmer climates.
All know Mother Nature in her mood swings.
Therefore, pay attention to your surroundings.

Respect Mother Nature and she will respect you.
However, the weather is onset.
The quiet weather sneaks upon us.
Therefore, things can become quite turbulent defining a Bitter Mother Nature’s region.
Penned on May 20, 2014 12:30 A.M. EST!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker

Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Blessings from Mother Nature

When my head had failed to sooth my heart

Common sense could not be found

Mother Nature hurled her cape of sustenance

In Her beauty, love tumbled around


When darkness from an impaired heart

Cast a spell my way with a leer

Love whispered “quick surround yourself”

A blanket of green earth appeared


When the thunder of my psyche clapped

Fleets of shame soon downward poured

Lighting strikes shook those within my breadth

No light came til the morn


Young spirits frolicked on my bed of green

Elapsed storm left a morning’s dew

Awakened with the sun’s bright rays of hope

A yellow bird settled on arms length bloom 


Comfort of innocence and beauty enchanted me

In silence I submerge my thoughts in natures play

I whisper to my heart “it will be just fine”

For in Nature’s light and love, I am blessed today.

Written by : Corrina

Copyright © Corrina Leblond

Details | Rhyme | |

The Rapture

Escaping from the patterns of my life
From crime and hate and inner strife
I visit a place that is pure and serene
Where i'm alone as a morning bird sings

I followed a path forged in stone
immersed in beauty, that nature owns
It is nature that owns the morning haze
That envelops the glory of this mystic maze

A labyrinth of answers to my dreams
this paradise is false,or so it seems
As the sun beamed its radiant light
i choose a place and did recite

I gasped at the trees and fertile soil
that inherit the flowers as my quill toiled
The flowers have blossomed this early spring
Akin to a babe, immaculate and pristine.

The scent of the air is not of smog and dirt
that blackens the white and decays the dirks
Yet that of a fragrant scent from the flowers 
that abides in memory to this very hour.

i heard patter from a creek a distance away
Gentle and calm it enraptured my stay
And to my eyes not a ripple shows
As i induced a wish then tossed a rose

Akin to a morrow, i saw my reflection
Hued in beauty of Mother Nature's protection
For all this beauty that envelops me
unfolds clearly for the world to see

And to the world like a perpetual fire
it flares and glows never to tire
prevailing past the wars hate and crime
the creek remains until the end of time
The morning bird wings again before me
Adieu Mother Nature I'll never defy thee
Yes! the bird of faith will lead the way
To some other secluded haven to  stay.

Copyright © anthony Pardi jr

Details | I do not know? | |

First Flight

The bird took off into the sky,
Spreading it's wings for flight. 
A gentle breeze eased it higher,
Yet further from the ground.
The mother bird gazed on intently,
Protective of it's young.

The bird was gaining height so fast,
It's mum now a mere dot.
The older birds flew up above, 
Swooping and diving for fun.

The bird looked down in anxious fear,
At the houses far below.
Never had it been so very high, 
That people looked so small.
To him they were now tiny blobs,
Not bigger than him any more.

The breeze around him suddenly ceased,
And the bird started drifting down.
The people below were no longer blobs,
And his mother was entering view.
As he was swooping back down to the nest,
He took one last glance above.
Still the older birds were playing, 
Not a single care in the world.
They hadn't to worry, they hadn't to work,
For they had already learnt to fly.

Copyright © Katherine Livingstone

Details | Haiku | |


Mother mockingbird
guarding your holly bush nest,
your baby’s calling.

Copyright © Jim Tidd

Details | Ballad | |


I cling to her
As mama has a hard
Time speaking 
But I still try to listen
To her motherly teachings.
I cling to her
As I walk beside her
As she now stepping so slow.
Because I never know.
I cling to her
While she get dressed
And help her fix her hair
Because the days she 
Feeling weak,
Her appearance she 
Still cares.
I cling to her
When I ask her about
Her day,
Even though mama sometime
Get her story's mixed up
And she can't remember
What to say.
I cling to her
As I take her to her doctor and 
says the words Heat failure
Oh Lord tell me what to do
What more can my mama go through.
I cling to her
Because now easily when 
She eatting she get choked
Mama has gone through
More than most.
I cling to her. By


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 

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...

Copyright © Adell Foster