These Mother Bird poems are examples of Bird poems about Mother. These are the best examples of Mother Bird poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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
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.
BY HUSSEIN FARAH
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.
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.
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
It burns and it stings.
More than drowning beneath
More than remaining in a
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
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
Rampage and rage why did you
I began to wither and wither
slumping along. So very soon I-
the child of fines- became a
The droops of the Lily of the
Valley became the slumping of
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
Your intense spirt vanished only
to supplement a monster.
Mother, Monster and your tar
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
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.
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,
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?
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.
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.
She watched the mountain intently
Like a bird who’s nestling of dwelling, complains
Yet, neither will move --
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...