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Mystery Bird Poems | Bird Poems About Mystery

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

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Details | Quatrain |

Night Owl

Sitting by her open window,
Was a girl deep in thought,
Lost within a book of Poe,
A perfect poem she sought.

With a curious eye,
He watches her pen,
For she gives it a try,
Every now and then.

He will visit her forevermore,
In silent hours of midnight,
Casting his shadow on her floor,
Within the full moonlight.

Mysterious, nocturnal bird,
Calling out to darkened land,
Speaking such wise word,
Which I cannot understand.

I am lonely, I must confess,
It's just you, me and the moon,
You are much like me, I guess,
So, please sing me another tune.

A messenger of death,
Wailing songs of a banshee,
Has my grim reaper cometh,
Was this warning meant for me?

My soul was projected,
In the shadow of a fowl,
A raven I had expected,
Not the silhouette of an owl!


Details | Haibun |

Kindred Spirits

~(tanka haibun)~


    Awakened from my walking reverie by movement ahead, I spy a Red-Tailed Hawk perched upon the wrought-iron railing of the flood-wall. The hawk is regal, stoic beauty. I stop walking in hopes of urging the bird of prey to stay its perch. It does, filling me with a sense of relief. I wonder why it let me get so close; if it was my calm, thoughts-up-in-the-clouds, meditative stroll that somehow rendered my thoughts and steps silent enough to catch the bird unawares. We eye each other, a bitter gust of mid-winter wind blows against my face; ruffles the back-feathers of the hawk. I am overwhelmed by a sensation how the two of us know exactly what we are, who we are, what we are supposed to be doing overall, but we are presently caught in a moment of unknowns, letting these unknowns erase the lines that keep us separate -- beast from human. 
I take a step closer, causing the hawk to finally alight, and I am struck by its vibrant feathers adding a dash of colour to the surrounding monochromatic grays. 
The hawk flies only a short distance ahead before landing on the railing again, so we re-enact the scene of this play. I come closer, closer, closer, until the hawk lifts up, flies a bit further along the river-walk, before landing again, until eventually it probably decides, that indeed, this human is going to traverse the entire path, for the hawk flies up into trees located further ahead. As I walk past the trees, the hawk launches out of an evergreen, with twigs in its talons. The bird flies over the river; a river made tumultuous by ice-melt.

in Winter's gray light
a Red-Tailed Hawk paints the sky 
with its feathers,
my soul lifts, follows the bird
over an ice-gorged river

The hawk lands on the base of a church steeple, and disappears behind an ornately carved corner. It appears as if the steeple is attempting to pierce the snow-clouds with its tip, trying to tear gashes in the sky, until spring blue bleeds into gray. On this Tuesday afternoon, does the church seem personified because it is devoid of Sunday parishioners milling in and out of its thick wooden doors? No matter how hard the steeple tries to break-apart the clouds, the grand sky dwarfs the church, causing it to look like a toy model. The church fluctuates between looking like a miniature-scale model, and an architectural feat.

with defiance
the steeple pierces clouds
looming overhead -
the snow-laden clouds
make the church appear small

Passing the church, I find it ironic how today the church is empty inside, yet on its steeple and roof-lines, countless animals are nesting, making this House of God their sanctuary. Slowly making my way home, I ponder about the hawk, how it is not only a predator amongst prey, but a predator amongst predators -- it flies around in plain sight, yet also hides right in the middle of the city. Coming up to the path leading to the back-door of my home, I scan a small trail of footprints in the snow. The footprints vary, but all are familiar to me. 
It is at precisely this moment that I fully acknowledge the Red-Tailed Hawk and I to be kindred spirits; how similar we really are.

the path leading home
is a winding snowy trail
of few footprints,
for only my loved ones know
where I truly live



.


Details | Rhyme |

As river flows

As River flows.

As river flows so peacefully
I sit here just content to be
As Ravens fly so high above
This morning, it was made for love
It enters deep into my soul
It’s sweetness making me so whole
This softest morning mystery
Oh, how it reaches out to me

The trees, they dance so gracefully
They wave, and flow upon the breeze
Bird song drifts from happy branches
Oh lord, how this my heart enhances
Silence rules above all this
A kind of stillness filled with bliss
Captivates my very core
Oh, I’d not wish for any more.

The river peaceful, calm and still
So wonderful it makes me feel
As it reflects those dancing trees
I watch and let the morning breeze
Caress my skin so tenderly
Then all is gone, there’s only me
The emptiness of all that is
I’m sailing on the waves of bliss.

15 March 2014 @ 0705hrs.


Details | Rhyme |

Dead tree

Dead tree.

She stands there like she has for years
The life in her all gone
Once she wore a coat of green
And she'd be filled with song
As feathered friends of every kind
Would rest among her leaves
And as in life the same in death
Our tree will never grieve.

So all alone, she looks, this tree
All etched against black clouds
Although the life in her be gone
She stands there looking proud
And all her majesty is seen
By those with eyes to see
I take her picture once again
Try to catch her mystery

21 September 2013 @1920hrs.


Details | Ballade |

As night draws near

As night draws near

Gleaming in the silence
And the brightness of the sun
The trees beside the river
Are dancing, every one
Upon this cooling evening breeze
I’m lost in all of this
As river does reflect the all
My heart is filled with bliss.

Ravens flying overhead
They fill the silent air
With throaty caws, of loneliness
Their songs fills everywhere
With the breath of evening mystery
To herald the dusk in
As day does fade to darkness
The evening song begins.

I’m lost within the sweetness of
The dusks sweet, silent song
I think that it be in this darkness
That my soul does belong.

Bird songs come, then fade away
To be lost within the stillness
As darkness comes to fill the air
With the sweetness of it’s breath
In the depths of sweet serenity
The spirits come to play
And all the nymphs and fairy folk
Do dance the night away

31 October 2013 @ 0514hrs.


Details | Ballade |

Oh, what a feeling in me

Oh, what a feeling in me.

Oh, what a feeling in me
To be, on this wonderful day
I’m here on this beautiful morning
I’m alive in a beautiful way
I’m hearing these birds all around me
Just singing a love song for me
It’s a wonderful, beautiful morning
By this river that captivates me.

It be five o clock in the morning
In the joy of this beautiful day
The kookaburra how he be laughing
In such a magnificent way
I think that he knows I am happy
This bird he is laughing for me
Oh, here in this countryside morning
I am filled with such sweet mystery.

The river gets into my being
As I sit here alone in the dawn
It’s wonderful, beautiful feeling
I feel like I’m being reborn
Oh what a sweet combination
All this morning, and nature, and me
I’m in love on this wonderful morning
Just me and this sweet mystery.

26 January 2014 @ 1155hrs.


Details | Rhyme |

Looking at life

Looking at life

It’s beautiful
So many different hues
Of green, It kinds of knocks me out
There is not just a few
As I look among the many trees
How it amazes me
There’s light, and medium, soft and dark
So many hues I see.

It’s wonderful
It’s such a lovely show
There’s Butcher birds, and Ravens
Oh how it makes me glow
Parrots dressed in green and blue
Doves, and wagtails too
On velvet grass that’s feather soft
Neath sky so very blue.

Some folk they think of suicide
Have they not eyes at all?
Cannot they see loves magic? 
How life’s so beautiful
Wake up, wake up, and look at life
All those greens, and blues and yellows
Look at the birds and ask yourself
“Why are they such happy fellows”?

18 July 2014 @ 1240hrs.


Details | I do not know? |

Walking through the wetlands

This poem s in a style created by Christina R Jussaume


Walking through the wetlands

I’m walking through the wetland trails
The trees are soaking from the rain
I’m always here I’m back again
I’m walking through the wetland trails
The birds are singing in the trees
As feather leaves dance on the breeze
I feel the rain, I feel the rain.

I’m walking through the wetland trails
A kookaburra laugh’s out loud
The rain it forms a kind of shroud
I’m walking through the wetland trails
Two kangaroos go leaping past
The rain it seems has stopped at last
The bird laughs loud, the bird laughs loud.

I’m walking through the wetland trails
I feel around me chimes of love
Now sun shines softly from above
I’m walking through the wetland trails
I feel in nature all around
The breath of God that can be found
In chimes of love, in chimes of love

I feel Gods presence up above.

20 August 2014 0845hrs.


Details | Rhyme |

Raise your head

Raise your head

Raise your head up to the sky
And praise the power above
Give her all you have, my friends
For she gives you such love
She gave you all you see before you
She gave you ears to hear
The silence of a brand new morn
The bird song sweet and clear

Raise your head, pray to the power
No bargaining with her
Thank her with sincerity
That she your heart does stir
With all the beauty that you see
All around you on this morn
Thank her for the wonder of
This morning just been born.

Raise you head, and close your eyes
And let her grace come to you
Do this every single day
It’s the best thing you can do
For you have everything you need
To fill your heart with joy
For all the love she gives to you
There’s naught can this destroy.

23 July 2014 @ 1440hrs.


Details | Rhyme |

By the river

Holy Grail

By the river

Have you ever sat, by the riverside?
As it flows so endlessly to the sea
It always makes me feel so deified?
The river is the place I love to be
Have you seen the ducks gently passing by?
As sun shines softly at the break of dawn
Oh its sweet beauty no one can deny
How I love the sweetness of the morn
So much beauty I do see
Oh, how it makes my heart sing
I love the mystery
It does bring
Oh, so free
Lovey birds
Sing for me
Deliciously
I really love the river
Oh lord such joy it does deliver

15 September 2014 @ 0500hrs. 


Holy Grail is a form created by John Henson. 
Syllable count is 10,10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 9, 7, 7, 6, 3, 3, 3, 3, 4, 7, 9.
Rhyme is a, b, a, b, c, d, c, d, e, f, e, f, g, h, g, h, I, I.


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