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Bird Places Poems | Bird Poems About Places

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

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Details | Ballade | |

Fifteen tiny Swallows

Fifteen tiny swallows

Fifteen tiny swallows
All perched upon a fence
Oh what handsome fellows
But here, let me commence
To speak of all their beauty
These tiny little birds
All black and cream with a reddish throat
Oh how my heart they stirred

A lady walking with her dog
Disturbed these little guys
So from the fence these birds take wing
And head towards the skies
It seems that they are dancing
In the way they fly around
 They always seem to fly in circles 
And nearly touch the ground.

I walk around these wetlands
And wonder at it all
Everyday it’s something else
And it’s all so beautiful
Ducks and swallows, parrots too
And the beauty of the lake
I love to walk there most of all
At the coming of the daybreak.

16 August 2013 @ 1510hrs.




Details | Limerick | |

Limericks for Utah's State Flag and Bird

To their government Utah is true -
Not just state, but the federal too,
and so with great pride
they display on each side
of their flag the old Red, White and Blue.

Also famous for their industry,
Utah honors the cute bumble bee,
of which I now brag.
Center stage on their flag
is the hive of the bee….. naturally!

On Utah’s state flag is an eagle -
The symbol of peace, it is regal!
Pioneers, though, preferred,
a more interesting bird.
Why not on the flag is a seagull?

Most Utahans should know the story.
Long ago, crickets tried to destroy
the crops, till each gull
in Salt Lake ate them all!
That bald eagle has stolen gull’s glory!

Now a monument in Salt lake stands
for the sea gull, and isn’t it grand
that a bird that should be
living nearby the sea
is in love with a dry desert land!

Written by Andrea Dieitrich
July 22, 2015 for the contest of Judy Konos

NOTE:  Came back here to say it's Pioneer Day (July 24). Utah is the only state to celebrate it. I can hear fireworks outside my house!!


Details | Haiku | |

Peace of Nature

Peace of nature shows
how relaxing life can be
and can show you truth 


Details | Light Poetry | |

FLORIDA NATURE


Footprints drift on a wetland,
swiveling through pewter of morning
as contours of a stately heron  unfold
with plumes air-brushed by ripples;

and colors follow her along grasses
in lively strokes from a textured night,
to dip with Florida's studded garlands
while she, curling along a marsh

settles upon her tinted breast
in a lithe waltzing motion, that hikers
inhabit  this vignette of  quiet reverence
flowing in the  state of lush everglade. 



Rhonda Johnson- Saunders' Florida Nature
Inspiration from the painting' Majestic Pose'
3/13/2015


Details | Narrative | |

A TRAGEDY OF PRIDE hubris or BIRD BRAIN

                     A TRAGEDY OF PRIDE ( hubris)
                       

In the Arctic nights the jazz born North Lights sound
with a music of their own. Fair winds ferry fragile birds--
take to the skies in search of sympathetic warmth profound

while white breathless silence magnifies each sound as it is heard
and few venture forth, like bears they dash to find a haven
where they can hide until reluctantly the sun has stirred--

But, there is one jay bird who is not one of nature’s craven
creatures-- Waiting for a spring call from his mate, he hops into the hungry snow
to dance a dangerous dance in icy morning with the ravens.

There is a God flung magic that dashes high above the haughty human know
among the ancient secret kingdoms of the mystery sky--
And there it is that Wisdom’s Word is spread by wing and wayward winds that blow

their way in worldwide splendor and intricate magnificence that defies
the mind of man.  It is a truth that dalliance in vanity is inborn---
Man or bird, into the nature of some spirits-- it low lies

and becomes incited when grand fame or imagined glory has been shorn
by another .  And , so-- in Persia when the Prince of Peacocks heard
murmurs of the razzing ravens and the sassy sparrows high sky airborne

a proclamation that the World knew now there lived a peerless bird--
plucky-proud, surpassing the peacock -- Jay magnificent with a spirit daunting, a weight
of valiant blue in shades escaped of double rainbows, color-blurred

who bedazzled all nature’s eyes and winds of ear, that judiciously beheld each trait.
The peacock, no longer Highest Prince of Birds, screamed a terrible and cosmic sound
of jealousy.   Ignoring all the glory that still made him great--
the vain and foolish peacock fell-- stunned and breathless to the ground.




Victoria Anderson-Throop  2012 ©
Written in Juja, Kenya
Bird is Stellar Jay, common in Valdez, Alaska


Details | Choka | |

The Place

Do you know the place?  
   Beyond the stars where  tires fall from trees.
Do you know the place?
   The sky is blue but when it rains all you can see are the  clouds.
Do you know the place?
    Where clowns  juggle tree branches with balls.
Do you know the place?
      She picks Apple's from trees and eats them before the worms do.
There is a story once told about a bird who flew so high in the sky above the trees that 
he could touch the stars and dive so fast that he went through a tire hole,
 and landed on a clowns nose.  She missed the bird because she was too busy 
eating her apples with one worm in one apple.


Details | Verse | |

A Peaceful Place

A peaceful place where memories linger,
     linger through the grasses upon soft winds,
          winds that carry the nightingale as she sings,
                  sings a lullaby to the passed at restful sleep.






*Not an entry for Nette's contest, but it was inspired by visual #3 (cemetery)




Details | ABC | |

Grey Bird

On that cloudy weekend in June 
I hear a soft and graceful tune 
from the grey bird on the tree 
branch 
Singing sweet lullabies felt 
blessed in the moment 
My body tingles of joy at sight 
Gazing out through 
my open door,
Letting thoughts fly free
Releasing love out into the horizon 
Heart filled with emotion came 
over me 
Grey bird stood playing its tune 
for awhile and on the wings of 
letting go
Then as the rain fell from the 
sky the grey bird flew away 
gracefully 
I blew a kiss to the clouds and 
utterd these simple words of I 
Love You father ( who's now in 
heaven ) and yet I hope to hear 
that grey bird sing again once 
more for me 
Farewell, love your son

Poem contest for Debbie -referential


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 | |

The Bird Is The Word

<                   encircling mountain's crest... the mighty eagle .. soars

                     amidst wetlands standing erect the blue huron
                     toppling muskrat homes waiting for mice and shrews
                     colonies emerge shrub trees and lagoons to bond
                     butterflies flutter medows of greenish hues
                     snaphots taken afar this is all I could do

                     catails ~ sway ~ sounds ~  thunder
                     pheasants fly off in frenzy
                     braided and despaired
                     yet forges right on ahead
                     they live see another day

                     night ~ time's ~ calling ~ for ~ the ~ wise ~ old ~ owl
                     bidding feathered friends well ado's


A combination of Monoku, Quintain {English }
Tanka & Crystalline For
Constance LaFrance's For {Four } Beautiful Birds Contest
Written by Katherine Stella
5/8/2011  



                 
                     
                     
                               

                     

                     


Details | I do not know? | |

Early Morning in Walvis Bay

Hand in hand with the breaking pink light of dawn, 
A light east breeze dances on tiptoes upon the water’s surface. 
I stand on the wooden deck, looking out onto the quiet bay,
Scattered boats gently sway in their moorings.

Making me feel like I am flying amongst them - a bird on a wing,
Flocks of terns swoop and rise in graceful circles close beside me.
Dexterously stepping over the green covered rocks on the shore, three white egrets are here too;
They keenly pick out their breakfast in the lapping tide.

With a swoop and fall, a cormorant dives deftly into the water and disappears,
Moments later the bird emerges several metres away as if out of nowhere. 
In a display of alternating flashes of grey and brilliant white, 
Plovers so small and so swift turn and glide in controlled unison.

I glance northwards towards a distant gentle hum,
There great ships are silhouetted in the waking harbour.
I stand and breathe in true appreciation;
Oh, the magnificent beauty of this new day.


Details | Rhyme | |

Changing Places

Through a school window,
I watched a bird fly.
It landed on the window sill,
and we stared, eye to eye.

I thought, Oh little bird,
change places with me.
You study geography
and I will fly free.


Details | Lyric | |

In Greenhaven

Greenhaven.

I wake up in the morning with the sunlight on my face
As it glimmers through those Banksias
That thrive around this place
And it feels just like the country
Lots of trees and lots of space
In Greenhaven.

The shops are down the road a bit, but not too far away
And there’s a sense of freedom here, and everything’s okay
Oh! when that sun shines through those trees
At the break of a summers day
In Greenhaven

Greenhaven is the place for me
It lies just out of town
We have our beers and barbecues
When folk they come around
In Greenhaven

I love this happy home of mine
Where the sun shines through those trees
And the cockys scream as they fly above
So alive and wild and free
And I sit and play my old guitar
In this place just made for me
In Greenhaven.


Details | Couplet | |

JAIL BIRD

            JAIL BIRD

To U.S. born both wild and free
There is no worse place one could be
Than in a prison cell for years
For most men ‘tis a gruesome fear

But to souls in other lands
Where freedom’sjust a word that stands
On paper-- but an object dead--
With it you cannot bake your bread.

In movies in these lands they watch
Thugs whose pants fall off their crotch.
Who off to court they go-- then jail--
No mention made of tears or bail

Third Worlds watch the U.S. cells
That should resemble Dante’s hell.
Instead they look so germ free clean
Like the quarters of a Queen

Luxury in killer's cell?
How can thieves live-- oh so --well
U.S. jail is no bad life--
Well, you might miss someone's wife

As one boss of one small store
Told me-- as he scrubbed his floor:
“Me, I'll fly to U.S. land
Kill some guy and live so grand."

His tune said joke-- but it was not--
(U.S. TV makes brains rot)

But-- twas no secret-- truth could tell
He'd snuggle in Obama's cell.








Victoria Anderson-Throop ©               December 1, 2012


Details | Verse | |

Two Little Boys And One Tiny Bird

I am eight years old, my friend is ten,
the sky is billions and azure blue,
we are walking to St Bees and the beach, when,
suddenly a skylark soars piping his tune so true.
We watch and listen as the tiny bird,
in undulating flight trills his lovely song,
it is like nothing else that we have ever heard,
and he keeps singing for joy as we continue along
the narrow country lane down to the sea,
where all day we'll explore the rocky shore and weedy fronds,
knowing that there will doubtless be,
myriads of strange creatures in their salty ponds.

I am fifty seven, my friend is fifty nine,
his health is not so good, but he battles on,
myself, I am feeling mostly fine,
although the best years have now gone.
The sky is billions and a bit, and sometimes it is blue,
and as I drive along the still narrow lane
towards St Bees where skylarks once flew,
the only thing flying in the sky is a tiny silver plane,
and the only sounds come from engine noise, and BBC Radio Two.

Down on the beach the rocky pools and seaweed fronds,
all are clearly still there,
but there are not so many animals in their salty ponds,
did they just vanish into thin air?
Or is it perhaps that I can no longer see,
through these older, more tired eyes,
the same things I saw when I was young and free,
when with every day I would unwrap a new surprise?


Details | Free verse | |

My Walk

My walk in the woods I see one quick flittering, humming,

Standing tall ever vigilante a woodpecker begins.
Crown of red feathers builds excitement extreme.
Head jerking quickly looking bold without sins,
This bird has such power discovered in a dream.
Devastating wood in all forms, feasting it would seem.

Songwriters’ blue jays,
Dressed in colors that I see,
Family ties strong,
Flies so silent perched in song.
My relaxed moment is when.

An early bird upon first frost,
Flicking their tails, presenting orange chest,



Written for
Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~  
Contest Name For(Four)Beautiful Birds 


written by 
Cecil Hickman

written 05-19-2011


Details | Rhyme | |

La Cascata

It’s a small townhouse development in New Jersey. From the names of the streets, you would think you were in Italy. One section is called “Corte di Roma”. On the other side sits “Corte di Venezia” In the middle, there is a small lake and a glade. In Italian, the name of the place means “The Cascade”. “Il Paese di Anatre” should be this site’s true moniker. It seems there are so many ducks around each corner. Those mallards and their mates can easily be found. There are countless numbers of them roaming the ground. Why are there so many? There must be a good reason. For one thing, there is no such thing as a hunting season.


Details | Haiku | |

Little Bird

little bird sits on earth

branch seems small, wishes to fly

looks to sky for wings

 

(February 3, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved


Details | Sonnet | |

The Note

I was corner-stoned by many of you.
The note was dotted with a dash.
But this note was an ultimate smash.
I found a peephole and peeped through.
 
I found a bird gave him the note and away he flew,
Across the deserts and the valleys he was there in a flash,
Across the rivers and Oceans he made a great big splash.
He made it to the shore, but the note he began to chew.
 
He passed a timely test,
And his belly was full,
He did not stop to rest,
The note he had to pull.
 
The bird landed on the Oceans shore,
Singing praises of his rugged chore.