These Spring Bird poems are examples of Bird poems about Spring. These are the best examples of Spring Bird poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Walking by the river.
It was that kind of day
With the Spring Sun soft and warm
There was a kind of energy
That moved within my form
I could have walked the whole day long
As I felt me, natures pull
Oh Lord those river trails are beautiful.
I passed a group of roos
Who were grazing by the river
Some Parrots screeched above my head
And set my heart a quiver
And as those creatures gave their calls
A Kookaburra laughed
Oh how I love to walk that river path.
It was that kind of day
That you’d like to last for years
With the country air rich in my lungs
And my mind all calm and clear
I could have walked until I dropped
Along that river trail
Feeling good and living in the now.
16 September 2004
Willie wagtail wakes the morning
With his song outside my room
He tells me that the day is dawning
And sings away all shades of gloom.
Lovely bird, back black and shiny
With his belly creamy white
He sits there on a roof so finely
Giving my Soul sweet delight
‘Morning’s here’ his song is singing
Every note so loud and clear
As his song to me is bringing
A feeling oh, so sweet and dear.
26 August 2013 @ 0657hrs.
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB
This story is based partly on the Indian mythology and partly
on my imagination. The story theme is anger, which can destroy
even the entire Earth, but if controlled it can also be converted
into creative energy. The incident is from the mythology of Hindus,
which speaks, how Shiva the supreme God of Hindus started
one day his Tandava Nritya * or the Dance of destruction and
how it was controlled …..What was the cause of this anger would
be explained in the concluding part of this epic.
When the Earth was in danger 07
By then the new foliage of spring had began to smile,
on the branches of every tree,
All the buds of the flower plants had started blooming,
in that new swing of season,
Fragrance coming from the sandalwood forests,
was flowing in the air all around,
intoxicating everyone and everything,
All the insects, animals and birds,
which were not conscious about this sudden change of season,
Began to dance in sweet pleasure,
after tasting the intoxication flowing in the air. 25
Even the Koyal* started its sweet spring singing,
in her most melodious voice during that time,
which she had never sang before.
The peacock also started its most colorful and
The Rivers too began to flow with the most pleasing sound,
as if they were singing a song.
The sky had opened in those moments,
its fabulous treasures of alluring colors,
to charm the entire universe.
The Sun rays coming from behind the hovering colorful clouds
were spreading on the earth,
a magical scene which no one had ever witnessed on Earth.
Such was the grandeur and wind of attractions,
everywhere on the earth,
that even Gods too got completely lost,
what to say of human beings. 26
Embodiment of Shiva* the Neelkantha*
which use to fly often high and low in the air,
were today dancing like a Peacock,
while spreading their blue wings in the air.
What had happened to the Earth,
why everyone was lost in the realm of a different world.
All the inhabitants of Earth and even of the heaven,
were keeping a silence only with folded hands.
As they were either praying to Shiva or
were silently praying to their favorite Gods
to save the earth.
Kanpur India 07 h April 2011 to continue in 8
• Koyal = a singing bird of India like nightingale.
• Neelkanth* = Blue jay. A bird having blue throat. To see Neelkanth please open
Arise, you song birds sing in morning dew;
The flow’ry host to colour fields and furrows,
And sap of Spring runs gold in willows veins;
As tender leaves unfold to speak of birth,
Fresh mountain ranges iced give life anew—
While waters melt and stream through cricks and borrows
The gleams of light will melt the winter strains
Though spills of oil have quenched the songs of earth.
The corporate sting of greedful revenue,
Has bankrupt natural wonders—greedy farrows
The eagle has no pow’r to save her eggs,
Tall forests fall and crush the robin’s hue
When flow’ry petals change to black on yellow—
The spotted fawns arise with warbled legs
Spring is coming
Spring is coming
I can feel it in my blood
The days, it seems are warming up
And feelings like a flood
Come gushing through me like a river
Oh Lord, it’s almost spring
Oh what love is in my heart
What joy to me this brings
Hallelujah, it is coming
The birds are getting frisky
The canaries sing a lovely song
And the dog he runs so briskly
All around the garden
Seems he knows that spring is here
The fish are chasing all around
And the sky is blue and clear
No one understands it
This thing spring does to me
No one could ever feel it
So wonderful it be
But when I know the spring is here
It makes me feel so sweet
Twenty eight days away from now
Then the spring time we will greet.
2 August 2013 @ 1447hrs.
Elayne will reach the mountain spring
fresh water in the jug to pour,
the nightingales are there to sing,
untamed her feelings lonely soar.
She fills her heart with music notes,
her voice will cause the leaves to stir,
for lovers' pain sole antidotes
are songs of birds and nightly myrrh.
And as her lyrics rise to heav'n,
and render modes of the soft wind,
her palms caress his name engrav'n
on her betrothal golden ring.
He left her world and promised that
one Sunday they would meet in church;
a framed old shot of surface matte
and daily trails her glances search.
Elayne of springs, on rocks awaits,
and recreates her wedding feasts;
the wraiths around her dance with fates,
for eons play in cotton mists.
As one of them stares in her eyes,
she gropes her heart because she loves;
upon the rocks mentates she nice,
her golden ring and two white doves.
© Giorgio V., 07-22-2012
And now the weeping willow turns to green.
So brilliant red, the robin’s breast,
Just like the sun, now sinking in the West,
And down the lane more signs of spring are seen :
The spiky blackthorn blossom’s shining white –
It looks as if the hedgerow’s decked with snow.
Beneath, the peeping primrose seems to glow
With luminous and creamy lunar light.
Come hear the soaring skylark’s tuneful song
And listen to the jackdaw’s chimney chat.
See squabbling sparrows startled by the cat
As through the undergrowth he slinks along.
We mark these signs of Spring so early in the year,
But damage from late frosts may dash our hopes I fear.
The sun shone brightly at last
On this breezy spring day
A black cat stalked a yellow bird in play,
As he stepped lightly across the fields of grass
Alarmed , the bird flew
Leaving the cat with nothing to do
The sun shone brightly
on this breezy spring day
As the mouse appeared suddenly
through the field of grass
And once again the cat turned to play
It was a long walk, with time heeling at my shadow.
(and somewhere miles away the garage door closed, and the exhaust flowed,
and a small dog died in her limp arms)
I was friendly with God. Only with small trepidation did I drink from the sordid
chalice, minutes before, and decided that a walk, skip and a jump to nowhere is what I
needed the most. And so it was.
Block after block, stones in the pavement, the smell of creosote poles.
Delicate foil wrappers, industrial petals, She loves me not, she loves....
Sidetrack with backpack, it doesn't matter. I don't care.
I'll be there when I damn well find myself somewhere. Which is where
the trees grow bright, and the birds flit without flapping.
And the water forms misty and bejeweled, laying my mind out flat
like steam would fine linen. then I will sit and breath with an "e". You bet.
But first a small lap in a languid pool of solace, a tip toe through the forest afire with
colors borrowed from alien hands, a taste of spring time cum. Let me wallow.
God, friend, let me wallow in your mess of beauty, before I call it something.
Let me roll around like a goddamn dog. I want to itch and draw forth honey from my veins.
I want to suck sap bleeding from the tree, and dine on the lost sound of the whippoorwill.
God, let me die a small death of beauty, and be reborn in an orgasm of **** all get out!
No qualms. Buddy. I love your work. It looks like you ****ed yourself a good one.
And what came was all this edible goodness. Like Dali, I want to eat it. All.
Now, like I promised you, I'll give back. I'll play your hypnotic song
and sing to your soiled minions. I'll take heed in your loving whispers
and open up my heart for your midnight snack. I'll clean up your moonspill
and read to you that silly book of yours, the one about the golden rule
and those twelve dudes. (Sorry God, not my cup of tea).
Draw a bath for your daughters, and draw back the bow for your sons, and ready the bed for Venus.
Sit back and relax, ol buddy, I'll do the best that I can
then I'll grow tired
Oh. Now I can breathe. The song has left my lips for now.
I walked myself into a lovely stupor, and you showed me
the rainbow. And I raised your worms.
I played your song, God.
(I hope that somehow, she heard it over the din of engine and whimper of dog)
I played that timeless song, or you played me.
Either way, it's still the day
that the trees grew bright with sun
and the birds flew without flapping.