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Suicide Bird Poems | Bird Poems About Suicide

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

Details | Rhyme |

SEA OF LOVE

Oh sea of love!
How bitter the mem'ries I have!
This place reminisce the pain
Of not seeing my love again.

Your birds up high
Remind me of his goodbye.
Your water so deep
Makes me yearn and weep.

So let your breeze blow,
And dry the tears that flow.
Let your waves take away
The griefs and sorrows that stay.

Oh sea of love!
Erase the mem'ries I have!
Wash them out of the blue,
Take them away with you.


Details | Lyric |

God help the foolish

God help the foolish

Everywhere I go
The trees grow oh, so tall
The birds, they whistle cheerily
It’s all so wonderful
This world is filled with beauty
To feast the eyes upon
God help us all when all of this is gone.

Some folk worship money
They have no other view
Short sighted is the way they look
They never see what’s true
Destroying untold beauty
For the power of owning all
They are killing everything that’s beautiful

God help the foolish
They know not what they do
They bring down forests to the ground
God help those crazy few
Where will they get their oxygen
When all the trees are gone
God help them with their foolish carry on.

A world without the beauty
Of trees, and birds, and flowers
Would crush one’s soul so heavily
Why do they need this power?
Oh, what’s the good of money
If this is all there be?
This planet dies, as I watch helplessly.


Details | Free verse |

Blood flows like Champaign on a Wedding Day

The poetry I write seems harsh
it seems sad and powerful,
sings songs and pslams to the sorrowful soul,
sung its song in the past of sorrow in all.

The poet's blood flows like champaign
on a wedding day of young couples in love.
Champaign that flows like rivers and streams
in the green plains of Mid West America,
and the poet writes about the land and the bird
that sings afar in a tall, old oak tree
thick at barch with experience and age.

The soul burns and cries out to be freed,
yet sits and reads poetry till the crack of dawn
in an old apartment house on the second floor,
and the rats run along the walls, and the cockroaches
in cerial boxes,
with shotgun in lape and cocked, ready to fire,
one in the chamber.
Whiskey in the lungs,
and whiskey on the ground,
in the hand
and upon the feet
of a sorrowful soul, filled with pain
and age, age full of tender love that never was discovered
by any naive soul.

One time the clock ticks and tocks,
echoes rings in an empty mind,
that echoes the sorrowed mind and tortures the pale soul.
One pull of the trigger,
and the sound of an explosion of faint silence
and a smile on a face of a dead man is shown in the light,
and watch the blood flow on the white pannel wall,
flowing like champaign on a beautiful wedding day.

Two weddings and a funeral...

-11-1-2013-