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Best Bird Poems

Below are the all-time best Bird poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of bird poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Definition & Discussion of Bird Poems
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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Bird Poem | |

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 | Bird Poem | |

One Broken Monoku

gathered on the lawn at Sabbath's dawn -

                                          a chattering of starlings

Details | Bird Poem | |

I feel God's breath in nature

Irish sonnet


I feel Gods breath in nature

The birds are singing. Beautiful it be
The trees are swaying on the morning breeze
Oh how it fills me with such mystery
Oh my, how nature fills me with such ease
I love the flowers; love the birds, and trees
I feel Gods breath in everything that grows
Something it glows within the heart of me
A force of love so deep within me flows
When I’m with nature something in me knows
That God is good, how can this not be true
When birds sing out, I always feel his glow
The perfume of the flowers brings it too
Oh, nature, how she thrills me through, and through
Seems, God is there in everything I do

17 November 2014

Irish Sonnet
Obviously influenced by the English sonnet there ia also still a Celtic influece in making a link from stanza to stanza.. It still follows the three quaterns and a couplet pattern, but each stanza is linked to the next giving a rhyme pattern of;
a. b. a. b. . b. c. b. c. . c. d. c. d. .d.d.
Here is an example. It is written in 10 syllables throughout.

Details | Bird Poem | |

On this lovely morning

On this lovely morning

I sit here, this fine morning
And I feel I have to write
Just as the day is dawning
It gives me sweet delight
Black Cockatoos fly overhead
It's a lovely mystic morn
On this wondrous path I tread
A new day it is born.

The sun comes shining high above
The sky is mystic blue
It bathes the flowers with its love
They shine in every hue
As only love can fill my soul
The love for everything
The whole wide world it seems so whole
My heart begins to sing.

As birds they feed upon my lawn
Such pleasure I do feel
The mystery that comes with dawn
So tender and so real
I feel it to my deepest core
It mesmerises me
How I really do adore
Dawns lovely mystery.

15 October 2014


 









Details | Bird Poem | |

Haiku 69-About The Swan Lake

swan lake a feather falls silently

Details | Bird Poem | |

Musicians



Acronet

Musicians

My
Use of
Sweet music
Is to bring joy
Causing harmony
Into my heart to come
As my days are getting on
Nothing can be so beautiful
Sweet classics they gently touch my heart

Such sweet music touches my heart strings
Nothing makes my heart sing like this
As the birds sing each new day
I just ponder on life 
Causing bliss to come
in wondrous joy
Soothingly
Unto
Me

16 September 2014 @1633hrs 




*Acronet was created by Pat Simpson. It begins with a 9 letter title word. Use link above forum to select a word. It must be left justified and starts with each line with the letter in title. This means it starts with 1 syllable on line one and then on line two 2 syl, then line 3 3 syl, line 4 4 syl, line 5 5 syl, line 6 6 syllables, line 7 7 syl, line 8 8 syllables, and line line 9 syllables. Ok that was first verse...

Now you take the title again but use the letters backwards to begin each line first line is now 9 syllables, using the last letter in title, next line is 8 syllables using next to last letter in title, etc.. until on line 9 you end up with one syllalbe and the first letter of the title word.

There is no rhyme here and can be any subject. Good luck...

Details | Bird Poem | |

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 | Bird Poem | |

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 | Bird Poem | |

The Flight of Bebo

Bebo was a bird
who could not fly
He kept flapping his wings 
'cause he knew he must try

There were two other birds 
that were laughing at him
As he was jumping and flapping
up high on a limb

It must be so hard 
to be stuck in a tree
Said, those two silly birds
That were laughing at me

I do not like you
get out of my tree
Don't you have somewhere to go?
Don't you have somewhere to be?

Bebo then said
let me get back to my endeavor 
Or, I'll be stuck in this tree
forever and ever

He knows he's a bird
he eats worms and sings
He just needs a good breeze
to get under his wings

Bebo worked hard all week 
to get into the air
Then he started to cry
Yelling, this isn't fair

With tears down his cheeks
Bebo looked at the sky
He said, I know I'm a bird
so why can't I fly?

The wind then spoke out
and said, It's not how you try
You must climb to the top
You must get really high

Then open your wings
and face into me
I will help you find flight 
just get up there, you'll see

Bebo went to the top
of his lonely old tree
He opened his wings
and, waited to see

The wind then picked up
and, carried him high
Bebo was laughing with joy
'cause now he could fly

From that day on
Bebo was happy with flight 
He said goodbye to his tree
and, then he flew out of sight

Details | Bird Poem | |

Dancing Bird - with video link

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtpPcmLKRFU   Dancing Bird


Yesterday, I saw a shadow dart across my keyboard.
When I turned to look outside the window, 
I spied upon a sparrow playing in the sun.
He was dancing in dramatic fashion 
Across the shrubbery that was his home.
I could tell it was a male by his markings.
He was busy with his boasting, and proud.
No longer a fledge, he fluffed his feathers
To parade his prowess to all that might adore him. 
Then, he pivoted into a pirouette, and pranced
Most skillfully across the length of a branch
And launched himself into flight.  

Today, the sounds of birds cackling and chirping
Inside the shrubbery drew me to the window.
I could see three sparrows engaging in some fun and frolic.  
Perhaps it was some flirtatious mating ceremony. 
While most sparrows do look alike,
I’m sure that one of them was the dancing bird
I’d seen the day before.  I watched briefly and smiled,
Remembering my own courtship and rivals
Who would fancy my choice as their own.
I returned to the monitor and before I could begin 
My work, there was a loud thud upon the glass.
I gazed outside and there upon the ground was a small hawk
Clutching the dancer in his talons. 

Tomorrow, this bird will not dance.
He will not sing or court another.
And as sparrows are many,
I will no doubt find another to enjoy from this vantage.
I chide myself for failing to warn him of the danger.
I was too busy with my own enjoyment to notice.
Now, I close my eyes and reconstruct those moments
As I attempt to resurrect the dancing bird,
And preserve him....forever.

Details | Bird Poem | |

Whilst walking through the woods

Whilst walking through the woods one day
A crystal brook there, shone so gay
The sun was shining oh' so bright
As brook reflected all it's light

Buzzing insects all around
Oh' they made a delightful sound
Birds flew upwards to the sky
These parrots made a hue and cry

Carpet of flowers with lovely scent
It seemed this morn way heaven sent
The flowers opened to the sun
This walk for me was so much fun

Sheep bleated from far away
Oh it was such a lovely day

Details | Bird Poem | |

Wearying for you too

An answer to Frank L Stantons  'Wearyin' for you' as Robert Lindley requested.

Wearying for you too

I’m wearying for you as well
Each day is like some kind of Hell
I’m missing you with all my heart
I cannot stand us being apart
I want to be there, home with you
It seems like crying’s all I do

My love, I also feel this way
It gets worse from day to day
People pass me, and they look
They see I’m looing so forsook
They just don’t know how I love you
It seems like crying’s all I do.

I miss that chair, I really do
Sitting there, just me and you
With fire alight, heating the room
And you and I we seem to bloom
Oh Darling I’m so lonesome too
It seems like crying’s all I do

I take a walk in the city streets
I say hello to folk I meet
But there’s no life within my voice
I’m miserable I have no choice
Because my love, I’m missing you
It seems like crying’s all I do.

I go back home in the dark of night
And still I’m feeling far from bright
I go to bed, and try to sleep
As lonely night, it hears me weep
I lie awake the whole night through
It seems like crying’s all I do

The long night over, the dawn is here
It’s still the same, I miss you Dear
The birds they give no joy at all
This loneliness oh, it’s so cruel
I feel so down, I’m missing you
It seems that crying’s all I do.

I’m coming home, can’t take no more
My bags all packed, I’m out the door
I need to see your smile again
This loneliness drives me insane
I don’t want this I just need you
It seems that crying’s all I do

28 July 2014 @ 1230hrs.





Details | Bird Poem | |

Hummingbird

             Beating wings furiously fast. 
             Taking sips, long it won't last.

              A flash of color blink you won't see
              The Hummingbird fly up in the tree.

              Coming early summer, leaving late fall
              migrating for winter as this is her call.  

              We'll see her again when the flowers bloom.
              Leaving again before winter's gloom.

Details | Bird Poem | |

Sinister Encounter

Poe laid flowers on her grave
    His lost Lenore
    One he’d love forevermore 
    But doomed to see her nevermore

Storm clouds expelled true daylight
     Yet near her grave on a dead oak tree
     An ebony raven stared and seemed to agree
     “Nevermore,” the bird mocked, flying off with ironic glee

Clouds burst, pelting the cemetery with rain
     Back to his horse and carriage Poe ran
     Was Poe a pawn in this raven’s game plan
     An unhealthy racing of his heart began

Arriving home, Poe sought to forget
     But there was the red-eyed, sinister bird
     Perched on the pallid bust of Pallas, it said just one word
     “Nevermore,” was all Poe heard

Stealthily the bird had entered through an open window
     “Did God summon you to add to my grief?”
     Poe pleaded, “Will I ever find relief?”
     “Nevermore,” cried the demon, to Poe’s disbelief

Poe tried to rid his home of the tormenting invader
     “Fly away; take your word with you!”
     But the evil visitor would not bid adieu
     Its single word was malicious; Poe could not misconstrue

When rainfall ended, the raven flew to the windowsill
     “Be gone!” Poe screamed, his voice filled with hate
     It eyed him once more, leaving Poe in a crazed state
     But loving memories of Lenore it could not desecrate



*Written October 1, 2014

Details | Bird Poem | |

Autumn on my page


There is a wind ,  which sketched,
Without my knowledge,  the message;

Autumn had lying words,
On my page.

It was by way of red leaves,
The bird of passage,
Twirling in space,

I followed it of my glance
And its woven loops,
On the canvas of the sky.

I just transcribed,
What the wings,

Supported on the wind,
Said to me.

-
(translated from french )
--

C'est un vent qui traçait,
A mon insu,         le message  ;

L'automne avait couché les mots,
Sur ma page.

C'étaient en guise de feuilles rousses,
L'oiseau de passage,
Virevoltant dans l'espace,

Je l'ai suivi de mon regard,
Et de ses boucles tissées,
Sur la toile du ciel .

J'ai seulement retranscrit,
Ce que les ailes,

Appuyées sur le vent,
M'avaient dit.


Details | Bird Poem | |

A Springtime Song

Mother nature’s songs I cannot exceed 
Of the Whippoorwill out in open field
They partake of mother’s bliss free of greed
Birds and their songs give of mother’s free will

Meadowlark songs of many are preferred 
Though Scissortail flycatchers slice thin air
I favor Mocking bird of which I’ve heard
He sings all bird songs, I desire to sire

Mocking bird songs do surge with bird’s great urge 
Whip-her-Will, he sings at night on the hill
Of Mocking bird songs , be of which I splurge 
Awesome flight as dotted blades of windmill 

Nature,  birds and songs to springtime belongs
Nature’s spring refreshes men with bird songs 

First Contest: Sonnet Me
In honor of: Sara Kendrick
#1) abab, cdcd, efef, gg

Details | Bird Poem | |

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 | Bird Poem | |

Chicken Cot UFO

Chicken Cot UFO

It crossed the gloaming skies above the roofs,
in awe we followed then, its jazzy course;
mysterious would be the incensed spoofs
this ireful ship, upon us, would enforce.

Hmm..
..We said! Abominable was the ship
that traced its gaudy eights in air with hum;
predestined to avenge our ego trip,
atrocious poulets, would not succumb.

The chicken soldiers were a frightful troop
in pink-pistachio uniforms with spots,
that insolent, bombarded us with moop,
to hit our heads that were devoid of thoughts.

In order to placate the chicken troop,
some started to recite their verse to skies;
confronting that attacking chicken group,
- bird poems they opposed to battle cries.

The angry war-birds listened to the verse,
that was composed by stunned, exposed confreres,
their cackle was bemocking and adverse,
- upon their heads they wore rouge voluperes.

This myth reflected what would happen if
extraterrestrial cots invaded Earth,
relentless chicken-birds in martial tiff
would moop upon some artists of top worth.

© 12/11/2013, G. Venetopoulos

moop = Matter Out Of Place

Details | Bird Poem | |

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 | Bird Poem | |

Night Bird

Did you hear the night bird call
as Summer tumbled into Fall
and leaves piled up against the wall,
it's then you miss her most of all.

Did you hear the night bird sing
as Winter tumbled into Spring
though flowers bloom, no joy they bring,
her absence colors everything.

Did you hear the night bird cry
as endless seasons tumbled by,
unanswered still, the reason why
she left you here alone to die.

Did you hear the night bird's song
as time forever tumbled on,
memories, the grief prolong,
without her everything is wrong.

Details | Bird Poem | |

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 | Bird Poem | |

- So Quiet Small Angels -


     I find myself whispering 

     On my bird feeders small winter bird are eating

     They enjoy present meal in peace

     So beautiful they are

     Their chest in yellow, orange and green

     Tiny, tiny feet and hungry stomach

     They do not think about Christmas rush

     A little song of the wind crossing the plains

     I just spend some time in silence listening

     to a song from my small angels




      
     12.12.2014
     A-L Andresen :)

Details | Bird Poem | |

Captive Bird - 12 Bars 12 Dreams

12 BARS Twelve rusty bars, one frozen lock – Confined, sublime, an ancient Roc, Enclosed inside a barren cage – Her catacomb in sundown sage. Of former days there is no trace Except displays of fallen grace – Twelve dreams, abiding in her place, Are free and dwell in yawning space: 12 DREAMS Of wings unfurled, and seething eyes That dredge the depths of dawning skies Unclamping clouds that hang below, Once ice, dissolved in morning’s glow; Of clutching winds that carry free Beyond a leaden anguished sea Dispersing dust of stifled stars Midst chunks of chain in slave bazaars; Of swooping to a silent shore, To perch beyond the ocean’s roar Amazed to feel the sobbing breeze Message the leaves of rooted trees; Of stalking trails of twilight tramps, Within the fog of lighthouse lamps That blink forlorn through caldron nights, In search of shades of errant Kites; Of darkling vast deserted lands, The windswept stones, the shadowed sands, Where ghosts of Moorish maidens lost Conceal their groans in mourning frost; Of blotting out the bloated moon While feathers beat a banshee tune And glimmers dance and prance aglow Upon a pearly pale plateau; Of tasting cool torrential rains, Beyond the realm of binding chains, And sipping freedom they exude In quite drops of solitude; Of whisking off a galley crew Aboard a ship in midnight dew, Beneath the pierce of seagull’s screams That mock the strands of scarlet streams; Of sating once an aching craw With tearing beak, with ripping claw And echoed by an eldritch screech While feasting on abandoned beach; Of restive thoughts and weary wings That drift on haze and smoky rings Obscured within the opal shroud Of her resemblance in the crowd; Of croaking caws in broken rhyme Of winter woe, of summer clime, Of building nests of sundown sage Beyond outside a barren cage.

Details | Bird Poem | |

Ripe Mangos

Ripe Mangos
overripe mangos falling from a pregnant tree- worms ready for feast

Details | Bird Poem | |

In praise of God

In praise of God

God, I’ve read about you
In all the holy books
I have read the Bible
In the Gita I have looked
I’ve perused through the Ti te ching
In all, I see what’s true
So here I am with many praises
All written just for you.

I write with sweet sincerity
When I praise you for these words
I praise you for the flowers
I praise you for the birds
I praise you for the lakes, and rivers
And the oceans too
I praise you, praise you, praise you!!!
For everything you do.

I cannot follow words, just words
But I can look at life
And see all that is beautiful
And when my time is rife
I know I will be with you
Just like I am today
Oh God, with sweet sincerity
These words of praise I say

4 October 2014