Poems About Flight, Flying and Birds Ii

Poems about Flight, Flying, and Birds Flying by Michael R. Burch I shall rise and try the bloody wings of thought ten thousand times before I fly... and then I'll sleep and waste ten thousand nights before I dream; but when at last... I soar the distant heights of undreamt skies where never hawks nor eagles dared to go, as I laugh among the meteors flashing by somewhere beyond the bluest earth-bound seas... if I'm not told I’m just a man, then I shall know just what I am. This is one of my early poems, written around age 16-17. Stage Craft-y by Michael R. Burch There once was a dromedary who befriended a crafty canary. Budgie said, "You can’t sing, but now, here’s the thing— just think of the tunes you can carry!" Clyde Lied! by Michael R. Burch There once was a mockingbird, Clyde, who bragged of his prowess, but lied. To his new wife he sighed, "When again, gentle bride?" "Nevermore!" bright-eyed Raven replied. Less Heroic Couplets: Murder Most Fowl! by Michael R. Burch “Murder most foul!” cried the mouse to the owl. “Friend, I’m no sinner; you’re merely my dinner!” the wise owl replied as the tasty snack died. Lance-Lot by Michael R. Burch Preposterous bird! Inelegant! Absurd! Until the great & mighty heron brandishes his fearsome sword. Delicacy by Michael R. Burch for all good mothers Your love is as delicate as a butterfly cleaning its wings, as soft as the predicate the hummingbird sings to itself, gently murmuring— “Fly! Fly! Fly!” Your love is the string soaring kites untie. Lone Wild Goose by Du Fu (712-770) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The abandoned goose refuses food and drink; he cries querulously for his companions. Who feels kinship for that strange wraith as he vanishes eerily into the heavens? You watch it as it disappears; its plaintive calls cut through you. The indignant crows ignore you both: the bickering, bantering multitudes. The Red Cockatoo by Po Chu-I (772-846) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A marvelous gift from Annam— a red cockatoo, bright as peach blossom, fluent in men's language. So they did what they always do to the erudite and eloquent: they created a thick-barred cage and shut it up. The Migrant Songbird Li Qingzhao aka Li Ching-chao (c. 1084-1155) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The migrant songbird on the nearby yew brings tears to my eyes with her melodious trills; this fresh downpour reminds me of similar spills: another spring gone, and still no word from you... Untitled Translations Whistle on, twilight whippoorwill, solemn evangelist of loneliness —Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The sea darkening, the voices of the wild ducks: my mysterious companions! —Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Lightning shatters the darkness— the night heron's shriek —Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch This snowy morning: cries of the crow I despise (ah, but so beautiful!) —Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch A crow settles on a leafless branch: autumn nightfall. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Hush, cawing crows; what rackets you make! Heaven's indignant messengers, you remind me of wordsmiths! —O no Yasumaro, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Higher than a skylark, resting on the breast of heaven: this mountain pass. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch An exciting struggle with such a sad ending: cormorant fishing. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Does my soul abide in heaven, or hell? Only the sea gull in his high, lonely circuits, may tell. —Glaucus, translation by Michael R. Burch The eagle sees farther from its greater height— our ancestors’ wisdom —Michael R. Burch, original haiku A kite floats at the same place in the sky where yesterday it floated... —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Ultimate Sunset by Michael R. Burch for my father, Paul Ray Burch, Jr. he now faces the Ultimate Sunset, his body like the leaves that fray as they dry, shedding their vital fluids (who knows why?) till they’ve become even lighter than the covering sky, ready to fly... Free Fall by Michael R. Burch for my father, Paul Ray Burch, Jr. I see the longing for departure gleam in his still-keen eye, and I understand his desire to test this last wind, like those late autumn leaves with nothing left to cling to... The Folly of Wisdom by Michael R. Burch She is wise in the way that children are wise, looking at me with such knowing, grave eyes I must bend down to her to understand. But she only smiles, and takes my hand. We are walking somewhere that her feet know to go, so I smile, and I follow... And the years are dark creatures concealed in bright leaves that flutter above us, and what she believes— I can almost remember—goes something like this: the prince is a horned toad, awaiting her kiss. She wiggles and giggles, and all will be well if only we find him! The woodpecker’s knell as he hammers the coffin of some dying tree that once was a fortress to someone like me rings wildly above us. Some things that we know we are meant to forget. Life is a bloodletting, maple-syrup-slow. Kin by Michael R. Burch for Richard Moore 1. Shrill gulls, how like my thoughts you, struggling, rise to distant bliss— the weightless blue of skies that are not blue in any atmosphere, but closest here... 2. You seek an air so clear, so rarified the effort leaves you famished; earthly tides soon call you back— one long, descending glide... 3. Disgruntledly you grope dirt shores for orts you pull like mucous ropes from shells’ bright forts... You eye the teeming world with nervous darts— this way and that... Contentious, shrewd, you scan— the sky, in hope, the earth, distrusting man. Keywords/Tags: flight, fly, flying, bird, birds, mockingbird, raven, owl, heron, canary, gull, gulls, goose, duck, hummingbird