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Bird Childhood Poems | Bird Poems About Childhood

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

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Details | Pantoum |


When I was young and life was easy
I never thought but of the next day.
For the young, things can be so breezy
It is the child's way.

I never thought but of the next day
Until that day came upon me.
It is the child's way
And I did not want to see.

Until that day came upon me
I was carefree like the bird on high.
And I did not want to see
The dark adult horizons that would make me cry.

I was carefree like the bird on high
Only to be trapped by love
The dark adult horizons that would make me cry
Crushing me down from above.

Only to be trapped by love
For the young, things can be so breezy
Crushing me down from above
When I was young and life was easy.

Dan Cwiak ... written for:
Paula Swanson's Pantoum contest

Copyright © Daniel Cwiak | Year Posted 2010

Details | Couplet |

Eyes of a Child

Looking all around me and becoming more aware,
Of the people and surroundings at which many children stare.

I come to terms and realize the acts of hate I see,
And now I fear that this same scene will soon envelope me.

Walking on a lonesome road, though crowded it may seem,
I pass through silent hordes of people hushing silent screams.

Beside me standing hand-in-hand, an older man and wife,
I wonder if they thought like me, what happened to their life.

I reminisce now further back before these broken days,
A time of wasting food and drink and dressing different ways.

But now we all look just alike in tattered grays and browns,
Drifting through these damaged streets and sporting matching frowns.

I thought we'd left the two world wars and poverty behind,
To linger in our broken books and fill an older time.

A time where death would cloud the world with sorrow and disease,
And fear would plant itself within the innocent with ease.

This made me think and look around for Noah and his arc,
And for the first time since the night I heard a flustered lark.

I quickly turned around to spot within a child's hands,
An injured bird whose time had brought it here from other lands.

The child stole a piece of thread from a redbreast robin's nest,
And wrapped around the ailing bird a splint so it could rest.

An hour past the lark took flight and answered to the wild;
The only resting place of hope is in the bright eyes of a child.

Copyright © Elaine Ho | Year Posted 2007

Details | Personification |

'Little Sparrow'

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”—Psalm 34:18 New International Version (NIV)

Little sparrow, what troubles thee;
      is it the stigma you face?
Little sparrow, what pierces thee;
      is it the shame of disgrace?

Is it the brokenness in your heart, 
     or the sorrows you can't outlive?
Is it the anguish that sets you apart, 
     or the hurt that holds you captive? 

What befalls you 
      is neither unfelt nor unknown;
God cares and calls you
      when you're cast out and all alone. 

God will never forsake you
     in your time of need;
God will never permit you
     to suffer or bleed.

02/19/2014; for "TO HEAL A HEART" Contest


Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

This is me

My knees were the things that 
kept me up and my skin is my 
cutting board my eyes are the 
rain clouds to the fire running 
down my arms and my heart is 
the fire place that keeps me 
burning so calm

Copyright © brittney lopez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |

Loving Grandparents

Loving Grandparents

I've seen more faces of parental love
As a child I heard folk lore from grandma
Often I lay calm in her elbow's cove
Night pressed her feet swollen with oedema 
And in the noon we would hide in a room 
With a binoculars to watch the birds 
Collecting twigs for nesting babes in womb
Grandma was fun and all requests were heard

Grandpa moved around with his wailking stick  
We took care of him on his pious bed
Didn't know he was dying thought him sick
In the middle of night goodbye he said 

We hugged and cried at our world that collapsed.
New homes we were flown to, our ties just snapped

October 29, 2015
Contest: In The Name Of Love
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton

Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

The Child Inside

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.
Some take a child for angels, some for birds.
How much is it worth with the child’s face?
I’ll tell you now and rest my  case!
Who can resist the charm she casts?
Who can foretell how long it lasts?
Who can reject the smile she gives?
Who doesn't like the life she lives?
Who can refuse to play with her?
Who can’t be kind? Who can’t be fair?
Who doesn't feel the words she says?
Who can translate or paraphrase?!
It takes a child to learn these facts!
It takes a man to grasp such acts. 
This tiny child inflames our pride.
This shining pearl remains inside.
And comes out like a rising tide .


Copyright © OMAR JABAK | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse |


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

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Seasonal Walks in the Park

 baseball, bird, change, childhood, games, holiday, lost,

“Seasonal Walks in the Park!”

A walk in the park after a springtime morning rainfall 
Is to hear the droplets fall from bent branches overhead
That can shock and moisten one’s brow walking below
And make note on the many water stains spotting the lanes

The grasses have turned into rich shiny green blades
Water drops remaining give individual blades sparkle
And soon the lawns will need to be mowed often 
And made and kept ready for park picnics and games 

The dissolving clouds open gaps for sun rays piercings
Adding sunbeam warmth  down on upturned faces 
The sun-warm breezes will temp visitors to carry their coats
And others perhaps persuaded in removing their shoes and socks

Some will have their feet dampened on the grass from droplets of dew 
As they venture and tread about the newly showered lawns  
The blades of grass will squeak when running shoes tramp through 
And if recently cut than grass blades will stick between bared toes

Spring’s love potion is inhaled and felt by all touring about 
Seasoning desires for familiarity towards the fairer sex 
From past haunts of pleasantly spent park delights 
Where wooing couples will be affected to a time stand still 

The early morning rainbow has faded and day’s clear skies are imminent 
The air fresh from receding mists mingle heavenly and tweak the nose
Dew worms break through and inch their way along above ground
Turning out from under the now soft rain moistened soil

This stirs the well-known smell of earth worms movements 
And birds sing out invitations  for all to join in this feed
Mother birds will return and hungry hatchlings will have first kills
And fathers will be released then of their nest guard duties for this share

All daytime and nighttime visitors will become love-struck
In their search for springtime’s romancing love calls to one another
The park comes awake to the frenzy and welcomes young and old
To meet, greet, and form new and old friendships offered all around 

The park's excitement is truly felt when a love-knot becomes first tied 
Crawling babies born from previous spring time passions will be noted
 They will learn the high-step toddle soon enough bringing them to romp
Once they have experienced that first feel of having to crawl on prickly grass

Young voices are heard mingling along with loud hand claps 
All friendly ‘high-fives’ are brandied about within the new met groups 
This is an all- time game ritual passed between friendships bonding
All this showmanship will form new team players for ball-park games

The ice-rink’s wooden forms are being removed and taken away for another year
Memories of skating parties last held are brought to surface 
The recall of being half frozen and then thawed 
When invited to sip a mug of hot chocolate steaming and full-bodied

A freshly painted baseball diamond will replace the rink area now
This ball field will bring many ball park players to home-plate
While proving to others they are ‘out of bounds’ 
Their devotion to play after school and during holidays is well kept

The flapping and snapping of new kites sound overhead 
Straining their ties against the cruel breezes putting them down
Watchers walking about are made to feel free 
The breezes jostle skirt and pant legs to tease about

Children are held clasped in grown-up hands  to hold them fast 
Their first walk about in the park has been a long time put on hold
Even the elderly are childlike and have a bounce given to their step
Walking around the park’s perimeter evolves a lifetime’s returning event

A seasonal change brings about new and different facades to the parkland
And they never fail to have a special allure to draw all outdoors
No matter what the weather call that day or night will bring
Walkers are in want of fresh-air walks found in the park grounds

And dogs always have to reacquaint themselves to the lay of the parkland 
Their bones need burying for great hunts in all seasons to become lost and found
They love to leave their markings on pure white snow banks as calling cards 
The park sees all and sees to all that visit and never will tell tales of any kind!

Copyright © Diane M Quinlan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |

Mr Inquisitive

Could a scythe cut a slice
from a sycamore tree?
If a bird had no feathers
what bird would it be?
If a square had three corners
would it still be a square?
Will your curls always swirl
if you tug at your hair?

My curls will always swirl
For questions make them so
You will question me ‘why’
when my answer is ‘no’.
If I answer you  ‘yes’
You will question with ‘how’
If a tree could grow knowledge
I'd reach for a bough.

Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Chinese New Year

Red envelope
Bursting with luck
Dragons dancing in the street

Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Return Of Your King

Reflections of imperfections have shown me a way that I can move mountains through my power of faith even though I can't see him I know he is real through the power of prayer and a Love that I feel It's growing inside me like a flower in bloom shall I reveal my powers or is it too soon I am reading the signs through my darkness I find a reason for belief in the light of mankind that I know shall overcome the greatest of odds the Love I seek amazes me especially through the flaws because now I am inspired through the hero's that bring my throne through the darkness on which I return on as your King.

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

The Weeping Drum

Ta pime yaah ta pime yaah bam
Rata tata rata tata bam
Ta pime yaah ta pimi yaah bam
Tears drip from the face of the weeping drum. 
The drum the drum the drum
Screaming and shouting
Crackling and rackling 
Dispelling a mighty woeful sound.  
Ica mama ica mama rata tata rata tata bam.
Thousand of them pouring in the street 
Following the sorrowful and painful drum beat
amba picka  amba picka  amaba  pika bam
Girt up your waist and run
Ban your belly and come
Weeping and wailing flooding the street
Mournful singers and dancers entertaining in grief
While traditional women light thousand of candles
To feed the souls and expel the dark forces of the devil.
Ah namba ramba tata ramba tata  bam
Emotions run high, increasing tension in the sky 
Filling hearts with burden too heavy to bear 
Causing them to rent their garment in despair.
lingo bam bam lingo bam
bam lingo bam bam lingo bam
The sound grew louder and louder
Waking everyone out of their agonizing slumber
And forcing them to congregate in village, cities and towns.
They beat the drums all night, and marched around the city wall
Blowing horns, chanting despondent words that it might fall.
Beat the drum brother man 
Round up the youths to join the band
Sound the drum a little louder 
March into the devils territory
And trample Lucifer under your feet.
Beat the drum brother man
Beat the drum and sing a victory song
Ta pime yaah ta pime yaah bam
Rata tata rata tata bam
Beat the drums brother man
Beat the drum for Mr. Steve and drag him into the circle
Ica mama ica, mama rata tata rata tata bam.
Expel the tormenting spirit of that relentless destructive devil.
Rata tata rata tata bam.
                                                                      ©2014 Christine Phillips

Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2014

Details | Choka |

Feeding the Ducklings

I still remember
when I was a little girl
mom and dad loving picnics
we liked this one place
with lots of old shady trees
and a wooden water pier

the little ducklings
swam right behind mother duck
and they were so sweet to watch
on the very end
of the pier I liked to sit
can I feed them, dad

dad said yes of course
but never feed bread my dear
he gave me some nice green grapes
some chopped old lettuce
even some grated carrots
oh, I ate some too

why dad, why not bread
he told me bread would kill them
water fowl cannot digest
bread- feed them good food
dad knew a lot about nature
and feeding wee ducklings too

I loved how they came
paddling fast to get a treat
mother duck drifted watching
then- watermelon
even I had some of that
I was just a small girl then

a memory now
of an afternoon feeding
precious ducklings from the pier
of my mom and dad
and that special place we loved
I still go- to feed ducklings

May 5, 2016

Choka  x 6

For the contest, Feeding the Ducklings,
sponsor, Eve Roper

Third Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Limerick |

A Hungry Bird

Oh there once was a bird in the sky
Till he said " I am Hungry Oh MY!"
He hopped on the ground 
Till a fat worm was found
Then he swallowed it up with a sigh.

Copyright © Patricia Sawyer | Year Posted 2008

Details | Fibonacci |

budgie ''Pete'' needs to go

l was just small with black hair visiting grandma and her budgie bird Pete, who flew and would land on my head and poop and I would yell loud, running and screaming, you stinky bird don't go on my shiny hair but he always did one day he flew after me into the bathroom because I really had to go and he fell into the toilet with a big fat splash, I laughed saying to grandma, Pete has finally figured out where he should be going ____________________________ July 26, 2015 Fibonacci For the contest, Everyone Poops, sponsor, Roy Jerben Third Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse |

Sketches 14

The young boy was pale, 
He walked slowly in the alley 
No. 41.His skeleton hand hold a rusted tin can. 
He was in business,for him it was. 

On his innocent face, 
In a modern world,who really forgotten 
Kids like him was also human too.His eyes 
Pasted on a piece of bread on the dirty pavement. 
On his side was tall buildings,on the other was a busy EDSA. 

A dove whose feather blacken by the third world metropolis, 
Peeped down from the lamp post, 
Measuring the distance of the bread on the ground 
Look at the child,inclining its head side ward, 
Then,their eyes meet,resting on each other stare 
Like eternity, 
And it flew toward the blinding sun. 

The boy saw a man approached, 
Polished shoes landed on his lunch 
The gold Rolex,tailored clothes,big ring, 
A heavy necklace hung loosely on beefy neck. 
Surprised on a sudden hand that raised on his way, 
"Move out!" bellowed angrily,then scurried quickly on a green traffic
 light. "Fool..."the boy sighed. 

Business is business,he thought,as he reached out the crushed bread 
Uttered a little prayer,ate it religiously with tears on his eyes. 
Every bite he remembered his little brother he left this morning
on their cartoon box house 
At Smokey Mountain outside Manila,its smoke ascend forever 
Till the end of time,because of the corrupt lordship in kings palace
His little brother burned at stake alive waiting for his pancit. 
His father was an inmate at Bilibid prison selda katorse (14)
His mother was a girl  in the street. 

Then an old woman came out at the Binondo Church. 
Walked briskly as the wind swept the dusk on summer days. 
Stopped,a discolored dirt hand spread for an alms. 
Irritated,she rummaged her purse,and gently place the one peso 
on the boys hand,made sure to slow her movement,maybe the rest 
Were looking at her, she raised her brow and smile
"Of course.", she said sweetly
Father hope will see this act she thought that
Might mention her name in homily,Mrs. Cerbo was kind to the poor. 
He spit the coin and swipe it on his dirty torn shirt 
And say..."God Blessed Maddame." 

Then he ran at the little Sari-sari store
Brought a piece of bread,break it into halves 
He hid his share on his  pocket 
Then tossed the half on the side walk
When the boy had gone, blue wing landed 
Ate with pride and thinking, "stupid boy..stupid boy..".

Copyright © Herbert Siao | Year Posted 2014

Details | Nonet |

Tiny Hands Of Love

                                    On tiny hands of innocence sweet
                                    A baby bird sits perched to eat
                                    While tiny hands remain still
                                    The scene is so surreal
                                    Baby bird flies home 
                                    Taking prints of
                                    Tiny hands
                                    Big love

Copyright © Tonya LaDona Sullivant | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sonnet |


Whenever Summer comes i become sad
So sad that i start to bahave like mad
Days regain their elastic seasonal spell
From June to August my heart starts to swell

Emotions rise and fall like waves on shore
Sometimes I float,whiles i sink to the core
While in deep see I remember those days
The backward memeries from childhood plays

As naive boys and simply seeking fun 
The birds that nest were our devilish plan
Once they nestle quite in their feathery seat
They become our satanic childhood treat

Days were so long when we were so young
Now they are so short, there is something wrong

Copyright © Lonely Shepherd | Year Posted 2015

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.

Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


A slow-creeping mollusk
Belonging to family
Differing from slugs
Protective shell

Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

Our Hayleys Budgie

by Robert (Bob) Moore

Our Hayley had a budgie, she loved it very much
singing in his cage all day, his feathers soft to touch
then one day I found him, on the bottom of the cage
just a bundle of still feathers, it may have been old age

I knew how much our Hayley, would be sad and so distraught
so I went down to the pet shop, and another one I bought, 
I placed the new one in the cage, with tender loving care
she will not know the difference, when she hears it singing there

She was too young to know of death, and things that went away
and so we tried to shield her, she’d know all that one day
She came home that afternoon, and went straight to the cage
the budgie looked, but did not sing, and then it ran away

Something funny here she said, don’t know quite what to do
this budgie has green feathers, but this morning it had blue
A bit of quick fast talking, birds can moult, and feathers fall
the changing of the seasons, I really said it all

She pretended to believed me, and the story she would cop 
‘cause she was only four or five, and after all, I was her Pop

Copyright © Bob Moore | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |



       Restless river winds.
       winnowing valley farmland.

       In Father's garden chickens squawk, squabble.
       Silver sunlight dances.

       Hens spurn gardens bounty,
       for girl in dusty pants,
       rattling evenings grain bowl.
       Prancing single file behind
       fowl feet indent narrow path.

       Wind rustles treetops.


Copyright © Eileen Bell | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Gardens of Grandma

Her talented hands paint the piano
with perfect classical concerts, and
technology is the basket where her
music can always make rainbows
in the sky before my eyes, and one
day before my grandchildren's eyes.

Black and white photos of the past
suddenly become a bouquet of flowers
in my hands, and color rise like the sun.
Their faces move and breathe, since
I realize that their blood now bounds
through my heart on a day to day reality.

Stories bring alive faces never seen,
and the individual words are thousands
of puzzle pieces where in the end, time
binds them all together, and I understand
the history of my family even more.

Her religious faith, a carved wooden box,
where daily Scripture gives her strength.
Also, the belief in God blooms in a forest
of strong thoughts in her mind. She gladly
listens to the singing birds, the angels of
Heaven and tells their story to me.

Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Night Owl

It flies and settles on a tree branch,
waiting for fish to pop out of the lake,
to enjoy the moonlight.

A group of kids sits around a bonfire,
trembling with fright,
as they keenly listen to the owl's hooting.

"The bogeyman is being ushered in...."
one of the kids says, with a breaking tone......

Contest: Night Owl

Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Crows And Ravens

As black birds, bad luck shadows us,
For we have many personas like trickster
Or ill-omened out caster, cast away
No matter how our broken speech sounds.
Our mere presence spark uncomfortable discourse.
How many chances can they take with our lives?

I’m cursed, within this unnoticeable room,
Where my only odds are fight or flight.
Except, my wings have been clipped, so it’s pointless.
Still, I’m dubbed as the freedom fighter,
And yet, I remain locked in a steel cage.

My sanity splits into delirium.
Fear burrow ever deeper into my fragile soul.
Anger begins to throb inside my once gentle heart, 
When the sadness starts clawing at the darkened pupils.
All the while, the hunger instills its own painful symptom.

So, I peck, I claw, I snap at the lock, 
While screeching the dialect, everyone forgot.
As one of them, I am voiceless.
A handful of grain is tossed in, with little care.
Above, the water rains down from the silver jug.

This occurred, till one hand unlocked it.
I struck her— blood had trickled down.
I clawed— I struggled for the sweet scent of freedom.
I hopped—I hopped from that oppressing cage. 
Willingly, I followed her out of the devil’s domain…
Never to return.

Copyright © David Ferguson | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |


~A Very Important Question~ To all the clever clogs out there, and I know there are some It’s only cos I’m jealous because I am not one of them I know how to split an atom, and make a clock run on a lemon I know how to change a heater on a hot tub, cos I have just done one I know what to plant in an acid garden that will gives its best bloom I know the time to plant it and I know when it’s too soon But when my little nephew asked a question while talking to me It was a question I was stuck on and it’s “do the dicky birds wee?” Well I thought about it for a while and pondered on this question And all the bird poop lying around I could not make a decision on So to all of you that know the answer, please will you tell me When a bird is having a craps on us, is it also having a wee?
©GG 1/09/2012

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain |


He's of a bright yellow and auburn color,
and Autumn leaves match his feathers well;
what a gorgeous canary stands on my window-sill...
and I call him the friendliest, most talented warbler!

Next door, there are heartless and crazy boys who harm birds
by using slings and stones to bring them down,
and then watch them die by inflicting more pain;
that's so cruel, don't ever do it to another canary, rascals!

Kids, don't kill my bird...he's a useful animal
with the biggest heart in the Fauna's kingdom,
if he ever died, I would be confined to dreary boredom!
Let him live, so that I can continue living through the Fall!

He comes to visit me hardly flipping his wings so fragile,
and he surprises me sometimes, while I play at the piano so carried away
by the notes that himself sings for me in a triad chord so simple;
would you want to hear him sing that melody...are you listening to me?

Birds are put in cages, if they were wild animals like lions and tigers,
but they are the beautiful and gentle creatures of the Wild and they run from hunters,
not from bird-watchers...and you say,"They aren't intelligent or wise!"
Watch them in their habitat:  you'll learn to adore them, and love them for life!

Kids, don't kill my bird...he has caring parents like those in a loving family,
I rescued him from a forest's trap...his legs were caught and they bled;
I took him home and gave him first aid, and he miraculously survived!
Did God send this bird to me...to test me how compassionate I would be?

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

Sage ( My Baby Bird )

My baby bird plaid and yellow
cherry pie and face aglow

magic pumpkin dreams of summer
chilly nights tucked warm for slumber

falling fast fast asleep
twenty-nine pure white sheep

twenty-nine pure white sheep
falling fast fast asleep

my baby bird plaid and yellow
cherry pie and face aglow



List Of 29

m y
b a b y
b i r d
p l a i d
a n d
y e l l o w
c h e r r y
p i e
f a c e 
a g l o w 
m a g i c
p u m p k i n
d r e a m s 
o f
s u m m e r 
c h i l l y
n i g h t s
t u c k e d
w a r m
f o r
s l u m b e r
f a l l i n g
f a s t
a s l e e p
t w e n t y
n i n e
p u r e
w h i t e
s h e e p
This is about my buddies two year old daughter "Sage"

Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |


The window of the earth
Here's the spirit of peace
the way Getting to the past
Here's the culture and history
Blended together walking the future
With the tattoos of temporary beauty, 
Stays forever in memory
the shades of life
and the story of beautiful goddess
the human belief of natural being upheld.

I love you peace. Let's sail together. Layag Sug!
Kinta. 220515

Copyright © Neldy Jolo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

A Little Girl's Peacock

A Little Girl’s Peacock

The vision she must have had
A brightly colored peacock
Many artists saw the magnificent creature
They all spoke of it
Some called it a toucan
Others saw the peacock for what it was
She knew what she wanted
She wanted a beautiful bird
Peacock or toucan she got what she wanted
A beautiful bird that everyone wanted to see
She brought to life the entire spectrum of color
Such time she must have taken
Every feather in place
An eye that had so much life in it
The bird was ready to jump off the canvas
It was ready to take flight through a dense rain forest
How could she have such a talent?
No one taught her
She had the passion in her heart
So strong was her passion that every brushstroke was perfect
It was almost as if she had the bird within her grasp
For her age she made quite an impact
Not one person thought that she was only 8 years old
Such a talent at such a young age
Some called it a miracle
Others called it just a lucky shot
If you ask that little girl
She will tell you that it is just a painting of a peacock
Nothing more, nothing more
Just a peacock painted by a little girl
And that is all that matters

Copyright © R. e. taylor | Year Posted 2012