Bird Dad Poems | Bird Poems About Dad

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

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Details | ABC |

Love for someone,

Sorrow is my companion now,
Why do you tears your drowsy?
The happiness you have received,
The realization of the world of sorrow.

Life has listened to me,
Why do you co-exit?
Love you all,
We all hate hatred.

Sorrow is my companion now,
Why do you tears your drowsy?

Everyone broken my heart,
Why do you do me love?
Why do you want us everything?
We have given everything to us only punishment.

Sorrow is my companion now,
Why do you tears your drowsy?
The happiness you have received,
The realization of the world of sorrow.

Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2017

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 | Light Poetry |

Do you like Pigeons Dad

‘Do you like Pigeons Dad’

“Oh No”

‘But Why?’

“They’re scummy things
They’re Rats with wings
They’re vermin of the sky”

‘That can’t be right Dad’

“It is”

‘How So?’

“They pilfer seed
They breed at speed
And harbour disease you know”

‘Are you sure dad’

“Oh Yes”

‘Since when?’

“Since the Rock Pigeon flew
And ended up in a stew
Since their domestication by men”

‘But I like Pigeons Dad’

“I know
You do”

‘I like how they sing
I like the shape of their wing
So you should like them too’

“But I don’t like Pigeons Son.
Not now.
Not ever.
Their walk is bizarre,
They crap on my car
And they’re really not that clever”

'But Daaaad…

...they wake me in the morning,
With their delightful coo,
Their plumage is wonderful - an iridescent blue.
They look good in the garden Dad
They don’t make such a mess
Do you like Pigeons Dad?’


[This poem was the result of being asked this question many, many, many times by my son. My son is on the autistic spectrum - he has Asperger's Syndrome to give the official diagnosis. He is a lovely human being & I love him dearly. But one of his most irritating traits, is the fact that he asks the same questions continuously all day every day. No matter how you respond, the same question will be posed minutes later. Currently and for at least the last 2 to 3 years: 'Do you like pigeons daddy?' is his favourite/most frequently asked question. Now that you know that, perhaps you can really feel the exasperation in that final ..."Yes"]

Copyright © David Sollis | Year Posted 2013

Details | Limerick |


                     The queen of birds Sari dear lived in the mango tree
                     I asked her to come down and take a saree from me
                              She asked wide-eyed the price of it
                               I said,”Sari, you’re a cute tweet”
            She made faces, chirruped short, and flew to the next tree.

A  saree  is a South Asian female garment that consists of a drape varying from five to nine yards in length and two to four feet in breadth that is typically wrapped around the waist, with one end draped over the shoulder, baring the midriff. 

                      Sari came down and sat on the bay window
                    ‘Dad’, she said,’ you must chain the devil Frido’
                                      “He is a gawky brute
                                  Just now he ate up a coot
                       He needs your boot and a slap on his credo”.

                 Sari tweeted my wife” O mom, don’t pinch my behind”
                   My wife re-tweeted,” Sari, You are not of this kind”.
                          “Sorry to say you have no proper bum
                           So, Sari, how can I be a pinch bum?”
                   Sari re-re-tweeted, “Mom, a lie, my bum is twined.”

                      Sari came one day with his creaky husband Suk
                  “Dad, teach Suk a lesson, he must know how to cook"
                            "Sari, my darling, you’re a sweet fraud
                          Don’t crook Suk’s head with a teaching rod
                      Better teach him how to fly by hook or by crook"

                  Sari, my daughter, in mid September, gave birth to a girl
                   She was a ball of furry delight, eyes were pacific pearl
                               I said, "Sari ,you are now a mother
                               So you must not be antsy like other
                Sari hugged her child,said”dad, no worry, she will be a whirl"

Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | 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 | Rhyme |

Nature's Single Dads - The Australian Emu

Nature’s Single Dad:
The Australian Emu :
The first 55 days

Emund is busy
preparing his
dance-floor for
partners who’ll put
him to the test. 
His pedigree line
has proven with time

that it is now his
turn, to be best.
He hears them emerge
from the bush as
they gather in
answer to nature’s
They dance, and then
go away, they know
they cannot stay; 
there is not enough
food for them all. 

They dip and they
weave as they mingle
together knowing
that each has a
With his reputation,
there is no
he is ready to join
in the dance.
‘Bonk! Bonk,’ comes
the sound of another
arrival, ‘It’s
Emulena!’ he says
with a grin. 
Others move to the
side as he leaves
them mid-stride 
to greet this dancer
as she flounces in.

With sensuous,
rhythmic movement of
hips she fluffs up
her boa, it bounces
in time. 
He matches her mood.
His movements are
as they twist and
twirl in their
dancing mime.
He does not fuss
about who takes the
lead, he follows and
their dance now is
With steps that are
light he glides to
the right, 	
he meets her, bows
deeply, head
Emulena says,
“Sorry, we cannot
stay longer, we all
must find paddocks
It matters not
whether we all stay
we trust you to know
what to do.”
As she speaks, they
deposit their gifts,
and he hears, as in
chorus they say,
“We know you’ll do
magically, what you
do naturally 
to deliver these in
your own way.”

After completing her
task, Emulena stands
tall and she fluffs
up her feathers once
They follow her lead
in twos, and in
and promenade across
the dance floor.
Left all alone, he
goes back to his
duties and looks
closely at each pale
green shell.
He checks all for
defects. He sees
they are perfect, 
so with care he
covers every one

He sticks to his
task for fifty-five
days in sunshine,
strong winds and
some showers.
He values each
treasure and tends
them with pleasure 
as he, turns each
egg every three
Through his long
lashes he sees
danger coming. He
drops his neck down
like a log.
Feathers flying on
high and red fur
prowls near-by; 
he needs to fool
both bird and dog.

The shells have now
turned a dark bluey
green, there’s an
infertile egg in the
This egg will be
food for his hungry
but he won’t eat or
drink, ‘til they
Each day he looks
up, and turns his
head to the sun as
it rises each
He’ll sit day and
night until the
time’s right.
He knows, that time
comes without

to be continued...

Copyright © J Eliza JAMES | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Egg for Breakfast I'm a Dad

This morning i got a big surprise
For I couldn't believe my eyes
I uncovered my parrots
To be fed
And in Oscars seed pot
There was an egg.

Oscar looked so proud
I shouted ''OSACAR''
Right out loud.

The egg had a a sheen and lusture like a pearl
So Oscar wasn't a boy at all
But a girl!.

Zippy an identical parrot lives by Oscars side
in seperare cages
So mating was denied.

Oscar is sitting on the egg right now
I feel like a Father
But I don't know how.

It was my wish for Zippy and Oscar to mate
As soon as they new each other
What happens now
I'll keep you up to date.

Peter Dome, Copyright 2016. June.

Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2016

Details | Bio |

06072014 Get Along Home

,b>Get Along Home

When I was young

Life on the farm was difficult to understand at seven

The rooster flogged me

Dad in vengeance chopped the heads of everyone of his mates
 numbering a hundred

As he watched in the coop

Perhaps I didn't understand the reality that since I ate at the table

that I had to pluck the feathers off too

It was one of the hardest things to do

As a young lady he taught me manners and I served
 his gentleman guests-

as they looked upon me, the youngest daughter
Perhaps God had greater plans

for I wanted to see some of the world outside the farm

When Dad got sick, he left a hundred sheep for me to tend

It was the happiest and peaceful I've ever been despite the pain in my life

Perhaps God had greater plans for me when my mother sold half the stock
and I was left to work a waitress job at fourteen

And I liked serving the people
they were much different than the farmers I had met

I had my chance to leave home with my mothers permission at the age of sixteen  ~ 

I moved to Georgia
and I knew God had other plans for me

Its been thirty two years now

when will I learn that society isn't too good for me

I find myself on my land looking and feeling the breeze on my cheek

steel tears from my soul; they don't come

for I've never been loved by a man at all

I thought about throwing in the towel, and becoming a hermit
Perhaps God has greater plans for me

He spoke to me the other day
I know the voice of my Lord
He wondered why I do that..

pretty much, sell myself short

He said there is such beauty and wonderment
and I blinked as a fawn

Perhaps I do not know how to communicate well in public,

in fact, even people in the small towns nearby say I am the nicest lady but odd

Life is harsh as we search for acceptance

my inner child trembles and I am so very hurt
for who could love me?

As the old folk sing an old folk song:
(get along home Cindy, Cindy)
(get along home Cindy, Cindy)

Perhaps God has other plans

Life is difficult,

no doubt about it

My poured soul flows

and I lack comfort that I need

harsh words are more than I can bear these days

and I find many blessings knowing I don't have to stay on this earth for all time

Perhaps I could show the world my inner self so kind

but I'm shy;

to get hurt again

I've never given that to any man

but Dear Ole' Dad

Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

First Quail Hunt

When I turned twelve, Dad bought me a shot gun Thought two sons hunting with him, would be fun My brother also got his at that age They were Remington Wingmaster, 12 gauge Dad had two Pointer bird dogs, both well-trained This is a breed born to hunt, it’s ingrained The dogs had been named Old Red and Clover Clover ranged close but Red was a rover Dad’s bird hunt of choice, was always Bob Whites As these quail don’t run before they take flight Other types of quail, like the West Texas Blues Run before they flush, that’s dog hunt bad news I’d walked on hunts, but never with a gun Then dad said “Boys you’re hunting on this one” We both knew gun safety and how to shoot Clay pigeons move out, but quail really scoot “Get the butt tight to your shoulder”, said Dad The gun kicked hard, so the stock had a pad Still before I learned, my shoulder was blue It didn’t take long to know what to do We left for the hunt, the sky was still black Went in the old pickup with dogs in back Just getting light when we got to the field Gave the dogs a short run, then made them heel We started to walk, but stayed fairly tight Dad was in the middle and Big “J” on the right Clover was working but stayed right in front Old Red was way out ranging wide to hunt We could see Red when he went on a point When Clover saw him, she froze every joint Old Red on a point is a sight to see Clover backing the point’s a thrill to me We walked toward the covey very slow Clover stayed, just in front, she’d freeze then go Old Red would only move a foot or two and freeze Dad talked soft, wanting to keep Red at ease Both dogs looked tense and about to explode Like a beam in stress from an over load When the birds all flushed with that sudden roar Big “J” shot one and Dad dropped down two more I never raised my gun, so had egg on my face Spellbound by the dogs, I couldn’t keep pace They both had a good laugh at my expense It’s my first time out, I said in defense The dogs retrieved the bird as they were trained Then the hunt ended as down came the rain On the way home I yelled, “I’m the winner!” I don’t have to clean a shot gun before dinner

Copyright © Charles Sides | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |

wish I could

Wish I could drift on a wood
on a ever flowing river
stop wherever there's need for food
wood will save me from shiver

drifting along like a vagabond
absorbing all sights and sound
breaking all the bond
just enjoying joy newly found

can move on and on
slow down only to assimilate
the scenes at dusk and dawn
after such stresses the pleasure is legitimate

I wont   mind breathing my last here
among the swaying trees and flowing water
having left behind all and their care
wish to be reduced to mud and reshaped by the potter (God)

Copyright © bawa talwar | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Pie anyone

Don’t often see him

7/8 asleep

But I’m sometimes surprised

Brushing my feet

Purring and arching

And pushing up high

Ecstasy shows in a half closed eye

Black white and furry

Real smooth to the touch

But not really keen on fussing that much

So soft and cuddly you fail to remember

He has in his mind a deadly agenda


Hey human, scratch me here, scratch me there

You only think that you’re covered in hair

You feed me Iams and think I’m so nice

But I really prefer the heads of live mice

The warden of the garden on constant patrols

Listening for sounds like the digging of moles

One eyes the ground the other the sky

Watching and waiting for things that might fly

For this week I have but one major goal

To tear that magpie another arsehole


He goes for me when he can, him and his mate

One will tease me from my lair the other lies in wait


They got me in a tree one day I was hanging off one paw

Down came the magpie crow, I couldn’t hold on much more

One quick peck and I let go

Bloody hard that beak you know

Hit a few branches way below

Crash -landed on the floor


I’ll get some food, maybe a nap and

Lick my paw like nothing has happened

I’ll strut and swagger and act so sublime

Knowing that pie is on borrowed time


I go out at night while they aren’t around

Scout around and find some new ground

Under a bush I make a new lair

Lie in wait for my friend of the air


I eat a few moths spend a night on the tiles

And maybe I’ll doze for a time

Aha they’re near you can hear them for miles

If he lands up close he’s mine


Hello Jake you look all smug

After your night on the town

You had better get on to your rug

And have a good lie down


Dream a dream of shredded bird

Dying all a quiver

Bet you didn’t expect me

To be chewing on your liver


Sorry about the garden mess

Hope it doesn’t make you queasy

We had a tear up I must confess

And he came apart real easy

- this is a poem by my dad about our pet cat "jakey"

Copyright © Glinda Host | Year Posted 2017