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!
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013
The Moon, The Swan, The Rose
I see an enchanted image that you’ve never dreamed of
With reflections twinkling while dancing on wave drops
Of a dreamy blue lake that is a mirror of one white swan
A dancing beauty with a pureness that blesses this water
She floats like a princess with such an elegance and grace
As splendor ripples through a lens of her divine existence
A canvas painting as one masterpiece beyond compare
As the moonlight manifests a sweet rose in my dreams
Beautiful to desire now that nothing shall be disturbed
Within a frozen memory a brilliant diamond illuminates
As the full moon’s image enters the depths of her soul
And a sad, certain loneliness leaves her spirit exhausted
Arising before my eyes on the wings of angels I see all
Clearly now with an excited, fluttering magical heartbeat
Believe me—that this eternal blue sky is incredibly real
With a golden orb of light colors reflecting so exquisitely
Now as majestic images of God’s Heaven appear above
I see His very image of the Moon, the Swan, and the Rose
Anne-Lise Andresen, Gary Bateman, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 2, 2015 (Unrhymed Tercet)
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015
Wake me, the owl, when the moon does rise
and his golden beams illuminate the skies,
when the darkness flees and the time just flies
and the cold, crystal stars twinkle in our eyes.
Nothing could keep me from basking in your glow
not lightning, not thunder, not even rain or snow,
I'm not moving from my branch, so let the winds blow
his crescent smile is never lost, this I surely know.
So easily the moon enchants and takes me by the wing
which causes my heart to flutter, and serenade and sing,
The daytime sun does not possess the charm that he can bring
when under his nightly influence, you can imagine anything.
Still, no dream can entice me to sleep in a little late
and miss the wonder of the moment, O, I cannot wait,
to see him there hurrying along, not to miss a date
then up above the hills to meet me at my wooden gate.
I'll wait right here, nestled up high in the maple tree
where you will hear my echoed call, but hardly ever see,
a little, lonesome night owl is what I will always be
when the moon does rise, just promise you'll wake me.
Written on February 6th, 2016
Owls Personification Contest
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2016
swaddled in clouds
Published - Cattails - Spring, 2016
Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2016
The birdsong in the morning is so clear
It is a song I love to hear
As the moonbeams kissed the sea
That is where I like to be
The winding river flows it's course
Using mother nature's force
The heat is here, it is so strong
While the Eastern winds they sing their song
Copyright © Vera Duggan | Year Posted 2015
This pen now wants some rest,
this mind is now tired a lot,
like a mute bird in its nest
no more song now,no more thoughts.
This mind is now tired a lot,
though the moon is in the sky
no more song now,no more thoughts,
no more words now,don't ask me why.
Though the moon is in the sky,
your eyes still so blue and deep,
no more words now,don't ask me why
give me a break now,let me sleep.
Your eyes still so blue and deep;
like a mute bird in its nest
give me a break now,let me sleep,
this pen now wants some rest.
©kash poet (kashinath karmakar)
Placement:2nd; January 2013
Contest:One to One (all monosyllable words)
PANTOUM--A rare form of poetry similar to a villanelle. It is composed of a series of quatrains; the second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the next. This pattern continues for any number of stanzas, except for the final stanza, which differs in the repeating pattern. The first and third lines of the last stanza are the second and fourth of the penultimate; the first line of the poem is the last line of the final stanza, and the third line of the first stanza is the second of the final. Ideally, the meaning of lines shifts when they are repeated although the words remain exactly the same: this can be done by shifting punctuation, punning, or simply recontextualizing.
Copyright © kash poet | Year Posted 2013
The elements of the heavens above
Where the birds go swaying and dipping down
And the clouds mist their way along the sky
There the dark sky shrouds the moon with a gown
In awe I spread my arms just to accept
The nature of the clouds and the cool air
Beams of white light coming out from the moon
Adds to the serenity that’s out there
I hold out my hand to receive a drop
A drop of dew from the heavens above
Tenderly I kiss it and fill my soul
Makes me want to fly with the birds I love
The highest point of the sky before space
Is where I end up, looking at the stars
No other beauty compares to this trip
I slowly fall back amongst the briars
I live meagerly here on this vast Earth
Then I fly again amongst the great clouds
I often go see with the birds up high
Joyously live my days with all that’s proud
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2014
Enjoy the golden harvest moon
That will escape the sky too soon
As autumn's colors fade away.
Listen to the breeze rustle through
The changing trees as bird songs
Echo through the twilight sky.
I am blissfully aware of how
Jasmine scents the evening air
And joyfully I welcome fall.
Connie Marcum Wong
Contest Mixed Senses
September 17, 2015
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015
It is strange
how things that we see
and take for granted
in everyday life
should suddenly instil
in our minds
a new awareness
of their presence
A silent moment
a brief pause
from life's ever quickening pace
a moment of peace -
in times like these
a common thing
like a dried old tree
becomes alive with beauty
It stands like a quiet sentinel
who has witnessed
many an event
Time has passed by
but it remains
silently standing there
What secrets do you store
in your noble branches?
How many events have you recorded
that man knows nothing of?
In your younger days
when you wore your mantle of green
you nested the carefree birds
to their offspring
you gave protection
When the sun scorched the earth
you gave them cool shade
On a cool windy night
you gave them warmth
How pleasant was their song
to your ear
as they sang a song of thanks
You were a playmate to the children
When they romped at your feet
or climbed on your branches
Time grew older
and the children became lovers
You saw them kiss in your shade
soft with the light of the moon
The aura of their love
touched your leaves
and you blushed
they have all gone away
but you still remain
still waiting and watching
How many untold events
have you witnessed
faithful keeper of secrets?
O that my soul could commune with you
and share of your rugged beauty!
Most Noble Tree!
forgive me for my
Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2013
A gentile man of vivid dreams oft apt to walk at night
Followed where his feet would lead under the pale moon light
When chance he did into a grove of oak and alder trees
He spied a pool of nature's own fed by an ancient spring
There upon he cast his gaze beneath the moon so bright
And saw him something oddly fey revealed with second sight
At once belief that made him he who walked where others went
Faded in the mist of myth and planted there instead
A vision of a greater truth not seen, and yet perceived
From deep within the pool of being, liberation to receive
Reflections at the water's edge revealed his truest form
A life he's yet to realize, or a life he's lived before
For there upon this moon lit night, deep in that ancient wood
Where once there was an aging man an ageless raven stood
Twice born of myst beneath the sky, no longer bound by fear
Casting off his worldly flesh, he leapt into the air
He set his course by moon lit ways, a shadow taking flight
Till found he day light's brilliant rays that freed him from the night."
~Christopher Thor Britt
The Everything Halloween Poetry Contest
Copyright © Christopher Thor Britt | Year Posted 2013
Love the sun,
it will shiningly warm you.
Love the moon,
it will milkily moist you.
Love the water,
it will willfully hydrate you.
Love the flower,
it will fulsomely smile at you.
Love the bird,
it will blissfully sing for you.
Love the cat,
it will cordially trust you.
Love the dog,
it will dauntlessly protect you.
Love the koel,
it will kindly kiss you.
Love the river,
it will righteously flow in you.
Yes!If you love the nature,
it will naturally love you.
Copyright © Supraja Kannan | Year Posted 2016
This Blue Moon..
This moon is hypnotizing , this moon knows all Truth and lies
it is a rare moon and filled with questions asked
luminous clouds weaving through , knowing all through existence
showing me there is yet true love in the mist
who else has been captured by the Magic that surrounds this Blue Moon tonight ~
pure light and magic that pulls on your soul , instinctively, when called you will go
with all senses enhanced, romancing you
all that you know
it controls the waters at Sea, as though it instructs all sea life
speaking to the dolphins' and lighting the oceans glow
telling the night owl too take flight and hunt ~
showing a white Owl for the first time seen
this moon is speaking , listening to all prayers
there is more around us, more then the finest of wise Men know
Look at this moon tonight
Tell me now what the truth is
This Blue Moon ..it knows.
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
swaddled in clouds
Published Cattails - Spring, 2016
Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2015
the moon falls west-ward
the tule fog saunters east
summer ends early
puppy petite gold
bouncing around black dog's space
I know you’re in love
Swimming in spring fog
wind plucked guitar string in time
Tule music plays
fog braised Fillmore
ready for full moon to wane
while waiting for Jack
Dreams while Sleeping #2
when I piss in dark
All my prayers are sombreros
night of a new moon
Wake up Calls
first chirp of the morn
different from dog barking
five better than four
some full moon wheeling
search werewolves in the quag
Robin Hood’s fire
Unnecessary Student Loans
lifestyle to uphold
says I to financial aid
just give me the loan
English Dept. Building
walk paper footsteps
through hallowed hollow hallways
tuba bongo blues
like a freight train serenade
echoes in the night
New York Fall
tinged purple and red
nothing to rhyme with orange
rolling New York hills
lock jaw by myself
keep me imprisoned for hours
mumbling into phone
it's raining outside
but I'm frying potatoes
the all-night kitchen
staring at my beer
one blue bird in the rafters
too it's closing time
She has rings and bows
She has glasses full of hours
Honey from the bee
Copyright © Stephen Barry | Year Posted 2015
When Peg laughs like Liz
deep woman-hearted laugh
eating beef jerky on Mesa Verde
the good hearts and smarts of women
come back to me, not guessing
any better than they at the time what love
meant, leaving them behind in sandstone time
going to my own cement, sandstone
or good mountain grave
having seen the sharp-shinned and sparrow
hawk flying and at rest, not at peace,
seeking prey from a ponderosa snag.
I left my woman behind to float
alone down the long canyon for feathers
and signs, she's making camp
the moon half full, the sun half high
sky full of planets birds and stars
I look up from the rocks
love that's learned to love
from earlier loves
laughs remembered, heard
in the laugh of the woman who is my wife.
Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015
The romantic poets were too early to postulate total atheism,
And so freshened up the church by aligning god with nature,
And I believe they had a preference for nature over god or theism,
Because they never posit him as social with high, tall stature.
Keats says that the nightingale exemplifies nature as active,
As bestowing upon all human beings meaning, sense and worth,
Since the bird’s song objectifies how nature truly is effective,
Fulfilled by happiness, and aimed at contentment and rebirth.
Nature triggers in us thoughts and words to settle and allure,
Offers us our language to dispel pain and find the cure,
And Keats contends that poetry, the credibility of its form,
Epitomises what nature proffers, a receptacle rather warm.
When you feel awkwardly suicidal with nowhere else to turn,
Nature lullabies you into your own sense, one you can rip and burn;
No controlled access freeways, no road signs for your safety,
Only soft, quiet communication that's never guilty of brevity.
Just as nature is beautiful, so Keats claims people as beautiful too,
As he uses the word beauty right in the middle of his nature exposé;
He referred to flora, the moon, the stars, the forest and what seems true,
Tnat song of the nightingale that's for anyone, as this bird is not choosey.
He suggests that light or positivity in nature means movement,
That the soft breeze dispels the gloom and mossy pavement;
Quantum physics does reduce matter back down to interactive particles,
In which kinetic energy can be mistaken for minuscule, motionless articles.
His mentor is the nightingale as part of nature’s whole,
No minister or clergyman to advise him on his soul,
Stillness and bird song scent his poisoned air surrounding,
And it is all but for the silence of that beauteous music, astounding.
Nature does not irritate him when he surmises and introspects,
But upholds itself in majestic grandeur with unquestionable prospects;
It speaks about life, your life, your daily happenings and exotic dreams,
And forever exists for us when sense is just not within our means.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015
Before man, there was only twilight upon the earth. The earth was divided by two realms, realms, not kingdoms; one above the earth, the Sky, ruled by the birds. The other, the Land, upon the earth, ruled by the beasts.
In the sky, among the clouds, was a large pile of firewood. How it got there is unknown.
It is believed to be there as a resting place for birds not wanting to rest on land.
One twilight, an enormous eagle dove toward the land. His dive caused an emu on the land to panic, thinking it was being attacked, the emu jumped up and struck the eagle.
The eagle and the emu began a heated argument, then began to fight. The emu, in anger, plucked an eagle feather. The eagle, in its rage, swooped over to the emu nest, grabbing one of her huge eggs in its beak, soared skyward.
As the eagle climbed, he swung his head throwing the egg higher into the sky. The emu
screeched in horror as the egg smashed against the firewood. The yoke breaking, sparked, igniting the firewood, lighting up both realms of the earth.
Suddenly, the earth was bright and beautiful. All were dazzled, but soon relaxed, as the
fire begin to warm. The leader of the Sky saw the light and the warmth it produced as good.
He saw as the fire burned, it produced more heat and comforted all. It also began to
decrease the light and got cooler as the firewood went out. This was a bad thing, he
called all the birds together to gather firewood to keep the fire burning.
As the fire became coals, the light again returned to twilight and darkness.
The birds worked for hours to replenish the firewood.
As they began to pile wood upon the coals, the fire reignited. As the fire got bigger,
there was more light, and warmth.
When the birds had piled on all the wood gathered, the fire again began to decrease in
light and warmth.
Again each twilight, the birds would gather firewood for hours.
After an undetermined time, light and the darkness defined. As the earth warmed and became more beautiful, the realms became one.
The Spirit of the earth saw what the birds had done and what had become of the earth was good. He moved the fire outward from the earth and made it burn all the time.
He made the earth turn. Day and night were created. The birds and the beasts were one with the earth.
The spirit of the earth was pleased. He had created the heavens and the earth, reaching into the earth, he grabbed a handful of dirt in his hands, Smiling, saying all is good, He created Man.
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
Linked Verse ~
Spellbinding moon glow
Luster of radiance shines
Tree limbs vibration settles
As the wind blows through
As the wind blows through
Chimes jingle along the porch
Creating a tune
Creating a tune
Birdsong welcomes the morning
With tender crooning
With tender crooning
Harmony adjusts the air
Whistling fragrant bliss
July 23, 2014
©2014 by Regina Riddle
Copyright © Regina Riddle | Year Posted 2014
i am not a bird whose black
for i am a blackbird
with my lumpy back
turned away from her
the dying moon
shadowing pale blue waters
made this blackbird teary
where as a bird who was black
they'd be dreary
but i felt the dying moon
hover over my galaxy
i soared closer
for a pinch more
i am the last blackbird
facing this mountain
in awe that her final thouqhts towards me were beautiful
she freed the sun
for the sake
of the butterflies flying inside me?
Copyright © Chante Reeves | Year Posted 2010
by the seashore
open your eyes
and you shall see more
of the world's magik
in front of your face
why oh why
would I ever replace
the memory of that foamy sea
crashing onto the shore
while the seagulls are laughing
with the children once more
who feed them with eyes full of wonder
to their curious delight
seashells from dead oysters
shine of the moon's pale sea light
as they mate like the birds and the bees
my sea kisses the sky when it rolls with the breeze.
Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013
Luna flower spread open scented blossom
In response to the full moon's soft yellow glow
So much designed like a Sand Dollar
Amazing the resemblence even with first sight
Humming Bird Moths drawn to the glowing white
The irresistable beauty and appealing scent
Ten were buzzing, humming drinking nectar
From white beauty by only moonlight
Ants were working even at night
Drawn to the goodness that will leave at dawn
Preparing a storehouse of goodness for winter
So that the species can survive to rule summer picnics
That scented sticky nectar must be delicious
Tasting like a very rich clover honey
So sweet that just a tiny amount sweetens
So many slices of simple bread
Amazing the blessings to enjoy from simplicity
The simplest things in life sometimes give goodness
That wealth can't provide
Sometimes wealth has gardens but not enjoyed
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010
Our love two candles
Melting in misty moonlight
Cooing doves cuddle
Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2016
It's a beggar's repentance...
Two swans dance
between the mist and
A sapphire oblivion
rages from the moon.
...with a pocket
full of apologies.
Copyright © red barchettadrive | Year Posted 2015
There once was a whole bunch of clouds
Clouds are not very loud
If you fly through them in a plane
They feel no pain
That’s why they’re clouds
Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013
(Re old poems)
In the middle of
a dream was I when,
suddenly a sound,
which I thought profound,
woke me up at night..
Squinting my eyes,
got up to sight,
bluejay shrill on,
my window sill;
air wrapped in,
a fine mist,
long white trail..
Down swooped the bird,
looping cold rays,
I fell under
Fumbled for my limbs,
wibbly wobbly things;
held fast on the bed,
I was covered in
fine silver cobwebs ...
Form : Diminishing and Advancing Hexaverse
Copyright © gautami phookan | Year Posted 2015
springtime blackbirds serenade
through moonlit window
Eve Roper 7/2/2015
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2015
In the depths of midnight the sky shows off
That which plays within the glows of the moon
Harvest yellow casting down on the grass
Deep in my heart this hallowed soul has swoon
So shocked of this sight, the moon at midnight
Complete with its piece of the raven small
Proudly displayed this clearing beams tonight
And light of the moon fills this space for all
This tender light that shines on such a bird
Brings me in awe and bewilderment fast
I thank the Lord for all his blessings shown
This well-manicured spot found at long last
The last piece of this romance inspired thought
Is her presence, what’s written on a scroll
No harvest moon and no midnight raven
Can take place of the treasure of my soul
Contest: Treasures Of Your Soul
Sponsor: Gail Angel Doyle
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2013
In our distance is our dreamy closeness
In quite fragrant expanse scented flowers
In moon lit sky we seek each other’s face
In Milky Way many restless whispers
The sun sits on the leaves of apple tree
Your face flashes in a nest of robin
The wet grass asks me softly where is she
At the top, hop restless sparrows umpteen
On this side of the sea I breathe empty
On the other side of the great void you
Smelling salted ozone from the deep sea
Go through my poems to feel the pink hue
I write verse to fill my oceanlessness
You inhale in your chest oxygen fresh
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016
I wonder why as night deepens/my heart ponders from the fear
is it because a raven/kept flapping his jet-black wings
flew off cawing in the air/over the moonlight flooded hills
Copyright © Su Ben | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
Light dims in my halo as I am discouraged by the greed.
Wants becoming so desired they are justified as needs.
Why do you prey on the emotions of another?
Smiling in their face like you don't discuss them with others.
Even though I avoid the bs don't think I do not know what was said.
Everything from what I wear, how I act, to the voices in my head.
Why are my words so important to you?
Stop pretending I never did for you and your family when we argue.
One ugly comment after another especially on the topic of weight.
Your words are like poison as you utter nothing but hate.
It's funny how you sit there hanging tightly to ever word.
Trying to call it as you see it but your vision is blurred.
Yes I know you're on here stalking my page.
It is I who feel sorry for you because the ignorant rat doesn't realize it's caged.
Copyright © Christina Hons | Year Posted 2015