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Bird Political Poems | Bird Poems About Political

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

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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 | Ballad |

From The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand - THE RUINS OF THE ANCIEN REGIME

Farewell, then, AUKN boss,
The next this year makes three.
By the time they find a substitute,
Slovenes will be at sea.

He tried to cover his behind;
AUKN boss of bosses,
As every week, balances grew bleak:
He weighed merits and losses.

With all this he'd no time to eat,
And round and round he flew.
And now he's split in a hissy-fit;
So helmsman, too-de-loo!

Day after day, day after day,
He drifted on the ocean;
Guano-vernment rained on his ship
Their suggestions for promotion.

Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Corporate boards crosslink;
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Let's take you for a drink.

Accountants talking rot: O Christ!
Missions, visions - oh please!
Yea, slimy characters need legs
And slimy policies.

So has he done an hellish thing?
Not hired who? We dunno:
Was it absurd, to have a separate curd
From the whey Slovenia owes?
This wretch won't play, after 60 days;
Pissflaps, he'll have to go!

God help ya, gospod Bencina
From the fiends, that plague us thus! -
It's time to go — shot like cross-bow,
The AUKN boss.

Ah! walk-out day! what evil looks
Had I from Ernst and Young!
Who's at a loss? AUKN's boss
Wouldn't take a bung?

"You'll be" quoth one, "abolished - no
Stigma to double-cross."
He chose to go - why? We don't know:
Harmless AUKN boss.

Re-reading the original gave me a great idea for dinner until I realised all the storks have all flapped off to Africa for the winter. Pity, as I have some ancient marinade from Tuš. Like the subject of the poem, I didn't have the stamina for a Coleridge-length effort.

Story: http://www.sloveniatimes.com/total-mess-in-state-owned-capital-asset-management

The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand interprets important Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world. www.maria.si

Copyright © Julian Bohan | Year Posted 2013

Details | Personification |


Blackbirds in the sunshine (are)
Omens (that) fly high in the sky…
Solemnly seizing Martin Luther’s time (of)
Religion and precarious minds…
White men personified lost their lives (without) 
Fear or compromise…

Blackbirds in the sunshine (are)
Omens of their time (were)
Grave to Jackson’s mental denial of the Missouri Compromise…
The Confederate flag yet hangs high.
White men lives personified were of manifold (because) 
Fear or compromise was not a greater source.

Blackbirds in the sunshine (are like)
Eagles soaring high in the sky…
Solemn to Civil Rights time (while)
Ritualizing a political asylum (caused by)
Oppression and incarceration of the mind…
Transition is denied; but oh, transgression defines.
Written March 4, 2016!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |


Arise, you song birds sing in morning dew;
The flow’ry host to colour fields and furrows,
And sap of Spring runs gold in willows veins; 
As tender leaves unfold to speak of birth,
Fresh mountain ranges iced give life anew—
While waters melt and stream through cricks and borrows
The gleams of light will melt the winter strains
Though spills of oil have quenched the songs of earth.
The corporate sting of greedful revenue,  
Has bankrupt natural wonders—greedy farrows
The eagle has no pow’r to save her eggs,
Tall forests fall and crush the robin’s hue
When flow’ry petals change to black on yellow—
The spotted fawns arise with warbled legs

Copyright © J.R. Dawson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

The American Eagle

The American eagle, called bald ‘cos of its pure white head, 
Is named Haliaeetus leucocephalus, from the Greek;
Hali means  "sea", aietos means “eagle", leuco "white", 
And cephalos simply means the “head" with the streak. 

The bald eagle lives near the sea, a river or any such reservoir, 
Any water based freeway as it devours fish, salmon and carp; 
It rests in large, mature stands of conifer trees, 
To feed its young whatever it hunts and occasionally sees. 

America is a nation of the head, and not a land the heart, 
With an independence declaration of a human kind, 
Which points to god only when the universal is pertinent, 
That unifies by raising strength and concern of mind. 

What’s most apparent to me from its wording, 
Is that it seeks to mechanise the human good, 
What’s moral, right, true and honest, 
Such that the outcast can produce and be understood. 

The pure, white head of the American bald eagle, 
Seems to connotate this loud, bold and clear,
And its dark brown body seems to speak, 
For all Americans who aspire from something mere. 

The size of their nests can be twenty metres wide, 
And this can represent the typical American home, 
Which to me, a Scots girl aware of semi-detached abodes, 
Are like football pitches where you can jump and roam. 

The bald eagle was becoming extinct, 
From the 1960s right up until the late 90s,
And as this bird is now proliferous and thriving,
It reminds us that the American Dream is all-including.

It was the symbol of the Great Seal in 1782,
And J F Kennedy referred to its appropriation,
As it symbolised the strength and freedom, forged and died for,
Of the mighty, magnificent independent American nation.

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

The Eagle, the Dove or the Turkey - Which Bird

The Eagle, the Dove or the Turkey: Which Bird?

In January 1784 Benjamin Franklin said,
That “The bald eagle…[was] of bad moral character”; 
Called him poor, lousy and a thief, validated the turkey,
Which, he said, was “a true original native of America."

Although the turkey’s eaten at Thanksgiving, 
And every American should appreciate their life,
It’s beginning to be enjoyed at Christmas time,
About which some religions don't give a hoot, and are not acting.

The dove traditionally signs for peace,
And forever will, all things being said,
And although America is a superpower,
It is not to me, and never will be, the world’s head.

Even though Russia just now is playing with power,
And America may be valid as interacting with it,
The United Nations for me is the force,
To call the shots for how governments should sit.

To me, America, stands for all people,
Any person can emigrate and find a life,
Because its weak and vulnerable are nurtured,
To get a challenge out of strife.

The bald eagle for me, with its wide and large nest,
Should be the symbol of America, with its Great Seal approval,
Because it says to me just anyone has stance,
By that pure white head which its brown body does enhance.

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

building of a empire you

the side hunt of another being distracts from the main goal the bigger picture new blood in the tribe all ways brings new thunder in the lighting storm of a cloud to rest tribesmen warriors questioned on there Integrity coucils held in different ways non
traditoal ways many societys in the past life many crumbles many edgeings craved in stone from past generations in the over all lifeform many civalazations  crumbled before the one being build before the eyes of the laborers the laborers of the temple the foundation of the 
lifeform The structue of which u create for ur self the old carpenters saying mesaure twice 
cut once comes to mind we all might not come out square every mock up but the 
ability to adjust and measure up time and time again to become the master piece 
we all want to become is the test of the builder within

Copyright © Joseph gaydon | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Bird of A Brave Man

Confined in a stiff concrete wall
A box with the window bars
His brand-new residence
The guard took back the handcuffs!
In this concealed house 
Provided a few basics utilities 
Besieged by the cameras 
Will let him endure the breathing. 

Detained in a stiff concrete wall
Blocked off from his compatriots 
Those who have been oppressed 
By the antique monarchy
Those who protested the dictatorship
Called in peace for justice
And the primary human rights;
In a single life!

A bird flew by
Then turned back to encircling
Like they knew each other 
Long time worked together
Wished to boost the unfree friend.
From now on, just the brave heart
Can break over the high wall 
To follow the white dove!

Copyright © Xaysouvanh Phengphong | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

bird of freedom

globalization’s bird of slavery

migrates south for

capitalism’s winter

metamorphasizing into bird of freedom

which migrates back north

singing its tale.

Copyright © John Goodman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Play the Music Loud

Something is fuming inside me
Beckoning me to  break out
Something is raging inside me 
How much I want to shout
Here I am on this heightened rock
watching the silent stream pouring  
water into the fragmented ditch
While the sound of nature engulf me
And balm me with  its will.
Tall trees whose height I dear not reach
Sway gentle and murmur silently 
Forming a protective barrier around me
And the chirping birds intruding on my privacy
with their undefined melody
Everything is green again and tales of 
Yesterday envelope in nature.
Just me alone on this vast stretch 
romancing with the presumptuous wind
While he stand aloof blindfolded by his obstinate will. 
I have seen him somewhere before
He kept shrieking behind my door
Is it Deja Vu or is it something true?
Every now and then I feel something stirring inside me
Propelling me briskly towards my destiny.

Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

The Worm Ate The Bird

When the worm ate the bird
and its body became big
and puffed,
we would never hear the end of it.

When the population
took over from the kings,
it became big and puffed...
Isn't this the trouble with the world?

Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |


            JAIL BIRD

To U.S. born both wild and free
There is no worse place one could be
Than in a prison cell for years
For most men ‘tis a gruesome fear

But to souls in other lands
Where freedom’sjust a word that stands
On paper-- but an object dead--
With it you cannot bake your bread.

In movies in these lands they watch
Thugs whose pants fall off their crotch.
Who off to court they go-- then jail--
No mention made of tears or bail

Third Worlds watch the U.S. cells
That should resemble Dante’s hell.
Instead they look so germ free clean
Like the quarters of a Queen

Luxury in killer's cell?
How can thieves live-- oh so --well
U.S. jail is no bad life--
Well, you might miss someone's wife

As one boss of one small store
Told me-- as he scrubbed his floor:
“Me, I'll fly to U.S. land
Kill some guy and live so grand."

His tune said joke-- but it was not--
(U.S. TV makes brains rot)

But-- twas no secret-- truth could tell
He'd snuggle in Obama's cell.

Victoria Anderson-Throop ©               December 1, 2012

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Trump China Mexico

     Trump China Mexico

Chirp chirp China bird
A little birdie tells us so
US dollars down
Oxygen left the room as well
Trump says China China all the time
And Mexico too to tell the truth
Anchor babies must go back
Take mom and dad with you
And build a wall real high, bye-bye
Make Mexico pay and go away
Trump says Jeb’s job is speaking English
Is that so hard to do?
Mexican is not a language
Cheap cheap is how the birdie speaks
They too must speak in English

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

The Democracy Lark

The sweet song of the democracy lark
Once told of a bright and hopeful dawn
Now there is only a strident bark
And the whimper of sycophants that fawn
And worship the Trump, and his massive wad
Lovers of money, with racist views
Vote for Mammon’s dodgy God!
The democracy lark is singing the blues

© Gail Foster 2016

Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

A Lesson From the Cuckoo Bird

Is there an object lesson is to be had,
or story moral to be learned-
from the frightful tale of the
Cuckoo bird?

A bird that neither plans nor toils
its own nest to build, but seeks
the industry of its neighbor to exploit-
and in its nest an alien egg to lay.

An egg that is left by the Cuckoo bird-
to be brooded and hatched by foster parents-
and the illegal hatchling to be reared-
at the expense of the rightful own.

An illegal chick that displaces the rightful- 
demanding food unceasingly day and night-
until the exploited foster parents usually die-
their vital resources totally exhausted.
It then leaves the foster nest and flies away-
this cycle of piracy again to repeat.  

Copyright © Curtis Forsythe | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Aftermath Again

My son, speaking like a true griot, 
A body of things rejected 
By the sinister profile of language 
Spoke one clear prophecy to the riot's 
Heart, before he from this world was ejected 
He named the bagage 
He carried unbowed in his lineage 
But did not name the bird 
With the cold and ominous plumage, 
Now I wonder if he heard 
That after his hope was long deferred 
He is waiting in sleep for a better world. 
I saw the feathers of the bird 
A vulture sifting the sky 
Over swelling carcases, it was all 
The hurrican had left. 
My son has left more bereft 
Than thousand debacles that this day palled, 
But I will read his last poem again 
Against the cancer of this pain.

Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

Bird Dung of Doom

The prophets forewarned us in ancient words
Of monstrous, metallic, reptilian birds

Igniting skies with a flight of fire:
Below them the smoke of charred Earth will spire.

These death-pterodactyls are coming true:
Their pilots turn bleak the horizons of blue,

Sleek avian avatars, spilling down
Their droppings that cinder the field and town.

The creatures themselves are consumed in flame,
And man is a dinosaur, obsolete-name,

Forgotten as prophesied, slain by sleek
Low-swooping pteranodons, bones-in-beak.

Copyright © Steve Eng | Year Posted 2008

Details | Verse |

Canary Ivanka

Buy your coal mine canary
From Ivanka's Canary Shop
You'll know you bought a bargain
When it does The Canary Flop

Tomahawk missile launches
Ensure a mining boom
So canary songs can linger
Like when Elvis left the room

So buy your coal mine canary
(Ivanka's are the best)
Knowing birds and colliers
Shall find eternal rest!

Copyright © Rico Leffanta | Year Posted 2017

Details | Villanelle |

Villanelle: Kill not Mad Poets the Soul-Blood of Mankind for Emmanuel MACRON

Villanelle: Kill not Mad Poets the Soul-Blood of Mankind
                  for Emmanuel MACRON

Kill not mad poets the soul-blood of mankind
   Better kill gods teacher-preachers saviours
Their words stretch galactic aeons of the mind

Who kills trills of the fine feathered chirping kind
   Never clapping thunder smother lonely warblers
Kill not mad poets the soul-blood of mankind

The Merle Noir maddens the Warbler Subalpine
   Will not the Woodchat Strike tease Yellow Hammers
Their words stretch galactic aeons of the mind

aiOoo loie loieC screEch screEch tWine tWine
   dingk dingk twingK clUt clUt aiOoo sRoothers
Kill not mad poets the soul-blood of mankind

Who but raving politicos seek to bind
   Mad poets lyrical fill hungry beggars
Their words stretch galactic aeons of the mind

Who recalls greed-fed conquests all anodyne
   Blissful mad morning trills drill Orphean Warblers
Kill not mad poets the soul-blood of mankind
Their words stretch galactic aeons of the mind

© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Bird that Sings

Bird that sings without crying
and cries without singing
brings curse to the tree
and to self it reduces life
elders will throw hot charcoal
prayers full of curses fly after it
and it’ll die in the bush
with legs scattered to the skies

Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2017