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Bird Son Poems | Bird Poems About Son

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

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Details | Lyric |



                             The Apple PASTURE

Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.


Copyright © JAY JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

The march of the penguins

The little penguins march along the ice
Battling against them
The might of the long winter’s crisis 
The small ones under their mother’s bellies they crawl 
Into a world of cold, their eyes opened
Marching weeks and months 
Just to find
Some miracle rough food
The mothers and children stay 
The fathers leave
Walking and marching for miles
And in between 
The Crisis changes into the worse
Where the large bird descends 
Toward the small penguins
The ones who have mothers
Run to them 
While other shield themselves
By squeezing tightly together
As the merciless bird strikes
Some mange to run 
While finally one is caught
In the ugly beast’s claws 
And eventually gets eaten cruelly…
And when the dads come
Some find their sons 
While others
Just endure another crisis similar  
And for some
The dad recognizes his son 
By his or her song
And beautifully they unite again 
The father, mother, son
Together, proud and remarking 
How beautiful their son is 
And patiently the season changes
Summer comes, the ice melts
In the water they splash and swim 
Day by day 
All of the small penguins
Grow up
Their parents leaving them to a path of their own 
They march again 
How significant and enduring 
I can’t describe how
A penguin really suffers…


Copyright © louzana nubani | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain |

Lament of The Old Man

No sooner was the old man dead
did the crows gather round his bed,
and no sooner had he shut his eyes
did those vultures revel his demise;

As soon as all the birds were fed,
the candles out, the taste of dread
was spread on wings across the skies
as his soul flew and my soul sighed.

Copyright © Paul Allen | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |

Look To Your Queen Beatlemania And Your Bird Can Sing

You've got everything
Money and bling, king
But you don't own me
But you don't understand me
Don't understand me

You say that you are great
Have visited many states, king
But you don't love me
You don't love me

When your money and bling
Starts to wear you down, king
Look to your special queen
She'll be your crown
Be your crown

When your money is rusted
And strength gone
Look to your special queen
She'll be your crown
She'll be your crown
Be your crown

When you've tried everything 
Money, cars , and planes
And your queen is here
She'll be your crown

(When I looked this up, I found some interesting facts about this song(original lyrics).

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain |


The name Mahatma Gandhi is synonymous with truth
But he was not an epitome of truth by birth 
His mother Putlibai had had strong religious faith
Unless and until rituals completed, she used to hold breath 

She also practiced the sacred "Kokila Vratha" - a vow ritual
She would wait for the call of Kokila - cuckoo - before breakfast
To have breakfast, such call of the cuckoo is vital 
One day she waited for a long for such call but steadfast

Young Gandhi couldn't bear such of her strain
He gone out of the house and imitated
like the cooing, the way the cuckoo used to entertain
Then persuaded mother to eat, as if he had never acted

Instead she slapped Gandhi as if an arrow pierced her heart
She wailed,"What a great sinner am I to have begotten 
such a wicked liar as son, Oh Lord!" as she knew his act of covert 
On seeing her eyes with tears, young Gandhi was profoundly bitten

Deeply moved by her words, Gandhi made a promise 
to her: "In my life, henceforth, I will not utter falsehood"
Thus mother molded a new Gandhi, to firmly raise
Even with troubles and turmoil, like rock he stood

There are numerous events to adore Gandhi sticking to truth
With stern and unyielding morality, he made his mother more beautiful
"As is the seed, so is the plant" is a fact and not a myth
Only such lesson scissiled Gandhi to remain forever truthful !

Copyrights reserved by Mr. V.MUTHU MANICKAM

Copyright © V.MUTHU MANICKAM | Year Posted 2017

Details | ABC |

The Delirium Of Dedalus

Dark spinning avius, fly into the sun
Icarus, Icarus, hold! Here we come
Upon the soaring black wings of life
To snatch my son from the Wave
To snatch my son from the grave
From dancing to the eternal fife,
Icarus, Icarus, hold! Here we come
Dark spinning avius, fly into the sun

Copyright © Hibah Shabkhez | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ballade |

In the Garden

A lovely bird 
Of brown, in the garden 
Once lost in the field of grieves 
Has picked up the threads of life 
Now her mind rejoicing
Enjoying the last hour 
Of summer joy

A lovely bird 
Of brown, in the garden 
Humming songs 
Of olden lullabies 
While, happily breast feeding 
The exact replica 
Of mine

A lovely bird 
Of brown, in the garden
Staring the fruit of eternal love
His purple-violet like color of skin
The jolly, warmth of his flesh 
And sweet smell
Really, the pride of her beauty

A lovely bird
Of brown, in the garden
Where her evergreen angel’s trumpets 
The arrival of heir to the silvery quill
Whisper my name to the passing wind
As I came, to embrace them
With love and care 


Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2006

Details | Verse |

To Go On

If you see a hawk
on a bough at field's edge
beyond the corner you should have turned
maybe it's a sign to go on.

Such as during an improvisation on
Flamingo or I've Got You Under My Skin
you play in the wrong key or mode completely
maybe it's a sign to go on, in the wrong key.

Or when my sons cry not wanting
to be alone, I'm upstairs writing
or just enjoying trees in every direction
it too may be a sign to go on alone.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2017