They come uninvited with no gifts in hand
the strangest assortment of guests in the land.
First is the stray kitty, who won’t let me pet him.
He pulled at my heartstring, the first time I met him.
Next Mr. Raccoon, well known for his thievings.
He is here to partake of the stray kitty’s leavings.
Then Mrs. Possum with babes clinging to her.
I know she is hungry, I just cannot shoo her.
I fill her dish full and she eats it and leaves some.
I am glad there's some left when I see Sir Skunk come.
Here are the bunnies, I throw them some lettuce.
They say, “Thank you ma’am, but please don’t try to pet us”
Down comes a crow to fly off with the bread.
A sparrow awaits for the crumbs that he'll shed.
A humming bird hovers at sweet water feeder.
A ladybug waits but the bird doesn’t heed her.
A slug gets a slice of my apple with peeling.
To salvage his pride, let him think he is stealing.
So this is my list of assortment of beasts
Who depend on my handouts and feed at my feasts.
For Adeleke's "Top Ten" contest
As if it’s not enough that I must share
this little stump of wood with you, my friend,
I have to HEAR you! How much must I bear
before you have me going round the bend?
Although we are the same birds of a feather,
the way you chitter on, I'm turning cuckoo!
I can’t believe we still do things together,
and this comes keenly from my bird’s eye view!
Please don’t be the “little bird that told me!”
Go find another bird that “gives a tweet.”
You’re going to burst my bird brain, Twiddle Dee.
I tweak your beak with one of my clawed feet!
For Francine Robert's Contest: "Enough"
Crow bird sits high in tree.
Crow bird has tale for me.
Crow bird cough.
Crow bird laugh.
Crow bird says he can see
Crow bird calls now sharply
Place far off.
Mountain top.
Crow man waits in my way.
Crow man have much to say.
Crow man sing.
Crow man wings
have now fallen away
Crow man tired, end of stay.
Great Crow teacher gone this day.
The black bird rests in the air
gliding over wasteland parking lot.
His wings flap once, twice
he opens his mouth to cry out
in the cold frigid air.
Glossy dark feathers shimmer
in the white sunlight of winter.
His looming shadow passes swiftly over ground
a contrast to sparkling iridescent snow.
Landing atop a lamp post
haughtily surveying the scene:
His kingdom is littered with remnants of human lunch
and cluttered by boxy cars;
the domain of the raven.
Unblinking eyes stare out into the woods.
His realm safe
he takes wing again, aloft in air.
The regal shape of bird flies off
in crisp sky.
So white of wing swans float the placid lake
On tranquil water's smooth as mirrored glass
A bird soft as winter's first fallen flake.
Nary a sound these graceful birds make
As muffled swish of little feet will pass
So white of wing swans float the placid lake.
A subtle scent of lilies soothes the ache
Of every tiny cloud that helps
A bird soft as winter's first fallen flake.
Sailing past the aspen trees that quake
Surrounding water's edge and verdant grass
So white of wing swans float the placid lake.
Their beauty neither time or souls forsake
And friend's trysts in eyes can not surpass
A bird soft as winter's first fallen flake.
They sweetly glide like bits of looking-glass
With feather whispers seasons can't outclass
So white of wing a swan floats the lake
A bird soft as winter's first fallen flake.
A beautiful bird was soaring up high
and as I watched it adrift in the open sky
that good for nothing bird took a crap in my eye.
I set the feed on platforms
And my feathered friends feast
On thistle and sunflower seeds
My heart sings as the lark whistles
A tune of pleasure
The mockery of the mocking bird
Hoots, cackles and whistles away
my ears are pleased to listen
But something tears the ground with caution
Nine lives and a belly of emptiness
He slithers up the tree
Like a serpant with a wish
And his prey lying open in the field
I watch this happen like a pin dropping
Faster than I can stop
He pounces on the meadowlark
A beast in my backyard And the cries of pain
The cries of terror Are too much for me to bear
He whisks the bird away and feeds on his flesh
And I feed my friends no more
He must have done some horrid thing,
so vile I bet and frightening
because it's hard to fathom why
we shut him in to never fly,
or feel the wind against his wings,
or why the caged bird ever sings!
A sight to see at any age;
this captive beast inside a cage!
Perhaps we think by some degree
he's better off alone than free.
Or if, by chance, we think humane
that he should never feel the rain,
but life of pain and one of scars
behind the cruelty of bars!
Amusement rests not on a stage,
but in some tiny, prison cage!
What if our human lives were one
that never felt the summer sun,
or saw the moon, or chased a breeze,
or fell in love, or glanced the seas?
We take for granted little things
like why the caged bird ever sings!
A sight to see at any age;
this captive beast inside a cage!
there was a bird outside
my house
it went tweet tweet tweet
then the rain came
the brd got wet
oh no oh no
the bird is wet!
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