Bellbirds of South America have the loudest call
Their mating call is the loudest call of them all
In a new scientific study
Blew a toupee off my buddy
Those Bellbirds also chirp with a southern drawl
The dark, drenched forest
was tinkling with tuis and bellbirds,
blind to the ledger book,
the bill of lading,
the glint in the eye of the ax.
Pious settlers wired the land for religion
and switched on the lights.
The natives were dazzled,
but loved the portly man in the red suit
who gave them everything they wanted.
On the Historical Society outing,
we struggle for footholds
in whirlpools of organized ennui,
clutch at the slack rope
that cordons off irrelevant ancestries.
‘The end is not nigh,’
the Dom-Post tells its readers.
Doors are bolted against the wind,
the tick, tick of the electric fence
around eroded pastures.
First published in Southern Ocean Review
Slowly spring sun caresses the land
As kowhais will softly provoke
Flushes of yellow to gently expand
Their buds of the season uncloak
Helping bellbirds escape from winter’s last choke.
Methodical beats of wood pigeon wings
Whoosh thru the quiet spring air.
Melodious trills as tuis’s sweetly sing
Fantails flitter, with hardly a care
While bush robins cheekily dare.
Fragrance of earth sweetens the breeze
New lambs adventure and race
Dragonflies linger, then floating past trees
Whio dart up the river with grace
My core just idolizes this place.
I climb up the mountain out of the trees
A kea, the comedian of the highland flies past
Does a sharp turn, lands on a boulder to tease
It’s green, blue and red feathers contrast
Their intelligence and pranks unsurpassed.
Day turns to evening; a morepork issues its call
A mournful sound that echoes the night
I descend in the darkness at the pace of a crawl
Then the hoarse cry of a kiwi just out of my sight
I'm relaxed. One day with the birds and I’m no longer uptight.
For info on these birds www.nzbirds.com
The burble and the murmur, the trickle and the seep,
Alas all the beauty of this meandering bush creek,
From the moss green rock jutting out acting as my seat,
The water gushes past the obtrusion of my feet.
The escarpment offers precipice and that of crafted stone,
Tranquility rules the mountain gorge as I sit alone,
The tinkling sound of bellbirds run echoes round this nook,
A fluttering yellow butterfly comes by to have a look.
The trickle and the gurgle of this pristine mountain stream
Jumping over shimmering pebbles, I feel so serene,
Broken only by the swish of playing platypii,
And a gasp of breath of such clean air as I deeply sigh.
I travel 'long the winding track
Seeing mostly green, but a tree trunk black,
The orange and brown of a falling leaf,
It settles and nestles to a bush beneath,
A rocky outcrop where the wallabies bound,
The hidden tinklings of bellbirds sound,
A wispy fog emerging from a gorge,
Enveloping sheer cliffs that wind and rain forge,
It feels so good my walking track,
Although often away it always beckons me back.
Yellow crops of sandstone,
Jagged mountain peak,
Red display of waratahs,
A meandering bush creek.
White display of flannel flowers,
Bottlebrush with orange cones,
Beautiful fronds of tree ferns,
Blue gums with crafted tones.
A frolicking roll of mountain mist,
An ancient windswept cave,
Green moss upon the velvet rocks,
Falling gum leaf gives a wave.
The tinkling sounds of bellbirds
Run echoes round the stream,
A yellow-tailed cockatoo
Circles back to where it's been.
The buzzing of a bush-bee
Comes from near a fallen log,
A croaking sound pervading
It's a golden striped tree frog.
This bush display persistent,
Wallaby nibbles grass nearby,
A lyrebird shyly into view,
Kookaburras sit in branches high.
The melodic sounds continue,
Chirping birds with colored plume,
Gorge of coolness calling,
Mountain gully, nature's loom.
kidscomedypoetry.com.au
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.