Best Animalsbeautiful Poems
My friend had a beautiful bird and Bentley was his name
He was a little cockatiel and he liked to play a game
Where he'd undo a charm bracelet,throw it all around
He'd say his name so loudly then he'd make a giggling sound
She got another cockatiel,a smaller one than Bentley
"Pretty boy Bentley"he'd yell out and look at you intently
She had to name him Shadow for he was a bit confused
He mixed up his identity,his own name he refused
I never was a bird person but these two were such fun!
They'd sometimes fly around the house and have us on the run
Chatterboxes both of them they had alot to say
Like"howdy,whatcha doin',good morning" and "no way"
I tried to teach them my name but they would have none of it
They would say"hey good lookin" so I learned to rise above it!
By Deb Wilson
**for Beautiful Birds Mini Blog Contest
sponsored by Constance~A Rambling Poet~
-
One morning a female pheasant descended for love
She struts her stuff outside my patio door
Eager in her search and apparent in her end game
Feathers of grey brown and flecked in blacks but drab over all
Then a beautiful cock appears beside her unaware of me
Plumes of crimson red autumn browns and blacks and whites for feathers
So beautiful compared to the female gal
They study each other and fret and back away and in again
She does not want to give in for now
She stands still finally and does not move
He circles her in a one foot radius watching her lack of movement
He cranes his neck under her beak and continues to circle for half an hour
He circles and circles but something tells her no and finally she refuses
She walks away in to my rough grass to the back of the house
He thinks she is in the grass but I notice she immediately went through the hedge
Gone for good he stays in the rough grass another six hours searching in vein
Bucky was a gentle soul,
The first horse I ever rode.
A beautiful palomino cross,
Perfect size for a six year old.
He knew I was a novice,
His demeanor was so calm.
No matter what else was going on,
Bucky, you couldn't alarm.
I'd have to climb the nearest fence
Just to reach his stirrup
But once upon his solid back,
Off we'd go , giddy-up.
Round and round the paddock
Bucky and I went,
Learning to ride this gentle soul,
It was time well spent.
One morning as the snowflakes fell
We arrived at the stable to be told
That an offer had been made
And beautiful Bucky had been sold.
The stable had many horses
So there were others I learned to ride
But none were like the first one,
The one for which I cried.
I never learned to ride a bike.
I had no interest, you see.
From the time that I was six years old
There was only one kind of riding for me.
for Constance's Horses or Snowflakes, or Horses and Snowflakes contest:
Bucky, by Francine Roberts 07/10/2010
topic: horses (with a touch of snowflake thrown in)
(Monchielle)
Let wild horses run free
In mountains let them be
Release them let them go
Stop killing these horses
They are so scared you know
Let wild horses run free
Don't divide mom from baby
Wild horses to be free
Let them run in mountain
Don't take freedom away
Let wild horses run free
Let's join voices help horses
Take them where they belong
They truly need our help
Selling these horses wrong
Let wild horses run free
Since small I love horses
I grew up watch them grow
Mustangs are beautiful
They're unique smart you know.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2009
September 24,2009
To read more about these magnificent horses and I really
hope that you do and can help them somehow to.
Follow the link right here below.I got it from CNN.Thanks.
I appreciate it, we all really need to advocate
and do something about this very important
and beautiful animals.
http://thecloudfoundation.org/
I wonder what they are thinking
A beautiful spring morning
The first sun to shine forever and a day
Awoken from their glorious slumber
To find us
Eagerly waiting for some display
'Come on lads
Its showtime
Another round to do'
But somehow its not like that
Today, they wake gracefully
As if knowing this is not a curtain cue
With quiet grace
They all awaken
Somehow aware they can be
And in quiet grace
They somehow become themselves
Infront of you and me
The monkeys eat their breakfast
Glance at us
And almost invite us to their dish
The golden eagle
Needs not do nothing
Its beauty is simply too beautiful to miss
The owl seems happy for company
Awake from slumber
It turns it head with inquisitive eyes
It plays with us
For a little while
He is the therapist, the one so wise
To find them so free
So quiet in this early morning
When crowds have yet to view
Have found them
In their natural morning
Just for me and you