Best Bird Poems
I wonder about her
as I shave suet and place thistle seed down -
once again
she reveals herself to the corner of my eye
a slight movement caught in the slant of a sunray
just enough to separate her shy form
from leaf litter camouflage
I turn to look at her
demure and just out of reach - yet
she seems to know I feel for her..
I regard her presence for a handful of heartbeats
before she hastens away in a certain way
head moving forward first then feet catching up
..rustling the earthy rust of gold;
fallen maple stars strewn beneath an arborvitae row..
a wing hanging down by her side
like a gate with a broken hinge
her gateway to freedom gone
she’s become a body bound to soft soil -
flesh and bones destined to feed the trees of life
soon her feathers - like thistle down - will animate aloft
weightless in soulful breaths of a swirled November wind..
pearls of muted beauty lost in innocence
given back to the skies
I wonder about the tender fragility of a tomorrow
in an air where mourning coos
are watered down by whimsical tears of gods
and stirred by a mortal’s yearn for return to natural flight
I commiserate with her silently —
for I am broken too
Susan Ashley
November 17, 2020
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Brian Strand No 1175
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ Second Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 17
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Far away in a
land torn with war,
she looked for a home.
She was not as pretty as
doves adorning lush gardens,
as exuberant as ducks to play
with,neither as useful as pigeons
in war. The lonely little cuckoo
flew from burnt trees to desolate
orchards. A black bird with yellow
spots on her feathers that other birds
found ugly. She looked for a home where
she'd be accepted for who she was. The
world hurled poisonous arrows at her.
Wounded, she fell in a garden waiting
to die until two little human hands
cocooned her. A girl nursed her agony
and made her feel loved. All her sorrow
began to melt and pour as rain on the fiery
land. She cried with her heart, her honeyed
voice, never heard before. The little girl danced
in joy and kissed her wings to let her fly but
little cuckoo sang to a world lost in pain, her
music blooming pink buds, rushing through
blue rivulets, swaying branches with
soothing wind, caressing parched souls,
raising spirits of warriors with hope.
She stayed for love, ecstatic
at her newfound lilac tune.
She'd found home
in a land
torn with
w ar to dr en ch
it wi th h e r
di vi ne s o ng.
July 11, 2020
Bird Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
~Winner: 1st Place
~Poem of the Day: July 13, 2020
~Ranked #3 in Best New Poems for July 2020
“and the birds twitter like whispering violins”
Quote by – Constance La France
Whiffs of fragrant breeze propagate tranquility
Kissing delicate roses, blushing amber beauty,
Rustling leaves of willows, as if tenor of music,
Swaying blades of grass shimmying moods of winds,
Sounding lyrics esoteric echoing voice of spring;
Humming softly to rhythms of dancing daffodils,
Quivering golden rays peeking through trees,
Burbling on rivers, rippling giggling tributaries,
Fluttering in glee, whispering to sunlit prairies,
Swinging tender revelry lilting in shadows,
Thrilling meadows budding through wintry throes,
Reviving weary realms, thriving withered knolls;
Grinning from mountains, atop lush valleys,
From shores of Pacific to shores of Atlantic,
Through the mighty Rockies, across Great Plains,
Lyrical, jubilant, exuding aura of happiness,
Enchanted by sweet ballad of robins’ daydreams
Strumming melodies of mellifluous spring.
May 16, 2023
Placed 2nd: Writing Challenge A quotes – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Placed 8th: Brian Strand Premier Contest
F l y i n g
a sailing tailwind
in cerulean streams
through creamsicle colored beams -
are wings reflective of turquoise truth
and white purity
of Autumn’s ether -
he aviates
a clear troposphere
riding an unbridled
capricious and combative
boreas
on the cusp
of a new season
with a plumage infusion
of shifting Cape Cod skies
the blue jay mixes hues
with the Northern azure
that fades to shades
of turmoil
to the South and East -
becoming lost
in its milky breadth..
its lilting light..
its dimming depths..
where the edge of rustic rural
meets the sandy ridge of conifers - crooked
twisted and back-bent
from gales
of salt-sprayed sorcery
bold bluster
leading the charge
of a cold sapphire crest
is bedeviled
by the raw
tongue-lashing spin
of a brooding onshore flow
twirling
a brewing brawl -
whirling
in slate pearlescent space -
s w i r l i n g
with the dusky feistiness
of stormy petrels..
mobs of darkening fog
fatten
on summer’s fainty surrender —
leftover tints of tender cornflower
and hints of dainty dove..
there’s a sparkle
in the eye of the storm..
his mischievous black gaze
mirrors
the harsh harbinger
of commotion
clash and change --
his piercing “jay-jay” jabs
the maddening mayhem
of menacing air
with the emerald-needled sharpness
of wind-weary pitch pines
anchoring
the beige of coastal dunes
where his refractive blues
take cover
in colorful contrast
ahead
of the bruising
October nor’easter
In my little garden, balmy blooms are on display.
My purple Zinnia wears the crown in August sun
attracting tiny Hummingbirds and butterflies.
Ripe golden mangos blush with scarlet hues
so lush and juicy sweet…a favorite fruity treat.
Cooling ocean waves lure swimmers to the shore.
School begins, a sigh, it’s just August once more.
8-7-22
~First Place~
JUST AUGUST Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
Do not build a ladder
when I fall into the abyss
I did not call for climbing
The thorn in me
is not a riddle to be solved,
nor a window begging repair
I am thunder — not your project;
I am rain that needs witness,
not your umbrella
When I say I’m drowning,
do not throw me ropes of reason
Let me sink into your silence
weightless unrescued
yet unalone
Be the shore that does not move
as my waves thrash
and settle
My pain is not a puzzle.
Don’t match it to your pieces.
It is a wild bird
let it wheel
let it scream
let it land
without your cage
on wild earth and
broken branches.
You see my storm
and lash advice like scaffolding,
but I need someone
to taste the chaotic torrent
to say yes — it bites,
yes — it burns,
not someone who murmurs
“you should have stayed inside”
To love me is to shhh,
to hold space as sacred
to hear with your cells
not just your ears
What courage it takes
to offer no answer
to let me erupt
without stapling my wings
Let me weep
without shame.
Let me unravel
without thread.
Let me fall
and do not sweep
the pieces away.
These fragments
are not failure;
They are a kind of scripture
not trash,
but story,
etched into the fabric of my being.
Only when your stillness
echoes louder than your words
can I hear myself return
Only then
can I stitch up with cat gut
and name it healing.
And when I rise,
not fixed
but found,
I will turn toward you
not to repay
but to remain
to share this journey
And then I will listen deeply.
Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine
Greeting new sun, spanning over vast sea
Wailing upon hills, watching freedom shine
Sprinkling over prairies echoes of glee
Greeting new sun, spanning over vast sea
Sailing air on pointed bills and webbed feet
Sprinkling over prairies echoes of glee
Grabbing fish, hunting crabs, feasting on treat
Sailing air on pointed bills and webbed feet
Circling green oceans, conquering blue sky
Grabbing fish, hunting crabs, feasting on treat
Reigning winds, above the cliffs, thrusting high
Circling green oceans, conquering blue sky
Traversing sunlit designs, boasting zest
Reigning winds, above the cliffs, thrusting high
Flaunting flexing wings of enchanting quest
Traversing sunlit designs, boasting zest
Glancing marigold scenes on amber arc
Flaunting flexing wings of enchanting quest
Eyeing gilded tides where golden rays spark
Glancing marigold scenes on amber arc
Wailing upon hills, watching freedom shine
Eyeing gilded tides where golden rays spark
Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine
December 10, 2019
Placed first: Seagulls poetry contest; Sponsor: Eve Roper
Ten syllables per line (howmanysyllables.com)
Placed 2nd: Strand special 9 by Brian Strand
Placed 2nd: Your best December poem poetry contest by John Hamilton
Spring Flowers
Opal open clouds let raindrops freely fall
Coaxing coy blossoms of spring to bloom.
Fragrant sweet scents permeate the air.
Snow drops begin the parade as they appear.
It is believed that snow drops originated
When an angel breathed upon a snowflake.
The pansy’s bright *French face in viola shades
Were known to represent a lover’s pursuit
And remembrance of his loyalty and love.
Scilla Siberica with their nodding blue-bell like
Flowers feature a Royal Horticultural status.
Their faint fragrance and hues mesmerize.
Let’s not forget the flowering trees swaying in
Spring’s bucolic breeze where cherry blossoms
Seize our eyes in pink or white with such delight.
Song birds sing their sonorous songs with joy
As snow melts into rivers flow and waves goodbye.
New birth, harbinger of hope arrives in spring.
3-12-22
Spring Showers or Spring Flowers Poetry Premiere Contest~Nineth Place~
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
*The word, pansy is derived from French
language and means ‘thought’.
My thanks to Wikipedia for the photo:
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/38/Scilla_carpet_Alnwick_gardens.jpg
Idyllically Odylically Odd I Be
Such is my nature
It is who I be
In an unnatural world
Flapping upstream
I am ruled by the Ods
Not this man made dream
Not a slave to the sway of society
Long labelled weird but "in a nice way"
I am apparently odd
And so odd I will stay
As I find more in common
With birds and trees anyway
For like feathers and leaves I am
Swayed by the breeze
Roots in the earth
Love of nature my wings
Beauty surrounds me
I live it every day
Yes idyllic
And odd
Like a
Dodo
I be
Being an Od bird is okay with me
(even if that means going extinct)
17.05.12
Composed for Broken Wings'
Form O-Only One Contest
beautiful blackbird
chirruping the sweetest songs
morning has broken
Poem inspired by this wonderful Beatles song sung in Scottish Gaelic by Julie Fowlis
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0MzetQfKwbE
05~20~17
Oh! How like you, I long to be a singing lark
Who in the blue firmament like a tiny speck
Remains invisible, drowning the air in music sweet
Rising higher and darting up with movements slick
In our ears, your song falls like peals of chiming bells
In clear crystalline notes on this radiant day so bright
Why do you stay unseen in the far fringes of heaven?
Oh! Come out from the heights that blur you from our sight!
Are you warbling of love in inextricable lays
Or chanting hymns to the God of greater heights
Diving up and down like a mysterious sprite
Are you trilling of the charms of enchanting sights
Soaring and swaying like a flitting dot of light
You ascend higher and higher to dizzier heights
I guess your wings brush against the sailing clouds
As you reel round and round in ecstatic flights
Have you bidden farewell to the verdant groves beneath?
Have you flown for good from your woody nest?
Why do you dwell in the heights, solitary and alone?
Are you cruising into the wide blue yonder to seek a haven for rest?
Hovering over unseen, you pour out melodies sweet
That fills our gloomy hearts with euphoric delight
Sweeping away from weary minds all sullen thoughts
And flaming our souls as blazing beacons of light!
June.14. 2022
Placed Second
Poetry Marathon Mile.1.Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mark Tony
...to the finessed fowl
humming by my ear tell me
Did anyone ever tell you
just how glad they are
to have you here?
Poignant eyes, azure crown,
that lightasapenny frame...
(how monstrous we must appear!
our human eyes like soccer balls)
We have only God to blame...
...and our senses to thank
for perceiving such a lovely scene
right here in our midst:
organic motors in a danceswirlblur,
taking quicksips of wine
through a toothpick straw
(do I need to make a list?)
Well, how about this:
pleasantly economical,
tenderly blue-breasted,
(quicker than a shuriken star?
you guessed it!)
And O how I would shield you
from anything that came your way
My palms would be your perch...
My fingers be your bars...
But alas, none such as you,
could ever be cast into a cage
(for the angels would rage!
and even the most committed readers
would surely turn the page)
But rest assured
I wouldn't dream deprive you of your feast
of purple watermelon splendor
(those pretty pearls of amethyst
are yours to conquer!)
O Caffeinated Contraption...
O Sweet Dream of Buzzing Thoughts...
You could be crushed like a pop can
at the flippant cruelty of man...
...but who would dare?
blasphemy to merely think it,
'twould be an acceptable breach of free speech
to burn the words that expressed it
(fly free, oh sweet heresy,
into the ashen breeze)
"There's nothing more beautiful than you."
said the God
who placed each feather in
with such gingercare
and thoughtful pause--
(His Cosmic Hands caught
in the Avian Lego Jar,
smirking at the plasticity
of His own laws)
Effervescent elation arises and dances to ancient echoes; the rhythm of the drums heartbeat.
Champagne notes bubble into the night sky; night music of Gaia’s children is music to my sleeping ears.
Ethereal flutes singing to the crickets,
usher me into the dreamtime and there I awaken;
an ancient being, I heed the call.
I drum along; wings beating out the chorus;
I dance in skies of cotton white fluff.
Drums intensifying, crescendo as,
Native Voices sing my name.
I am king Thunderbird and my subjects saluting me…
music to my ears.
Written 2-14-19
My precious chimney swift
Envy alone
Has named you so mundane
Tethered to the slightest pause
Amid your life upon the wing
Describing you as drab
Cigar shaped
And flying like a bat
While within me
Your beauty burns
And I thank you so for that
For from my human complications
The conditions of my sin
You do so delightfully
Delightfully distract.
Whispers in the morning
trying to find your way
listen to the bluebird
and what she has to say
The notes are soft and gentle
every one is played for you
the sounds of sweet ambrosia
her feelings ringing true
On painted limbs of sage brush
there's a stillness in the air
love beads are melting
and the bluebird disappear
Whispers in the morning
what once was there is gone
empty is the meadow
off has flown her song