Best Bird Poems

Below are the all-time best Bird poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of bird poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Bird poems, articles about Bird poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Bird poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...


New Bird Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Bird poems are below this new poems list.

Big Bird Had Been A Buzzard by Horn, James
Lonely Bird by Morning, July
The Lost Bird In The Sky by pachecho, connie
Black Bird by Rodeheaver , Julie Leigh
bird song by parker, cs
Black Bird on My Sleeve by Martinez, Johnny
If My Tongue were a Bird by Song, Gwendolen
Love Bird by Whitmore, Kristina
My Bird A Friend that Flies in the Air by Lee Sr., James Edward
Humming bird by Crismond, Steve

View all new Bird Poems

The Best Bird Poems

 
Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

BLACKBIRD HAIKU

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


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Whispers In The Morning

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


Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017



Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Sea Gulls Came Home

The horizon was brewing ominous clouds,
Dark as if they came out of hell.
The once azure sky became hazy
As the north wind chilly breezes
Puffed up more stratocumulus,
Rain-heavy clouds that signified storms.

I rested against the balustrade
Of the promenade, looking down at the sea.
Waves upon waves dashed at the dark crags.
Sea spray washed my tired face.
Above the seagulls came to enjoy
The thunderstorm that would soon erupt
Above the small bay, now emptied of boats.

The sea gulls were indeed a sight to see.
Only a hundred or so circled the inlet.
They were truly a harbinger of storms.
They flew against the wind, or with it,
Or soared above it, much as they felt like it.
They plunged into the sea for food
Irrespective of where the chilly wind blew.
They were an elegant sight to see.

As the first drops of rain fell, I betook myself home.
My wife was waiting anxiously for me
Afraid I’ll get wet.  “Watching the birds?”
Clearly she was not very much amused.

She turned her back on me, as thunder boomed
And lightening flashed but I went with the wind,
And clasped her round her winsome waist.  
She did not resist, neither did I.

5 June 2017
POTD 6 June 2017


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The tawny Throstle

Trudging under frozen starlit skies
Against stiff Winters bitter blowes...
When ambling up past frosted trees
From the wooded valley down below.

As stepping into a clearing glade,
Surround ragged drifts of thinning snow,
Once Summers haze - long since forbade,
Now pale Moon beams all aglow.

For within this realm of Twilight,
Perched high up in a bush,
Snugly within his feathered form
Roosts a warbled Darkling Thrush.

Stirred from his ruffled thoughts...
Dulcet voice lifts upon still night:
With euphonious notes so sweetly sung -
Poured forth in harmonious delight!

Oh tawny Throstle, nemesis of
Nightingales, 
Did Heavens Choirs ever sound so sweet?
Your scrawny throat of melodious rails -
That kept my lover from her feet!


Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Cry For Wind

Fly so fast, cry for wind
Carry me between your wings
Me, me, tiny, olive skinned
Blood of beggars, blood of kings

Lost forever, never found
Roar your cry across the land
Where the road once walked and wound
Stranded in mountains of sand

Clamp your claws around my waist
‘till my harness groans and falls
You will hold my torso raised
You, impenetrable wall

No giant strong enough to win
Or to grab us from the sky
No demon vile, no sinner's skin
No Cyclops to burn us with his eye

Fly my Harpy, take our dreams 
Kill the bad, the hurt, the sad
Cherish fragile shining beams 
Screech seductively and glad

Fly so fast, cry for wind
Carry me, my love, your wings
Me, me, tiny, olive skinned
You and me are blood of kings

***

March 23, 2017 
Copyright © Darren White


Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Night Owl

Sitting by her open window,
Was a girl deep in thought,
Lost within a book of Poe,
A perfect poem she sought.

With a curious eye,
He watches her pen,
For she gives it a try,
Every now and then.

He will visit her forevermore,
In silent hours of midnight,
Casting his shadow on her floor,
Within the full moonlight.

Mysterious, nocturnal bird,
Calling out to darkened land,
Speaking such wise word,
Which I cannot understand.

I am lonely, I must confess,
It's just you, me and the moon,
You are much like me, I guess,
So, please sing me another tune.

A messenger of death,
Wailing songs of a banshee,
Has my grim reaper cometh,
Was this warning meant for me?

My soul was projected,
In the shadow of a fowl,
A raven I had expected,
Not the silhouette of an owl!



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Moon, The Swan, The Rose

The Moon, The Swan, The Rose


I see an enchanted image that you’ve never dreamed of
With reflections twinkling while dancing on wave drops
Of a dreamy blue lake that is a mirror of one white swan

A dancing beauty with a pureness that blesses this water
She floats like a princess with such an elegance and grace
As splendor ripples through a lens of her divine existence

A canvas painting as one masterpiece beyond compare
As the moonlight manifests a sweet rose in my dreams
Beautiful to desire now that nothing shall be disturbed

Within a frozen memory a brilliant diamond illuminates
As the full moon’s image enters the depths of her soul
And a sad, certain loneliness leaves her spirit exhausted

Arising before my eyes on the wings of angels I see all
Clearly now with an excited, fluttering magical heartbeat
Believe me—that this eternal blue sky is incredibly real

With a golden orb of light colors reflecting so exquisitely
Now as majestic images of God’s Heaven appear above
I see His very image of the Moon, the Swan, and the Rose





Anne-Lise Andresen, Gary Bateman, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 2, 2015 (Unrhymed Tercet)


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Flight of Bebo

Bebo was a bird
who could not fly
He kept flapping his wings 
'cause he knew he must try

There were two other birds 
that were laughing at him
As he was jumping and flapping
up high on a limb

It must be so hard 
to be stuck in a tree
Said, those two silly birds
That were laughing at me

I do not like you
get out of my tree
Don't you have somewhere to go?
Don't you have somewhere to be?

Bebo then said
let me get back to my endeavor 
Or, I'll be stuck in this tree
forever and ever

He knows he's a bird
he eats worms and sings
He just needs a good breeze
to get under his wings

Bebo worked hard all week 
to get into the air
Then he started to cry
Yelling, this isn't fair

With tears down his cheeks
Bebo looked at the sky
He said, I know I'm a bird
so why can't I fly?

The wind then spoke out
and said, It's not how you try
You must climb to the top
You must get really high

Then open your wings
and face into me
I will help you find flight 
just get up there, you'll see

Bebo went to the top
of his lonely old tree
He opened his wings
and, waited to see

The wind then picked up
and, carried him high
Bebo was laughing with joy
'cause now he could fly

From that day on
Bebo was happy with flight 
He said goodbye to his tree
and, then he flew out of sight


Copyright © Roger Horsch | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Butterflies Dance - Whitney

 
~The Butterflies Dance~ (A Double Whitney) The sun is so warm and nice there is cheer everywhere cause spring has sprung one more time and winter so cold is now gone. The robins have returned and the hibiscus and the roses bloom again to my delight Now I see butterflies dance. Dorian Petersen Potter aka ladydp2000 copyright@2012 January.27.2015


Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Bedtime Story

Once, a long ways away, and a long time ago
Lived a wee little man with his silly pet crow;
And once every day, as the sun went to bed
The wee little man and the crow he called Ted
Would go through the woods on a nice little walk;
And while they walked through the woods, his pet crow would talk.
Now, if saying, “Pet crow Ted could talk” twists your tongue,
Just wait till I’m through, and the story is done,
Because Ted tied the twigs of two tall apple trees
To the tips of his toes, and his knobby old knees,
And these twigs made him bounce as he walked ‘round and ‘round,
And he talked really loud while he walked on the ground,
Saying, “Twiddle my fiddles, and tie me a pie,
‘Cause a silly old crow couldn’t fly high as I.”
Then the wee little man said, “You silly old bird,
Just the way that you talk takes the sense from a word;
For if fiddles could twiddle, and pies had a string,
Then ants would walk backwards, and old crows would sing.”
Replied Ted the crow to the wee wizened man,
“Perhaps ants can’t do it, but old crows sure can.”
Then he puffed out his chest, and he cawed cockaroo,
And he sang an old song titled, “How Do You Do?”
“How do you do, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows come by twos, and they perch on the tree?
What do you see, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows throw the cockleshells out on the sea?
Where do you go, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the snow drives the crows from the mulberry tree?
And what do you hear, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows throw the snow on the cockleshell sea?”
But the old man just laughed and said, “Such silly songs
Never croaked such a crow as he hopped right along,
Because ants can’t walk backwards, and crows cannot sing,
Just like horses can’t fly, nor do turtles have wings.”
Now the crow wasn’t happy with what had been said
So he said, “I will sing you another instead,”
Then he puffed out his chest, and he cawed cockaree,
And he sang him a song called, “When Two Turned to Three.”
“When two turned to three, and when five turned to four
Things got much stranger than ever before.
There were two little pigs, and but two blinded mice,
And the two musketeers played with three little dice.
There were five and twenty blackbirds flying in the sky;
And four the little famous boy who never told a lie.
When six turned to seven, and eight turned to ten,
Snow White had six little dwarves with her then.
All the town clocks struck first ten, nine, then eight;
And people were always too early or late,
So they turned it all back to six, seven, eight, nine,
That way we could always keep track of the time.
Now the three pigs are three, and there’s three blinded mice,
And the three musketeers play with two little dice,
And the wee little dwarves number seven in all,
And the clock strikes from one up to twelve down the hall.”
But the old man just laughed and said, “Such silly songs
Never croaked such a crow as he hopped right along,
Because ants can’t walk backwards, and crows cannot sing,
Just like snakes don’t have legs, nor do bunnies have wings.
And with that, the old man put his pet crow to bed;
And till early next morning not a sentence was said.


Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Death Tolls

The atmosphere rings with the bell like calls
of the plover flock, long before they are spotted.
The flight herringbones a grey fedora sky.
Markings of white and coal black weave,
wing-stitched, a blanket maker’s dream.

Sigh makers 	they close on the beach 
at high tide, the horizon shivers      the
sand blanches. These ravishing scavengers
light on the tattered edge of wet to dry,
dawdling with the dead.

Plovers are diminutive scroungers, one-legged
dancers, hopping to the pull of tide, dining on
crab-eggs in black-tie and feathered tails, their
gray skull caps lined with a black brow. 
Sparrow-small birds dress to the nines. 
 
A feast for the birds, fall crisps, crab moltings,
go on for endless miles. September is beginning
and soon winged ones will fly to sunny shores.
The cold Atlantic will moan for the loss of music,
the unstitched sky will part. The avian choir is off 
to the mud flats of Carolina. 


First Published Eunoia Review January 2015


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Silent Hunter

Perched from approaching danger quite at home high up on the tree gazing encompassing the full view of everything around me Listening to the whispers of the breeze flowing through the forest trees Autumn leaves gracefully waltz downward on the woodland floor sea Movement sounds of rustling leaves beneath the canopy of trees Silently I fly spreading my wings striking with my talons wide Down into the world with impact force I snatch my prey with pride 3/17/2016


Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Nature

(The Sun is Out)

I dare to hope and dream, 
Of flowers that never fade
Of splendid and exotic creatures
All living in perfect harmony. 
I dream of tranquil earthly paradise,
A keen euphoric garden of Eden,
Created by my one and true Lord.
Alas that man sinned and now
The garden of Eden is closed.
 
So let us together embark upon a journey,
In earnest search and ardent expectation
Of peace and love and blissful pleasure. 
Let us travel down a mighty river
In a small pirogue, winding its way
Along the fern lined banks
Admiring the cypress and the tall pine trees.
 
The river turns into a valley,
Where mighty willows weep and dip
Their lower branches in the fresh icy stream. 
All around, we smell the scent of flowers,
Butterflies with gossamer wings
Flit untiringly from bloom to bloom
While insects seem to have composed
A lively concert of their own.
 
We hear the music of the song birds,
Especially the multicolored martin pescador,
Finches practicing their fine tunes
to serenade the attractive female mate.
We spy warblers, sparrows, and orioles
Dancing from branch to branch
Or birds of prey soaring over the ancient firs
Trying to catch some unsuspecting fish
That swims beneath the calm surface
Of a smooth and tranquil lake. 

Such magic moments mesmerize our senses,
As we witness the birth of day.
We find ecstasy in Our Lord's creations. 
His wondrous hand enhances nature,
Fascinates our spirit with uninhibited joy
Expanding the joyous hope for all humanity.


Placed 8


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Just A Small Poem For A Friend

         Little blue bird
                         without a name
                                It's you I heard
                                    I play your game
                                       High in that tree
                                    You sing a song
                            And you want me
                  To fly along
             The beach is near
              But stars are far
                  A sky so clear
               And then we are
        Above the clouds
      The clear blue sea
       We sing out loud
           Just you and me

***

May 30, 2017 
Copyright © Darren White


Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Odd Od Dodo

                                         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


Copyright © Maureen McGreavy | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Not The Bird

I can see myself
Outside my window
I'm not the bird on the wire
But the pole on which the wire is strung
With a hundred other cables cut and hung
Limp and spent
Outdated and irrelevant


Copyright © Maureen McGreavy | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Woodstock

~Woody Wood From the Hood~

Deep, inside yourself, you walk a sour way of life,
Carving my name, on every tree with a hunting knife
You log in, then log out
A Birdman So Fickle, he Stinks of doubt!

Blind today, bald tomorrow, 
Big Bird, will be your only friend
I can't seem to forget the day, you shed your final skin
Revealing a darker snake, than the one in my garden
Leaving the word betrayal, up to the imagination 

Trust not the fool, who thinks his halo is heaven sent
Using a fake ballpoint pen dietary supplement
Thinning out his wings, and losing the symbolic meaning

Aging in a way, that spreads crows feet from top to bottom
Sapsucker revolving yellow as if it was always autumn
Pecking Hard Wood, MR Pecker of all woodpeckers 
Forgetting who's the real Home-wrecker

Your dragging pants are no bother, Mr Woodpecker!
I've gotten used to the tree talking and your creative vision
Let's just say, "Gangster to Gangster, I gave you a mission."
Keep rapping and tapping the same old street sign, 
Woodstock, on demand, crap out the peanut punch
Whatever suits you for breakfast and lunch
Don't forget dinner's also about me

Go ahead!
Peck away with deception, reveal your sullen evil feathers  
A disease urine Birdman, doing it snoopy style
A flightless, lightless liar, nothing about him's worthwhile
Keep manipulating the weak, whatever turns you on
I'm not ready to shoot you down with my shotgun

~SKAT~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Whilst walking through the woods

Whilst walking through the woods one day
A crystal brook there, shone so gay
The sun was shining oh' so bright
As brook reflected all it's light

Buzzing insects all around
Oh' they made a delightful sound
Birds flew upwards to the sky
These parrots made a hue and cry

Carpet of flowers with lovely scent
It seemed this morn way heaven sent
The flowers opened to the sun
This walk for me was so much fun

Sheep bleated from far away
Oh it was such a lovely day


Copyright © Vera Duggan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

- A Bird Sings Only When It Is Happy -

  



A white dove flies gracefully across vision
Shines as transparent pieces of ivory joy

I give you a Candle of Love, for inspire and encourage you
Blown gently upon a soft warm lovely breeze 

Falling slowly like a ripe apple 
With sad confusion, I promise you heaven

Everything will fall into place and gives you, perfect pleasure of life
Love whispering on wings fluttering deep

It is possible to change your tomorrow, if you seek your dream today
To watch the light change i pray for your beauty to return

My arms are full of flowers, the beauty the unfathomable grace
Reborn under a promise of color inside the mist bouquet dream 





Written by Liam Mcdaid & A-L Andresen :)  11.04.2015 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I Am An Owl

Who can change what it is to be me?
The owl, hidden there in a night's beauty,
a beauty that most don't even try to see.

I am a deceiver in the shadows
who can show you a different light,
and open your eyes, once closed.

Come nearer. I am not known to bite;
there is nothing here to be afraid of.
Who is just your friend in the night?

In darkness, who will hear my call?
I may be wise for my age at times,
though I never claim to know it all.

My voice is heard; still I go unseen.
Tell me who is magical and mystical,
and yet, all things in between?




Owl: mystery of magic, omens, silent wisdom, vision in the night, deception



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Haiku 69-About The Swan Lake

swan lake a feather falls silently


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I AM AN EAGLE

As father gave the push, my mother whispered, “Fly, my child!”
Resplendent in my feathers, yet was frightened of the wild
unknown for that where I grew up, I had to leave and find
the reason for my wings and claws, and how I can’t be mild. 

The rush of warm wind cushioned me as I took my first flight,
majestic bird who gracefully flew to such soaring heights.
From that day on I fed myself and did my parents proud
for they have taught me not to let the prey escape my sight.

For forty years I roamed the land and soared over the sea,
but then the time had come to make the choice that’s hard for me.
Up on the steepest rocky mount, I went and by my own
removed my brittle beak, talons, and old wings painfully.

Why did I have to go through all the changes and the pain?
Those parts were worn and have become my weakness and my bane.
So now that God has given me another thirty years,
behold me after my rebirth, the eagle soars again! 



*For those who would care to see,this is a 3-min video on the eagle's painful rebirth
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXTrWPvP0iQ

Eagles: illumination of spirit, healing, creation, Divine, Spirit (feathers are sacred healing tools)
PICTURE YOURSELF AS A BIRD POETRY CONTEST - 9th Place
SPONSOR: ANDREA DIETRICH
13 May 2015


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Best Monoku

gathered on the lawn at Sabbath - a chattering of starlings


for the Best One Liner Contest of Silent One


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Great Horned Owl

In the daylight hours, I spend  my time
So high on a perch, in a lofty pine
Where I fluff and comb my pretty plumes
And wait for the rise of the silver moon

I bob and weave on the top of the tree
Watching my world, in dimensions of three
My golden eyes fixed, on the fallen leaves
As I wait  for the night, so patiently

At the set of sun, and the rise of moon
In the Croatan forest, near Camp Le Jeune 
With a piercing screech, I take to the sky
On the wind, with silent wings, I fly

Over forest and swamps, on a winter night
Dipping and swaying like a wind-blown kite
In search of a rabbit, a rat or a bat
Until I find one, there's no turning back

Over Emerald Isle,  and wind-swept dunes
I fly, so freely, neath a silver moon
For miles along the  Atlantic shore
Engrossed in the din of that oceans roar

I hear from a distance, the stir of a hare
And see her dining, on sea grasses there
Her nibbling nose, like a lure, to my eyes
As I, with the speed of lightning, fly

Then swooping straight down, without a sound
I wrap my talons, so tightly around 
The slow, soft beat, of a dying heart
As bits of fur, fly away in the dark

A Great Horned Owl, I'm  a bird of prey
With the wind at my back, I make my way
With the chill of winter, a melt on my breast
I return triumphantly to my nest.

                         ~~~

For contest sponsored by  Eve Roper
Owls Personification 
Placed: 2nd

Written:  February 12, 2016

Elaine Cecelia George, of Canada


Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2016

Details | Bird Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Springtime Song

Mother nature’s songs I cannot exceed 
Of the Whippoorwill out in open field
They partake of mother’s bliss free of greed
Birds and their songs give of mother’s free will

Meadowlark songs of many are preferred 
Though Scissortail flycatchers slice thin air
I favor Mocking bird of which I’ve heard
He sings all bird songs, I desire to sire

Mocking bird songs do surge with bird’s great urge 
Whip-her-Will, he sings at night on the hill
Of Mocking bird songs , be of which I splurge 
Awesome flight as dotted blades of windmill 

Nature,  birds and songs to springtime belongs
Nature’s spring refreshes men with bird songs 

First Contest: Sonnet Me
In honor of: Sara Kendrick
#1) abab, cdcd, efef, gg


Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2011