Best Bird Food Poems
They said how she ate was absurd;
A "Fatso", they called her she heard,
And ever since then
That poor, baby wren
Just pecked at her food like a bird.
8.31.18
Contest: Any Animal or Creature Limerick
smart v formation
departing south for winter
food for the asking
10/27/2014
I see a pair of Pink and Greys
They fly on by my way
They seem to be so filled with health
To me they do have so much wealth
They're so majestic in the sky
As I see them flying by
And when they land upon a branch
It really puts me in a trance
Trays of seed I have for them
On which upon they land
Such a lovely sight to see
I could almost feed them from my hand
I love to see them feeding there
As the seed these two birds share
Soaring and swaying over craggy hills
How I long to be the mighty eagle.
Best when my strong wings stretch
And gliding, searching for food
To feed the miniscule fledglings.
After verdant resurrection, green leaves
Come to life, yet birds hide from
His majestic lofty strong eagle.
Pity the small ones could not stop
Their mellifluous lark-like songs.
Unfortunately small rodents are short sighted.
Along the placid lake rodents friskily run
In and out of the sedges. Food is now near.
I feel a blockage has occurred...
It must have been all that stuffing and Turkey bird...
The gurgles, the rumbling, the passing of gas...
It’s beyond my control ,Oh dear, please let this pass...
We have guests you see...
So I don’t have the privilege to just get up and flee...
No one should ever be in this state...
And I should never have put so much on my plate...
Cause now I’m paying and to my demise ...
The rite of passage has been denied...
I feel like I may blow up and explode...
It’s times like this when you miss the commode...
Cool water teases and tickles my toes
Whilst a warm summer breeze gently blows
I sit here silently on the sun kissed wooden pier
Somehow the ducklings know that I’m here!
Mummy always gives me a big bag of bread
So I make sure every duckling will get fed
They quack and splash in the water so blue
I love to watch them feeding, I really do!
The ducklings gather round me patiently waiting
Food in their tummies they are all anticipating
I try to throw the bread far out to sea
The ducklings quack ‘that piece is for me’
Soon the bread is gone, they have eaten every crumb
Still they gather round me, but now my task is done
It’s time for my dinner now, so I tell them I must go
But I will return again tomorrow, I hope the ducklings show.
Contest Feeding the Ducklings Sponsored by Eve Roper
05~04~16
a giant krill ball
attracts whales seals sharks and birds ~
a feeding frenzy
Written 23 May 2019
For writing challenge 3, May 2019, Nature haiku poetry contest.
Sponsored by Dear Heart.
The Seconds grew impatient
As Anticipation aimed its dart
Hope sat erect at the table
Compliments practiced their parts
Breaths were held as the Chef pirouetted
The Piece de resistance proudly poised
Triumph on a smooth, sleek glass surface
To the accompaniment of Merriment's noise
Paradise was but a dimly lit candle
Beside the Pheasant's brilliant blue flame
Exclamations burst forth midst salivation
The Proud Bird had earned Highbrow acclaim
A long hot sunny day
The sky blue not cloudy
A perfect day for a walk
Two couples stroll in the woods
They both had a picnic lunch
Ready for when they are hungry
All the birds were full of song
Nature was around them
With all sorts of trees seen
Some standing tall dead
Others were coated with leaves
There were fallen branches
All spread onto the ground
The path was hilly
Onward they walked in
They came to the end
To the forest path
They saw a beautiful lake
It was here they enjoyed
a picnic lunch
A great day well spent
To be near the water side
Swaying trees
The rays of the sun
The taste of cherry ice cream melting on my tongue
Tropical beaches
The ocean spray
I want nothing more- than a tropical day
Coconuts in my hand
While I lay in the sand
Hawaii is my favorite place
* This is the continued story from my Haiku ...Where is my food? About Woody the Woodpecker.
So, hungry Woody the woodpecker was yelling at the empty feeder for food:
Clearly that day, he was not in the greatest mood!
I was held up with a health issue, so a friend went to buy the suet block
I am not sure what happened, but he picked a box of many in stock!
Then, the cashier couldn't ring up the bar code, you see...
And imagine this...gave this long box to my friend for free!
I was surprised I ended up with a box of 12 suet blocks inside!
So no worries now, Woody has plenty of food to replace outside!
He talks a little different tune, when he arrives with food there too
- I take that as a happy Thank You -
Heidi Sands
11/3/22
in dire unison
famished hatchlings performing
same old tune for meal
I am a Date Palm. Winds may threaten, bend and
and snap back my trunk; nests between my frondy
bonnet yet remain firm -- from me, the palm, feathered
survivors have learned, resilience; and the selfless nature
of lofty giving. Dates ripen, young chirping for their meal.
Mothers not having far to travel. One can say, I am bed
and breakfast service. No need to call and wait for market
delivery. Lookout of the desert, mast and sail of the sandy
dunes. When comes the wind I whistle a nurturing tune. Such
music both lullaby and grateful prayer. Proud member of Club Oasis.
In
my backyard
are songbirds
aplenty
I feed them
raisins;
And
sweet berries
but they like worms better
with spiders
to crunch;
But
cold winter
brings out murders
for today, a songbird killed
a fat mouse
way too big
to carry home!
__________________________
November 11, 2019
Poetry/Light Verse/A Songbird's Diet
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1197-545-02
All rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for FTI Blog Series 25 - Food
Brian Strand
Honorable Mention
I sip compliance from a cardboard cup. Tight fine steel lines, hoist five lifelike life sized paper mache white swans. The birds seem to wing from sunlit atrium up and over an oak railing to the mezzanine. Dazzling beneath skylights, they depict ascent, flap, glide, brake and then descent towards wrought iron tables. They mimic our trek from mall entry up the escalator to feast at the food court. I sit alone at the railing, gliding swan overhead, and pretend to eye my phone. Today I secretly study humans. Food court stuffed with youthful staff, bargain hunters, transit transfers, mobility scooters, mothers, babies, bags, phones, the braggadocio of men meeting, gaunt faces of the needy. Bodies milling, streaming, yearning. The bubbling cocktail of pop rock, chit chat galore, languages, slanguages, giggles, and that one guy yelling. The carnal essence of commercial cookery. Unspoken competition for tables, at times nearly a blood sport. Each of us tiptoeing through our daily hopscotch. Only children wonder at the swans. Do mall swans search for lost wetlands, or do they strain to join us? Mythology has it that swans shift between human and avian form. The enchantment of Tchaikovsky’s swan, princess by night pirouettes into swan by day. In the wild, sudden bright white, raucous landing, huge bold birds calling, splashing power and grace. I wish we each burst into swan. But flight feathers do not anchor to my bones, nor contour feathers pierce my skin. I vow to visit the wild ones, and leave.
published in "Unbroken" 2025