Best Cheeps Poems
An unhurried sun slides across the horizon
Preparing for slumber behind distant waves
And daylight’s last seagull rides thermals in search
Of a late night fish supper - the herring he craves
A paint shop explosion enlivens the skies
As the sun doffs its cap to the tail end of day
That silhouette seagull, against crimson, flys
Before finally veering and heading away
As one with the beach and the shoreline beyond
I watch vibrant heavens succumb
To a darkness profound although I stick around
And I wait for tomorrow to come
The night has its chills but no hectic-life ills
As I feed my small campfire with sticks
One deck chair, one fire is all I desire…
And a thermos for my caffeine fix
There’s no moon, no stars and there’s no beachfront bars
The surf is my soundtrack tonight
I’ve seen moons and stars work with Venus and Mars
To set all above me alight
But tonight is unpainted and I get acquainted
With shadows that flicker and prance
As I recline there, amused, I’m aware
That the fire makes my own shadow dance
I don’t truly doze and a distant bell knows
That I count off its chimes in the night
And as the world sleeps, somewhere near, a bird cheeps
And I know that it soon will be light
I’ll witness the day and then scurry away
Through the hustle and bustle, to bed
Inspired, I’m rewired, and yet, rather tired
With my first chapter clear in my head
My thermos delivers one last warming cup
As a new dawn blue-rinses the grey
A seagull, perhaps who went last night unfed
Circles early for breakfast today
He listened for them in the wood
as daylight blossomed, poised to prowl
For breakfast, breast meat sounded good
and Cat could feel his stomach growl
Soon, struck by a cacophany
of cheeps and chirps, of coos and caws,
Cat snuck up on them, tree by tree
and hushed each cluck with teeth and claws
They paid no mind, so were plucked clean
from every nook where they would sing
but had they looked, they might have seen
him right behind them and took wing!
When Cat had eaten every bird,
he retched a ball of beaks and feet,
spat out one final bone and purred,
outstretched atop the spongey peet...
The mirage of yesterday shimmers over today,
pearly, dulcet, raining over sunshine memory
with an allure of tones chanted as poetry.
Nonverbal cues, squawks, screams, cheeps, brush
my ears over the crash of waves and the stolen
whispers of conversation I share with you.
If I pivot toward today, six feet gained in earthquake,
large uplifted seashore, risen like spires at my feet,
has shaken all doubts of time travel sameness.
The birds, so delicate, flaring tail or hopping up limbs
flood in flocks of chattering house sparrows saying
take up dream, favor yesterday’s search for birds
and make it sing with an allure of land, heart, mystery
spare consolation of the passing of days, spare
reflection of weather changing, eroding, uplifting.
This is what I would remember, the whale bones,
the Kiwi Christmas tree, the hikes upward into Kanaka
woods, and the sun lifting heat and heart toward future.
There’s rainsong on Sunday morn.
The herald of Springtime reciting.
A chorus of wings in the changeover.
Unrelenting litany of praise from fowl.
Nature, humble and knowing, cheeps
loud and not silent, healing with peace.
Chirping, stirring, Winter to be released.
Forget the shadow of groundhog, lean
into the melody of a wet ground, awaiting
the plow and seeds, daffodils and hot sun.
Sing O earth, be rattled by resurrection.
What the robins and blue jays know.
What common man, with hope not despair,
hands opening the book where bonnie notes
ebb and flow on fiery tongues, in air, shared
on this very late Winter, a Sunday morn.
2/27/2022
O we are all very well informed
how horrible might been our reality
in the time of transition
from one evil regime to other.
When one day all monsters and predators
from the park of totalitarian communistic Jurassic
suddenly exploded out for absolute freedom
according with Darwinian law of surviving,
when cruelty and greediness
suppressed long time
by cruel regime and power
started make big business and police
and comrades from monopolistic party -
the sable tooth tigers, tycoon and oligarchs -
inspired again as hundred years ago
with primarily criminal and degenerating instincts, pretexts and postulates
under the Marxist’s coverage and context,
launched now the new but the same adventure
leading to great social tragedy inevitable,
where government playing chief role of Ti Rex
instead keeping the harmony and sustainable existence
protecting cheeps, rabbits, turtles and others multiple small creatures
from total extinction,
learn them for art of surviving and flourishing
through social interaction and protection
what would left again as unreachable aim and utopia
for our long suffered nation.
Fresh blossoms of trees and shrubs
Tender blooms of vine creepers
Meek buds developing into flowers
Glistening leaves’ swaying whispers
Glorious displays of emerald runners
Liberal scatterings of dynamic colors
Soft touches of crisp gusts
Reflective bouquets of dreamy fragrance
Enthusiastic cheeps of song birds
Mother Nature’s embellishments of spring air
Eat me as cheeps
Boil me as food
Either green or yellow
I grow every where
Green when unripe
Yellow when ripe
I give you suckers for the
Future
Give me nine months
I give you
Fruits yes fruits
Plenty of it
Some to sell
Some to eat.
I bow down before the break of day...
Where the feeling of melancholy apprehension
fades by the emblazoning and dilating skies
Yet the stillness behold a sensation
even amid the hues and cries.
I concieve of a deity beyond the breaking horizon
and I strain my ears to get a line of her notes
her voice vibes a distinctive emotional vibration
that airs along with an enigma and with paroles.
I bear upon an image to her heart and soul
and entrap her amid the clamor of life and time
she partakes the rimes from the shaft of my sole
that cheeps, that splashes, that gongs and aerates down the way of time.
I tried to grab her beauty over the time I framed her in my mind,
she dissolves into colours of nature to the plumes of life,
and when I get hold of her smile,
I could feel all the sounds whispering in my nostalgic vibe.
I listen to a series of chirps
breaking in the light of a clear blue morning
from the mankerel sky to the silence of the streams
it echoes a continuous and profound contemplation to an ideal buffering.
I baffle at the edge of a cliff
breaking the silence of the lush green ambiance
the steep descent of the water splashing in the pool
forms its own way from a narrow spattering stream to a wide confluence.
I stood still at the threshold of a new journey
the steps showed me the path to get hold of tranquility
the distant toll of the bells and gongs reverberated the secluded alley
my time of day acquainted my song of praise - Hymn.
Blackbird is dead.
Yes. That is what I said.
The woods are still. The sun is red.
Cherries near his little head.
Dark is coming. Nanette weeps!
The wind shivers. Nightowl peeps.
Gone the robin's trills and cheeps.
The song is ended. Time sleeps.
Sober the jay in his blue cloak,
Unlike the morning he awoke.
Frog hasn't heart to give a croak.
Adam won't tell his usual joke.
Trees bow. The day must pass.
Silent footstep on the grass.
What deed is this? What manner? What class?
The best of Sundays is gone, alas.
Blackbird is dead; they come and they go.
Summer changes to autumn glow.
All is ever so quiet now, though--
Awaiting the cockcrow.
Spring brings the red-breasted robins
To fill the early morning hours
With their cheery chirrs that beckon
The sun to waken the flowers.
Dewy heads of dandelions
Are first to stir from nighttime sleep
Like little yellow rising suns;
And from the trees in nests are cheeps
From newly hatched robin fledglings.
On the dew-covered grass below
A parent thrush struggles, tugging
At a worm lodged in its dark hole
While silent shadows fade away
And springtime births another day.
Cypress haven
Out echoes of the hollow
Creatures of the night
Hoot of Great Horned Owl
Cheeps and chirps shadowed
Seem to follow
Maybe, saw grass yips
Puppies upon the prowl
Sunken moss covered fallen
Echoes reaching further out of hollow
Black cubs fuzzy
First words loud into growl
Or whiny songs
Crying baby swallow
Bullfrog warts
Balloon chin bellows
Maestro amidst the moonlight
Conducting within the wallow
Woodland tenant choirs
As Mother Nature echoes through the hollow
Placid winter cuddles close, lacing exotic spring.
Tapestry of flowers, birds in heavenly wings.
Wakes up a green canopy, exalted in chirpy trill
Peeps, cheeps in rhythm, clatter in medley thrill.
Dappled throat, bright feather, flitters branch to branch.
Gyrating chest in trees, notes perch in avalanche
Tra la la.. chick a dee dees cheer, orchestra in chorus.
Red blue Robin, Cardinal...songbirds..so gorgeous.
Songs of love, waddling dance, bugles of mating calls.
Titillating tunes, virulent envy, conceals clever eyeballs.
Nuzzling beaks love wives and chicks, "its my territory."
Crescendo of man and bird..isnt it the same love story?
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It is established that songbirds sing with the
objective of attracting female mating partners
and also to broadcast their range of territories.
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16th February 2019
PLACED FOURTH in Songbirds Contest of Tania Kitchin
PLACED FIRST in Brian Strands Feb 2019 Contest
I
Siblings stolen
Why list the nations ills ...
Bring Chicken Little home
II
Kuiken has cage during light
Twilight cheeps, louder -- plaintive --
Back in box, quietest baby
Feckless forest faeries faintly frolicking for fiddling foundlings.
Morose mortals merrily mixing meager mushroom munchies
Fantastical fey forever feeds frenzied fevers following forest firs
Chattanooga chirps, cheeps, chattering chipmunks, chewing crunchies.
"In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous." Aristotle
Sweet
Singing
Chirping bird,
Chant notes with grace,
Whistle blissful tunes,
Whisper those short high cheeps,
Twitter those thin tender tweets,
Twist my moments of silent tears
Cover other notes so duff and dull
Coz someday, boys and girls might sing your voice.