Best Chickadee Poems | Poetry

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

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

See Also:

Poems are below...

New Chickadee Poems

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

The Chickadee by Riha, Madeleine
Black Capped Chickadee -Quatrain- by Jones, Cynthia
Chickadee -Airless Suburban Haiku- by Jones, Cynthia
Chickadee Tag -Haiku- by Jones, Cynthia
The Chickadee by McAdams, Daniel
Chickadee Symphony by Fillmore, Carol
Chickadee by Culverhouse, Doris

View all new Chickadee Poems

The Best Chickadee Poems

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

The Shoe Store Bantering

She jiggled like pink jello into the store
with platinum blonde hair and red rouge on her face
the shoe clerk mumbled it must be 1950's day
watching her strut around with a hanky made out of lace

She said hi hon you know why I'm here
he replied let me guess, you wear a size eight
she said well if the shoe fits I might as well wear it
and maybe later if you get lucky you can be my date

So she scouted around and found a pair
and sat down with tight dress flair
he thought to himself I think I'm in love with Mae West
looking her up and down and at her chest

He gently took her foot and slid her old high heel off
his hand sliding up and starting to cruise
she batted her eyelashes and said oh keep it coming, she toyed
saying, why don't you come up and see me later big boy

With that he winked and slid the new heels on 
watching her walk around like Mae West
she said you know I know you like me big boy
but my eyes are up here and not on my chest

With that he gave her a long wolf whistle
and said you know I just can't resist
now stop acting your shoe size sexy
pulling her towards him giving her a passionate kiss

She whispered hon is that your gun
or are you just happy to see me
he said guess what my little chickadee
tonight you can be my Bacall and I'll be your Bogie

With that she left the store with customers galore
staring, whispering and looking aghast
he said out loud, come on... get a life...
I know we're a little kooky, but she happens to be my wife!


Copyright © cheryl hoffman | Year Posted 2018

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

Spring Easter Haiku

the chickadee tweets I eat my breakfast without an egg wings flutter upon melting icicles first glimpse of Spring Grandma's garden a missing rose lay on her stone Incense wafts amongst the silent crowd a sneeze out loud longing another Spring blooms without you
Happy Easter to you and yours with love -Charma

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016

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

Haiku 004 at the Spring farm

the chickadee tweets

i eat my breakfast

without an egg

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2012

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

Birds of Youth Released

My sweetest cravings, fledglings in a nest,
were held up high; into the air released
by eager hands of mine.  A world to test
was mine before youth’s wishing time had ceased.

The birds who have come back to visit me
are well-remembered dreams that have come true.
The pleasant yellow finch; the chickadee
and skylark gave me nothing I should rue.

The cardinal would warble in my ear.
I yearned for him, but he did not stay long.
The bluebird too I hoped to always hear.
She comes and goes.  At times I hear her song.

But long forgotten wishes to grow older
are sparrows at my door as life grows colder.

For the Contest: Pen a Sonnet on It

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012

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


A Chickadee flies from tree to tree,
an eagle soars over big blue skies,
Oh to be a bird to fly so free,
Where another dips and then pulls up to the sunrise.
   A Robin gracefully lands on her nest,
She feeds to one,
and then to the rest,
While the babies chirp, the mother gazes to the sun.
   Although planes too can fly,
the birds was designed by birth to soar,
and although planes too go high,
birds can swoop and twirl to heights galore.
   But not only do they fly,
above clouds and such sorts,
for many can fly like, the butterfly,
but a birds instincts can tell him when to build his forts.
   Sometimes I jump in plans to soar,
leaping off the edge of the table,
I jump and land upon the floor,
and somehow learn that, I am not able.
   To end the thoughts of my outrageous dreams,
I'll say by simply telling you,
when I end my crazy schemes,
I guess being human will have to do.

Copyright © savannah feeler | Year Posted 2015

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

Soften Our Brutal World

early morning....

I watch a chickadee perch on my bay leaf tree,
dropping down to sip water from my birdbath

next to the tiny cherub angel, leg extended
in welcome-

my hand loomed rug, crafted by a bluffwoods
Grandmother, lovingly watches over me-

His shadow arc's and infiltrates my prism,

if I'm less brutal today, maybe others will 
feel it too-

              ..... maybe

                          feel it too

Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2009

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



I stand beside these tangled roots
of this ever changing clock-wood tree. 
Where streams of ink, like dander fluff,
cling to my pen in congealed thought.
I will tread cautiously 'cross this matted sheath,
with the unsure step of weary feet.
Confusion, an utterance of un-trained words,
delivered from the beaks of travelled birds.
‘We strive to live, though live to die!’,
the loud and boisterous blue jay's cry.
Kind hearted sparrow, bright chickadee,
Their soulful song, of clemency.

Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald | Year Posted 2012

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

Chickadee Symphony

Tiny winged creatures
flit from tree to tree
perch on tree branches
preening breast feathers
wee plump bodies

Fee fee-fee fee
delicate songs
bird orchestra
they serenade

Feathered friends
we listen

Fee fee
sweet song


Copyright © Carol Fillmore | Year Posted 2011

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

A Seasonal Walk

It’s a pleasure to walk out on a Winter’s day,
When the cold air bites, and deep snow’s here to stay!
To hear the wind howling through the bare trees,
Perhaps hear the sound of a chickadee sneeze!
But then, I love to walk in the pouring rain
Without a hat!  It cools my overworked brain!
Nothing beats that feeling, when you’re freezing cold.
It’s something to remember, when I get old.
Always supposing I will reach old age!

And yes!  I like to go out on a Spring morn.
For when taking a walk, I’m glad to be born.
Though rubber boots leak, making feet sore, and wet.
I’m soaked to the skin!  Can I get wetter yet?
There’s a Westerly wind screaming through the trees!
Better I think, than walking in a light breeze!
I slip and slither, and finally fall down.
If the puddle were deeper, I’d likely drown!
Then of course, I’d never reach old age!

When Summer is here, I enjoy a long walk.
To be out in the heat, when it’s hard to talk!
As sweat pours from every part of my being.
People can hardly believe what they’re seeing!
Dust sticks to my brow.  I smell rancid and strong.
If you don’t like my  smell ?  Then best move along!
Still in rubber boots, though they make my feet stink!
I look so disgusting, it makes some folks blink!
I doubt they’ll let me live to reach old age!
In the Fall, I’ll be going out once again
Coughing and sneezing, I’ll slosh through the rain!
The chickadee died.  He caught pneumonia!
So I buried him under the red begonia!
There’s a rash on both legs, and my nose is sore.
I’ve no handkerchief left, to blow it once more!
There’s an ache in my right ear, and fungus grows,
Itching and burning between most of my toes!
I’m amazed I’ve lived to reach old age!
Now, as another good year gets under way,
Why I wonder, are things tough for me today?
All I want, are the simple pleasures in life.
Maybe a good woman, to make me a wife!
But for some reason, they’re very hard to find.
Though I’ll still keep trying while I have a mind!
By until that day when I find one to train,
I’ll keep to myself.  Out in the pouring rain!
At present no one cares if I reach old age?



Copyright © Denis Barter | Year Posted 2016

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

Mountain Birds

“SQUAWK, Squawk, squawk” ,the Bald Eagle’s song of Freedom, Liberty and Serenity

bird Houses, in my backyard are filled with baby Chickadees , Whining , is their Song
If they Knew by the end of Summer, in stillness before the Rain: Phoebe - Tranquility
 the clouds Thicken and Blacken : the Chickadee puffs her chest, sings Phoebe song
The rain  softly Crying a Phoebe’s resounding  echoes , Chickadees, duel Ability
 the sky is blue:  the wind is calm: a single Phoebe "warning" believe in Her Validity

His Bright Red Plumage
He can not hide from my Eyes
Tapping and rapping, His song 
There’s no Special  beat
A Redheaded Woodpecker
Tap, Tap, Tap, Rap, Raps his Song

So close sits this Robin beside me
No Songs, just the Promise of Spring

Inspired by the Contest : " For(Four) Beautiful Birds" 
Sponsored by CONSTANCE~~A Rambling POET~~
Written :  May 1st - 2nd, 2011 By HGarvey Daniel Esquire
                              5th Place

Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire | Year Posted 2011

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

Chickadee Tag -Haiku-

Weave between branches they're playing a game of tag one by one, they're it. Copyright © Cynthia Jones Dec.12/2013 I was watching the chickadees outside a few days ago. This is what I had come up with.

Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015

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

In the shade of the setting son

Not at once, but gradually at my feet
random leaves, brown and brittle
carpenters diligently march in 
leaving my bark somewhat non-committal

Furtively, up grow the undesirables
the weedy weeds and the pesty pests
erstwhile friends in the summer sun
the heavenly snag inviting inquests

Wounded tree under forest affliction 
how to water; too little, too much
scarred by the bear claw and lightning strike  
yielding to the woodpecker, chickadee and bluebird clutch

Where only warmth now lingers, the flame once fired 
stands the smiling woodsman cleaning his plate
glistening against my trunk in the wink of a rising sun  
a sharpened ax waits and waits

Copyright © Grant Norwood | Year Posted 2017

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

Beautiful Birds

Hawk-like shrills blue jay foreshadowing majestic fierceness As robins scurry to protect their young flying frantically to and from the nest The jays advancing while battle cries are sung Our first sign of spring with the red/orange breast bravely defending against the unwanted guest Petite chickadee is joined by male cardinal sharing a feeder Round white-cheeked friend with black cap with red-plumaged pretty boy Four birds beautiful on their own flying together where I call home Contest: "For (Four) Beautiful Birds Written By: Shani Fassbender April 25, 2011

Copyright © Shani Fassbender | Year Posted 2011

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

Chickadee -Airless Suburban Haiku-

Chickadee flies low looking for food he buried runs into a tree. Copyright © Cynthia Jones Jan.28/2013 I haven't penned one of these in a while.

Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015

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

The Chickadee

Outside the house the chickadee
Is calling out to me
Flitting in and out of trees
Living life so free
God's creation for you and me
An example for us to see
To show that it alone is He
It's Him who's made us free

Copyright © Daniel McAdams | Year Posted 2011

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


Chickadee tuxedo
Black, grey and white, polished
Vogue array
(    )

Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2010

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


Birdfeeder raided
Squirrel stuffing with birdseed
Chickadee “dees” on

Copyright © JP Armstrong | Year Posted 2016

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

Black Capped Chickadee -Quatrain-

Black capped chickadee sitting in my hand, come play with me across God's beautiful land. Copyright Cynthia Jones Nov.28/2004 I wrote this about my youngest daughter. It's the first time she had a chickadee land on her hand.

Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015

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


grey branches shimmer
waving in blue sky breezes
chickadee lingers

Copyright © Krow Fischer | Year Posted 2010

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

My three little birds

Dove Robin Chickadee
All are in the same species
All are dear to me

Copyright © Bobb Marly | Year Posted 2014

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

She's Breakable

She’s breakable
as if she were fine china used for tea,
a cup one holds and sips from daintily.
Her arms are porcelain, for she’s a doll
She needs so much for one who is so small!

I‘d use MY limbs to shade you. I’m a tree
and solid. . . yet I’m liquid like the sea!
I’m durable, for I am standing tall,
while she’s a vine that crawls along your wall . . . 

So delicate, your little chickadee.
She’s sapping you; she’ll never let you be.
Yet here stand I, prepared to give you all!
She’s fragile glass that you must not let fall.
She’s breakable.

For Joe Flach's contest: The Earl of Sandwich

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010

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

Nature's Intelligent Partner

The wood is stacked for winter.
One way out of the mind's limitations
is through other minds' contemplations.
The books are stacked for winter.

Yet even that cannot satisfy.
Failing to hold still for meditation
my teacher smiles, makes this observation:
The purpose of sitting's not to be satisfied

or satiated. Remain hungry,
cold, uncomfortable and counting enemies.
These, and fear, are our commonalities,
and the discipline of not hitting whenever angry.

You'll appreciate dying
quietly at home. Whichever season has been randomly selected will be beautiful
      as ever
as a molecule of water is to all matter.
"In my life there were always too many things."

If there is no time, only change
the linear becomes circular.
Do not say north or south. You're
within the winter range

of chickadee, hawk, owl and heron.
Winter grapes, rose hips, the cedar waxwings'
repast. Their talk is my reminding
there is change and neurons.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

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

Contemplation of a White Line---Drunken Pen

Look, there's a white line, dead center of this empty road
Wow, that sun is hot out here...
and here I am sitting on the edge of this blacktop world
waiting for a tow .......crying out loud......why, Lord, why today?.....
Some shortcut huh? You might call it a back road error in judgement...
leaving me sitting in this no-man's land of desolate boredom....
a missed appointment, a frustrated friend waiting, while all I can do is
look at heat waves billowing up in the heat of Indian summer and watch the
peafowl grazing in the tall brown weeds behind me, ......hunting grasshoppers I suppose....
Territorial hens and cocks at their banquet
One patriarch, with his vast train, it seems he reigns aloof ..sitting there,
in the shade of a vagrant oak.  At least there's one tree helping to shadow the place where I sit and oh yeah, that lone hen, wandering onto the white line, and looking at me, (with disdain, no less!)
I am an intruder, in a world I don't belong....she knows it.....should I apologize? "Okay, ....sorry you Chickadee!"  "Whattaya expect me to do?"......
Hmmm..... that fading white line................
how do they get it dead center of the road, I wonder?
I have been sitting here for nearly an hour, sigh.............and that long, long, line.......
going to you can be
mesmerized by a long white line that meanders into the distant horizon...
Wonder how long has it been since I've had such a moment
just a small moment to contemplate such a trifle...
a narrow white line in the center of an asphalt road
Who put it there?  What sort of man?  Who drives the machine, that paints this line?
Did he do this all day...draw these straight white painted stripes?
Does he give it much thought?  This artist,...this Da'vinci of roadways?
Does he think of the life he might save....or the order this brings?
His touch of white on a blacktop world?
Does he do this all after day?
This artwork to pay for his wife's medicine?
Or for a son's braces, or a daughter's tuition?
Trivial contemplation, perhaps,  crazy maybe to ponder by the side of a road.....
You is just a white what??
To someone....even a trifle....a white line on asphalt....
                           might be important......

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2012

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

Black-capped Chickadees

Having not done the things I wanted to do
and the things I've done not being what I wanted to do
I sit here looking at lichen on the north side of trees.

Black-capped chickadees
cheerful and truthful expression
grouped in platoons, sharing the point.

The tribes travel together
first finches, then chickadees
following the squirrels every morning.

What luxury, abundance! Handful after handful
of grass seed thrown, into wind.
The corn ripe and the rye with it.

The other main families: pines, roses, peas,
lilies, daisies, heath, birch and oak.
Maple, honeysuckle, pink, mustard, cypress, mint, olive, buckwheat,
      primrose, willow, buttercup, saxifrage, snapdragon, cactus.

Truth may be ascertained by considering
the truth we feel, the truth we're told,
the truth we reason, and the truth we've seen.

It is so good to be a chickadee.
To tell the truth cheerfully and joyfully.
In a way that makes others want to live.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

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

House Mouse and Titmouse Quarrel

The little house mouse said, “Isn’t it a shame,
How the tufted titmouse has stolen our good name?”
The titmouse could not refrain as she shook her pointed crest
To answer in disdain, “You’re nothing but a pest!”

“The titmouse comes from a proud family and perhaps by now you’ve guessed,
We’re related to the chickadee, we fly with the very best.
We’re also kin to nuthatches, but we have a broader tail.
While the mouse just sits and scratches, cross the skies we sail.”

The mouse was caught off guard, so embarrassed he could die
Until he thought real hard and came back with this reply:
“The house mouse is a mighty creature, having a feature incredible and rare,
He can put a hundred and thirty pound teacher on top of a chair!”

Copyright © James Tate | Year Posted 2016