Best Egret Poems | Poetry

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New Egret Poems

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

white egret by Kendrick, Sara
Haiku 50 - egret by Merryman, Kim
EGRET by onclaud, nette
white egret flying by Gorelick, Barbara
THE FAIR GIRL AND THE BLACK EGRET by Crisci, Andrew
CARABAO EGRET by naces, romeo
Mud Egret by naces, romeo

View all new Egret Poems

The Best Egret Poems

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The Billabong

There’s an old river course with beginning and end,
now the river runs straight without this river bend,
where the water is still and the reeds do grow strong.
New life has taken over in a billabong.

The mat rush is spreading replacing the sedge,
and old fallen gum trees lean in from the edge
creating a haven in the shelter below
for smelt or gudgeon, and the common minnow.

There’s a ring on the water, so danger is nigh,
and life is now over for one caddis fly.
Dragonflies hover on their predator flight, 
so mosquito and midges best keep out of sight.

There is many a song around a billabong 
to break up the still with an assembly throng
from birds of the forest, and wading birds too,
so the billabong offer is there to pursue...

... for blue heron and egret, coot and the teal,
and for the banded rail that the bulrush conceal.
In the billabong shadowed by gum and ti-tree, 
bellbirds are tinkling; wattlebirds disagree.

An oft-diving grebe keeps on searching for food
for the striped downy chicks of its latest brood,
and a hunting kingfisher waits keen for its prey 
from a twig of a gum tree it frequents all day.

There is many a scent around a billabong, 
filling the air with the perfume quite strong,
from black wattle and mint bush, or mistletoe
cascading from gum trees where only they grow.

Painted lady butterfly flit upon flowers,
and blue banded bees keep on working for hours
on lilies and orchids, heath, sweet appleberry
and clusters of flowers on a native cherry.

Ribbon weed, nardoo spread out in the shallow,
with buttercup, duckweed; an introduced mallow,
struggling for survival near the water line,
aiding coral pea that does lightly entwine.

The banks of a billabong are dangerous too
with predator snakes not so often in view,
but they are aware, that the growling grass frog 
will climb from the water onto an old log.

But tigers and copperhead, red-bellied black
often lay in the sun on an overgrown track,
where the wombat or wallaby travel along
to graze on native grasses near the billabong.

So life still carries on around the billabong
where water looks stagnant, a bond is still strong
with a river now rushing it’s way to the sea,
past the billabong living, where the course used to be.



Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2015


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From my diary: Nature

Santa Barbara, Summer 2017

Monday
I walked on the bluffs above the sea.
Orange poppies bloom in the dunes.
I discovered
the labyrinth:
smooth stones spell the path.
Peaceful pilgrimage.

Tuesday
Walked on the beach and smelled:
Tar from the oil seeps,
fennel,
coastal sage,
eucalyptus.
And, of course, the sea.

Wednesday
Hiked in the foothills.
The grass is brittle and yellow; 
the land sizzles.
Spiky shrubs,  spiny scrub oak.
The chaparral is ready
to burst into flames.

Thursday
The eucalyptus trees 
on Ellwood Mesa
are dying
from the drought.
Where will the butterfly sleep?

Friday
The sandpipers
hurry to the surf, neck forward, 
to peck with long bills.
They scurry inland before the next wave
as if they are afraid
to get their feet wet.
Snowy plovers skitter
like cotton balls on wheels.

Saturday
The infinite ocean
under an infinite sky.
A white S among the reeds,
the egret can teach me
poise and patience.

Sunday
Found a piece of seaglass.
Translucent blue,
The edges smooth
Worn by water,
Sanded down.
Beauty from adversity.
I think I will write a poem about it.


November 1, 2017
For contest: From my Diary
Sponsored by Broken Wings



Copyright © Agnes Krampe | Year Posted 2017


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Lesson

A white S
among the reeds,
the egret
can teach me
poise and patience.


Copyright © Agnes Krampe | Year Posted 2017


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Swamp Life: Human Nature Contest

Swamps are like places where dinosaurs roam  
shadowed by ancient moss-draped trees.        
A prehistoric world in shades of green.            
I paddle my pirogue through algae foam.     
Around me it's taciturn and serene                     
as I collect for whittling, cypress knees.              
Fishermen, hunters, and I call it home.             

Nature's garden profuse with wildflowers;
cattails and swamp iris in brown and blue.
An alligator, inert near the banks.
I sit and gaze at the beauty for hours.
For my primitive domain, I give thanks -
for the bass I caught, simmering in stew,
and for herbs I use for healing powers.

In the swamp, it's as if time has stood still.
Under lily pads there lurks big bullfrogs
hiding from herons and the egret.
I can hear them calling out their trill.
Time in my cabin I never regret.
Life is peaceful in these foggy bogs.
I ready myself for night's misty chill.

Sinister snakes slither in shallow brine
and cling to low branches overhead,
trying to catch the last ray of sun.
I descry them while checking my line
then gather up moss, and when that's done,
I will stuff it inside my mattress bed.
Living in my swamp suits me just fine.


_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_
January 21st, 2016
Human Nature Contest
Sponsor: Marugu Mo


Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2016


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Kasalukuyan: going, going, going, go in, go'n

just. that

tired
---------------------------------------------------------

yes, bury me now
shut those eyes,
hit head on each side
to turn back time
and do the things 
I should've done,
throw
cushion
to that
wind ~           o 
           and m   und.

eye-ayay lids
feeling heavy
with soiled r(egret) now

Dam(n) of tears
why 
don't 
you 

b
r 
  e
     a k 
           (free----

 surrealready?


141126jnp37



**************************************************************



sumagi na naman 
sa aking kaisipan
ang pangungulila--

sa natamong nakaraan,
sa matatamong kinabukasan,
sa tinatahak na kasalukuyan

pilit na pinipiga ang puso't isipan
sa 'di mawaring kadahilanan--
malamang dahil may gusto ang puso
na ibigkas
'yun nga lang--
dahil ako ay Ako,

hindi ko mawari't maisulat

isang malalim na buntong hininga
isang malalim na paglunok
ng saloobin--

pilit na binabaon,
ginagapos
--ayaw makawala
pigil na pinapalaya

dahil ako ay duwag... .

ito ako ngayon sa kasalukuyan
bukas kaya?
Ganito pa rin ako?






1202a0911816



(just want to put this in-- unrelated to the above write, but still)



--outside the kitchen window, hanging on a wire---



a trill that pierces me,
for some reason

 I thought all have gone
yet,
 that dainty, yellow, bird,

sings again




1238a124112016



Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2016


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WAO, LANAO DEL SUR



knee-deep in flowing verdant grass,
near the creek beside
the hill,


carabao slowly feeds on freedom,
leisurely roams
at will.


on its massive back, white egret,
so delicately
slow-dances,


the feathers of its slender neck
the morning breeze
romances!


Copyright © romeo naces | Year Posted 2010


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Addicted

Screwed XIV Contest
Sponsor: Rob Carmack 

Addicted...
Betrayed by my excess
Caught and restricted
Deniably distressed
Ever since that Thursday
Friday came too soon
Guilty in the worst way
Hung out under pains moon
Insinuating my recovery
Joking, laughing, weeping
Karen made a discovery
Laura left not sleeping
Made me a warm bath
Narcotics were my death
Owning a broken hourglass 
Pretending I needed rest
Quivering in withdrawal
Regret fills my immateriality
Seeing what I really saw
Through out my immortality
Using to stop the itch
Vindictive by nature
Waiting to make a switch
Xerox my dirty paper
Yearned to be me again
Zealous and uncondemned


Date Written: November 18, 2015




Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2015


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Lamentations of Sanibel Island

Note: Special thanks to Elizabeth Wesley for planting the seed (another one) for this poem.  And despite the dismal nature of this writing, Sanibel Island is still a beautiful place to see and visit.  


Sanibel, Sanibel, Sanibel dream;
Once we were lovers before I knew what love means.  

I held your hands, your soft white sands
Caressing my fingers tender;
Sanibel, Sanibel where have you have gone
Our love no longer lingers. 

Gone are your spiraling sea shells,
Remains of your deep ocean friends; 
Gone are your crystalline shorelines 
I left my footprints in.

From progress called sky scrapers
And concrete travel parks;
Sanibel, dear Sanibel,
You’ve lost your sweet lovers spark.

Others may find you still lovely
With your great blue egret plumes;
But I’m not fooled for a New York minute
Because I watched shooting stars with you.

While the waves washed in from the distance
And the tides came and went with the moon;
I gave you my all while following the call
And you left me far too soon.  

Sanibel, Sanibel, Sanibel dream;
Once we were lovers before I knew what love means.  


Copyright © Terrell Martin | Year Posted 2011


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Me, Acrostically Speaking

A lmost always late (unless it’s for a movie);
N ight owl though I am, I love the sun.
D imples when I smile; to dance or drive a ragtop are two things I find groovy.
R ational and “real,” I tell it like it is to everyone.
E xuberant at carnivals or joking with someone;
A ware of all my flaws, and one of them is having too much fun!

D iligent and dedicated - words that well describe me.
I n things I love to do, I give my all.
E nglish is my forte. I’ve taught since 1983.
T hankfulness I feel, though now at 56, my bones could use an overhaul!
R egret I rarely feel. Most things I do - I know I’d do again.
I ntolerance, injustice and ignorance I hate to see.
C onscientious since a child I’ve always been.
H appy, kind, forgiving, and easy-going. Now you know more about me.


Written by Andrea Dietrich
for kristen bruni's contest:
"Love Me Why?"


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011


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Bird of Prey

Bird of Prey

On Banyon Lake, where waterfowl dwell,
The night was tranquil and held no fear.
Until came a sound ascended from Hell.
I heard a menacing cry as I drew near.

Upon the shore no wave did break.
No whispers on the wind were heard.
Nor was there a splash on the lake.
From any waterfowl or roosting bird.

The anxious cooing of mated doves
Cried out a warning in the ominous dark.
They heard the screech from far above,
And trilled warning of a hungry hawk.

A mother swan, at the edge of the lake,
gathered her chicks beneath her wings.
It was a time to stay alert and awake.
In the face of danger no bird dared sing.

The predator hovered high in the sky.
I saw her shadow blanket the moon.
With yet another shrill, piercing cry,
I heard the faint wail of a single loon.

There was movement among the reeds. 
The hunter circled in search of her prey.
Her only focus was to fulfill her need
Before dark gave way to light of day.

Talons lowered, she opened her beak.
Again she screamed from great height.
Eyes focused on the fish she did seek.
Upon her wings, reflected moonlight.

Down she plunged with swiftest speed.
With keen senses she was able to snare
The prize that would sate her needs,
And enough to feed her fledgling pair.

With a flap of wings she rose in the sky.
A fish clutched in the grip of her claws.
All the birds were safe. I let out a sigh.
Fulfilled was Mother Nature's basic law.

A stilt legged egret came out of hiding.
Swans craned their necks in a swoon.
Doves continued their calls and chiding.
A nightingale whistled a joyous tune.

On Banyon Lake, where waterfowl dwell,
All was peaceful, serene, and still.
Upon the water, silver moonbeams fell.
The bird of prey had eaten her fill.

** I do not believe in the existence of Hell.






Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2015


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Stormbound

Gaze out to sea upon blown rig and sail
  in our fright's strand on stormwatch to the south;
heed the mighty whirlwind; its scything trail -
  Galleons Passage to the Serpents Mouth.
See the bended trees on coconut row -
  the dark swell off the Gulf of Paria;
let it sunder, let it rage, let it blow...
  the hour has come that we must tarry her!
When away are cattle jittery led,
  and heron, egret, crane, and frigate bird
take flight for cover when all else have fled,
  till a cockcrow at early dawn is heard.
When eerie is the billfish feeding ground
and missing are the pelicans stormbound.




                   July 1996


Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2014


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Mint Green Trees


                                                      white Egret in flight
                                           mint green trees surround lily pond
                                                      in soft morning mist.


Copyright © Terry L. Allen | Year Posted 2012


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white egret flying

white egret flying disappears in morning mist ghost of moon lingers


Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2011


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Providence

egret on sand dune
fish breaks surface and flies free
coconut pours milk


Copyright © Kim Bond | Year Posted 2014


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Calm and Serene

We like to visit a pond nearby, a good place to be, 
Egret, Heron along with the ducks and geese, to see.

One day we saw a smiling duck with dimples,
He looked so comfy, in the center of his ripples.

All around him, small bubbles rose,
It was apparent what went on, by a nose.

Farting to create ripples is known as fripples, 
Best not look it up, you’ll get into a crimple.

Other ducks and animals riding the waves, who became disturbed,
On hearing of what the smiling duck did, were now perturbed. 

Flying feathers all about, everyone was leaving the scene,
So much for our pond, that was once calm and serene.



Written by Michael Eastman, 8-25-2015


Copyright © Michael Eastman | Year Posted 2015


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Murder of Crows

The mist rises inches above the water 
An angel of silence holds back her tears.
Cypress knees jerk
And the egret slides silently through the mist
The swamp is a sacred place. 
Inches of water hold a danger deeper than the depth of life
The primordial mud is deep here

My feet sink in deeper
I lean against an ancient monolith of a water oak, which is,
Standing next to a cypress tree that is older than anything I can fathom
The wood ducks whistle deep in the canopy
And I wait for their majestic colors to flash in the morning light
I am a hunter but I have not come to kill

I am here to take what nature gives
A turtle surfaces near me to catch a breath of air
And then sinks below the brown murky water
He hunts for the dead, the vulture of the swamp
He is hunted as well; a snack for a gator 
That may well be circling my feet as well

I care not for I am fearless of these creatures
I am an intruder and I am not on the menu
Carrying a weapon is only a weak means of security
For if they truly wanted me they would take me under
And introduce me to their world
However violent that introduction might be
I would never forget to remember that I am a guest here

Until then I will stand halfway in and halfway out of their world
Mystified by what the swamp as laid at my feet.
A flock of ducks circles my position looking for a place to lite
With one croak an old crow gives my position away
And the flock turns and heads further south
I curse the crow and he looks at me sardonically with one eye
And cries out  --- “If needed I’ll bring a murder of crows to keep you honest, old fool. “


Copyright © Stephen Kilmer | Year Posted 2013


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The Hen That Doesn't Chicken Out

The goose cranes its neck in time to see egrets and cranes
    chicken out from a furious fight over seeds and grains
        against a rooster that fails to duck a crowbar blow
            coming from an interfering, pro-egret, coward crow;

the hen cackles mad at such treachery, such foul play,
    the crow's goose is cooked as she pecks her way into the fray,
        she whacks him black and blue, she slaps him hard and good,
            he flaps away, the henpecked crow of the neighborhood;

and when at last the noise and dust and feathers settle down,
    it's clear to see who truly owns the barn battle crown,
        not the limping rooster cast in plaster, it turns out,
            but the hen with much to crow and be cocky about !



Copyright © romeo naces | Year Posted 2006


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A Happy Place

I.	Creation

Before the troubles of the world infect the soul
The magic of imagination creates a womb
Devoid of torment, pain, and stress. Rainforests, 
Jungles, beaches, other worlds of elation where 
You are always the victor in battle, the one
Who finds true love, alpha and omega. Never 
Landing in withered trees or dead grass, only
Strong trunks and rolling plains, an ocean 
Of stars, a blanket while lying comfy on
Palm fronds floating down calm dreamy 
Rivulets of turquoise streams. Locomotives 
Wind down vast forest covered country sides
Their tracks gliding to the warm earthy
Humming sound only they can make.

Only now with danger, inherent only to your peaceful fire
Bring you to this happy place, a place desired.

II.	A Home all Your Own

In the world of yesterdays and tomorrows
And days lost in the gyre of solstices we
Create a world unto ourselves. Paradises 
Lost to the antiquity of children trapped
Inside their adult armor. Lies tipped with 
Poison seep into the wells of being, melting 
The oil from the canvas’ that dreams are painted on.
Cheap reminiscences flash through tattered wafting
Curtains. Nightmare doppelgangers wait in quarries 
of fire breathing mountain giants laying siege to 
Rapture found in a good escape. Chemical 
Demons like iron maidens brandishing your
Favorite drugs, syringes close in creating 
An eerie starry night

To you alone
In a home all your own.

III.	Repent to your inner child 

To regain a solid footing on the gun deck 
Of the warship you’re riding in the flotsam, 
Hearken lessons from the playground, 
The bruises, nicks, and cuts proudly earned
Ensure the necessary skills are acquired
To embark on adventures of the body. 
Hiding in shrouds like an angel
White egret with horsehair-like crests and
Misty wings is the caged fury of joy, her
Wings mightier, beak stronger, eyes sharper
And love unabated from years unvisited. 
Swelling seas are sailed, reefs can’t breach
A flying draft when joy carries her burden
Aloft. Hair amber and aflame in the setting sun
Amidst a new sea of clouds, only anchor

In a child’s heart when the dream fades
And the soul returns among the shades.


Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2010


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The Synathroesmic Cow

Kooky cow,short- horned with humped back from east,
Thick white furs spotted like the jungle beast,
Your long brownish-black tail drives off the flies,
Thanks! O` egret for picking off  its lice.

Slow chewing of cuds deep into the night,
Legs shaking, teeth grinding a normal  rite,
Grass cutting diastema with mucus nose,
dripping down slowly to add to this  dose.

All-day your body moves  rickety  way,
Sluggishly lying down  like potter`s clay,
Milk oozing from a brown nipple big breast,
Rancid and congealed on the skin like crest.



CONTEST:"The Synathroesmic Cat" sponsored by Suzanne Delaney


Copyright © olusegun Arowolo | Year Posted 2013


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EGRET


Elegant bird of lakes
Enchanting in white plumes;
Egret twirls graceful neck
Exotic its coiled form…
Each winged movement, a glide
Endowed by nature’s art
Embodying beauty!


9/19/2016
For Kim Merryman: Pleiades E Poetry Contest
Checked through www.howmanysyllables.com



Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016


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CARABAO EGRET

Knee-deep in flowing, verdant grass 
near the creek beside 
the hill,

a black carabao feeds on freedom, 
leisurely roams 
at will.

On its massive back, a delicate, 
white egret 
slow-dances,

the feathers of its slender neck 
the morning breeze 
romances!


Copyright © romeo naces | Year Posted 2010


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Amachara

In those days when national service
Conscripted me for a necessary chore
In in the tap root of Amachara
I abode
At dusk, strange hands lacerate my flesh
At dawn, your girls dragged me into drudgery
Today, weights of reminiscent garrison my thoughts
Amachara, are you still the egret that drums in my auditory?
Is your tail longer-than Mbaise?
Perhaps your cousin Ezeleke
Will let me proof the weight of my love for her.


Copyright © awoh kingsley awoh | Year Posted 2011


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white egret

white egret feeds on sumptuous fare in mowed field.... collasped farm buildings


Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2017


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Haiku 50 - egret

early morning walk
     breathing in salty sea air --
           an egret takes flight.

9/29/16


Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2016


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Tide

The sea breathes
Gently in and out,
It seems to sigh upon the breeze.

Waves sparkle
Like liquid silver,
Dappled diamonds on restless swell;

Advancing
Gently up the shore,
Relentless, driven by the moon.

Aromas
Of rich dark seaweed,
Distinctive halogenic nose.

White egret
In rock pool dipping
While oystercatchers scream on by.

Eternal tide,
Pumping in and out
Like measured concertina strokes.

Mesmeric.
I could watch for hours,
Lost in timeless fascination.


Copyright © Mike Jones | Year Posted 2015