Best Fowls Poems
I dreamt of blue birds
and buzzing bumble bees.
I roamed with the bison herds,
prayed with mantis on our knees,
and butterflies in the breeze.
I greeted the cheery chickadees,
dragonflies, and snowy owls.
I marveled at graceful manatees.
raucous sounds of guinea fowls,
and warblers’ velvet vowels.
I raved at ravens
dancing on a fertile field.
Mice sought havens,
safe shelters that red ants build
in hopes from spiders to shield.
I spotted rain-drenched
autumn leaves in tapestries,
their beauty strangely entrenched.
Purple hues imbued in varying degrees,
of gladiolas and sweet peas.
So many perfect pleasures,
many another than these.
All of God’s treasures,
created with love to please,
arranged to calm my world with ease.
Categories:
fowls, animal, bird, dream, environment,
Form:
Rhyme
Written: January 07, 2024
_________________________________________
eyes are soul gates even in disguise they do not lie
visual cues that transcend verbal expression
but it also shares one's mood with lenticular opiates
spanning an effluvium-trail-laden sky
select a person and share eye contact while whimpering
gaze might betray a false grin quoth-trust aegis
stupendous azure eyes! aggregations of night elixir
spellbind the world with an aura of simmering
wispy pearls in her eyes—soul rises without adronitis
I cross cosmic cloisters and Eden's bright bower
I grip men truths in their odd dismal ways
the sheer number of words is overwhelming
once cupid arrows hit a cosmic glow covers the world
glorious as sharpness of your sight and dawn dew
her azure eyes purify and calm me as oceanic waves
no drift inbred ocean fowls flutter feel felicity
ethereal eyes whisper to my soul sparkling with glee
pristine eyes hypnosis a wish for propinquity shine
as the sun rises shards of light reveal her eyes
dreams sap my mind cocoons and eyes beguile me
after inhaling and kissing goldenly—all else is plain
all the grace I skipped—in the sun wind and rain
as dew at dawn chatoyant eyes embrace you
butterfly-like in gestalt despite a sanguine heartbeat
those eyes are as sibilant as the rising sun
they send doves soaring and senses roaring
some eyes are drenched in love until they sparkle
delphic soul shy—untamed my love never defamed
grateful for blue skies—for all—and blue eyes for you
Categories:
fowls, analogy, appreciation, dream, extended
Form:
Free verse
From our youth, we have been taught that beauty is only skin deep;
and “It’s in the eyes of the beholder”, is what we like to teach.
Many a head has been turned, and our hearts have taken a leap.
It was breathtaking, as our captured hearts skipped a beat.
I absolutely understand this, and I do tend to agree.
Many were the working hours of driving through the marsh mellow wetlands.
I paused but could not stall as I took in the blessings of beauty in the Fall.
So pleasing and peacefully, the feathered fowls played, rested, and feasted.
So honored and privileged was I just to watch and breathe with the birds.
I have witnessed the carefree and feathered beauty of butterflies flying by.
Such artistic mixtures of colors often arrest and capture even this stoic guy.
And I’m reminded that such beauty was earned in a cocoon, and not given.
It was born out of strength and patience, and not made-up quickies.
Time was crucial, and the work was hard, as the moth long endured.
The butterfly has taught me that beauty develops in stages and unfolds over time. I must continue to learn to wait and dutifully labor through the hard times. Millions of the Monarch Butterflies spend their winters in Central Mexico. Come Spring, may I too, like butterflies, spread my wings and take flight.
12052015PS Contest: For Men Only( Would You, Could You) Write About Butterflies. 2nd contest entry 6/29/20, Butterflies And Marshes Mellow,
Kai Michael Neumann
Categories:
fowls, beautiful, butterfly, change, dedication,
Form:
Narrative
Spread, your wings and soar on high, stretch forth beyond the particle's in
the sky. Rest on a large branch, look down at the creature's of blacks and
white's. Blackbird ain't its enough to make you cry. Crime soaring high, WHY-
why Blackbird why? No one knows, no-one dare steps forth his best. NOoooo
Black bird they're to busy pointing finger's, they rather listen to the voice of
the confused "stranger". A voice that tells them, take prayers away from school's,
take away their happiness, now the grave yards are full of young one's, some
in jail, to never see success. Soar on Blackbird, fly high and don't dare sit to long.
You see blackbird, the black's doesn't know the song and the whites want's to be
left along.
Spread your wings-my fowls of the air we all must share, as you fly blackbird, as
you are trying to accept the lost and the found, spread your wings Blackbird, we're
not all bad people's. Its just that we're too busy trying to tare each other down.
Categories:
fowls, confusionvoice, voice,
Form:
Quatern
Fall
arcane drops
of burnt hawthorn,
refashion chestnut beauty
as enticing odes of jovial
amber plume fowls serenade
maple leaves, as tunnel winds cease
timber soils of stillness in calm chaos.
Extend sunsets cool moonlight greetings
I...fancy open candlelit windows alluring
subtle bliss embracing the core
values revived endng
summer’s erotic
E
N
D
Categories:
fowls, autumn, beauty, inspiration, music,
Form:
Concrete
Methinks pilots are such superior mortals
For their ability to make metals fly like fowls,
And soldiers have such an impressive mettle
That makes you salute their daring prowls.
Surgeons are such a precise and thoroughly seasoned breed
That will dumbfound with details of capillaries and veins,
And commanders-in-chief such colossal powers wantonly wield
Till they addict themselves to honor and extend their reigns.
A charismatic preacher will yodel tunes and heal the lame
And win a hefty standing among their peers in a moment;
The teacher is the final light and bearer of the last opinion
And their learned views sail without a single opponent.
But the poet is the chariot of thought that inspires them all.
He’s the silent roar of the Boeing with the pilot in,
He’s the muffled ricocheting of the soldier’s Kalashnikov;
The unspoken overtones of the preacher’s condemnation of sin,
The subtlest incision of the surgeon’s authorized blade
And the president’s solemn inspection of the honor parade.
Categories:
fowls, art,
Form:
Verse
A night’s rest is never enough for the city always calls
A new day is like a page flip from the time a night falls
A breakfast can be leftover supper to empty bowls
Or a smile for sparing the lives of crowing fowls
I duck human traffic as I rush for my day’s grind
It is just like a switch flip, how I forget what I left behind
I have one hope but a million calculations in my mind
I take the same turns and corners but I always hope for a new find
I am a jack of all trades and I can trade like a jack
When there's a lack of luck, when I slack, I turn into a flack
Tomorrows become like yesterdays, if today slumbers
Time is mostly regrets and money, it is never just numbers
Bouyant is what we all are as the tide of struggles flows
We all float to a destiny regardless of the type of oars
We rushing through rapids to a sea where everything slows
On this voyage of life the compass points at one thing, anything goes
Categories:
fowls, adventure, change, dedication, desire,
Form:
Rhyme
Hopkins snakes
Old Hopkins had a rope ladder,
To keep snakes out of the house,
Snake killing sticks under the rain water tank,
In the shower, where a snake ate the mouse,
The fowls all lived up in the trees,
Brownies were sucking eggs down, (deadly mulga snakes, dozens)
The bantams were sitting on eggs in bird nests,
Till the chickens were walking around,
Half wacked Jack, demented, said some,
Went to see a drover come through,
On a grey brumby horse, naked of course,
An was strip bollicky too, (horse riding naked)
Hopkins he said “me two best friends,
Are me shovel an hurricane light,”
He’d be punching holes ,
With crowbar alone ,
And fencing on into the night,
So if ya go near StGeorge ,
where the snakeys do gorge,
dodge death, climb up the rope ladder,
if the brownies don’t get ya,
death adders aint better,
just go to the pub it’s your shout!
Don Johnson 10-sep-11
I like this one because it is true story
Destroyer A Poet ~
Contest Name Your (OWN) favorite poem......
Categories:
fowls, adventure,
Form:
Ballad
Worry wonders and doubts
It speculates on the hopes and habits
It ponders all the thoughts and misgivings
It deliberates on the joy and kindness
It even questions the peace and serenity
Worry seeks a heart to attack
A calm to disturb with turbulence
A happiness to disappoint with sorrow
A light to snuff out with a dark thought
Worry drains souls of their pleasure
Pierces the dreams with murky shadows
Destroys the embrace of sweet grace
And sends discouragement into the spirit
Worry is a tool of the devil
Who came to seek whom he might destroy
With his lies and his doom and his despair
Worry is his device, his utensil
The instrument he uses to bring us down
So that we can’t find the faith to reach out
Toward the One who knows all about our worries
And brings us encouragement and reassurance
The inspiration and enthusiasm to refocus
On the promises He gives with His mercy and compassion
The love that arises out of the darkest moments
Love that assures us He will restore and rebuild
Despite whatever the worries might foresee
Worry is blind to the fact that
His love can diminish every doubt
Relieve every pain, erase every cloud
With the rising of His Son, His light
The One who will always work things out
Matthew 6:26 (KJV) Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?
Categories:
fowls, angst, anxiety, inspirational, jesus,
Form:
Free verse
Let the Fowls Go
Release
three geese
Fowl Abuse
I struck
my duck
Jokester Duck
Chuckling
Duckling
Crazy Bird Resort
The loon
Lagoon
Bird Mystery Novel
Who slew
Cuckoo?
The Welcomed Garden Bird
Again . . .
the wren!
Did you get enough to Drink?
Say when,
Gray wren
Most Revered Ones
Pharaoh’s
Sparrows
Bird Gazette Headline
Blind Larks
find parks
Bird Acquaintances
She knows
three crows
Categories:
fowls, bird,
Form:
Footle
Do
Do what I can ,
But but maybe old man,
I can’t do what I wanna do,
Less I can catch a good holt,
Can’t do the sweet bolt,
Till I catch me a shiela , true blue,
Do think it is slack,
But, just never look back,
Till the fowls flap, wherever they flew.
Paula Swanson
Contest Name How Due You Dew
Categories:
fowls, adventure,
Form:
Rhyme
Pioneers had to cut down thousands of trees
to build their shacks and to stay warm
in harsh winters; we cut them down
for huge profits...not caring about
the devastation of deforestation
that soon will cause floods and landslides.
When Nature dies, everything that embellishes
the lovely and green landscapes dies with it;
a land without shrubs and trees is a desert
with miles of cracked soil that rain won't saturate
and make vegetation grow to attract humans,
fauna and flora to make everything lively.
I have used my keen sight to describe it,
and instinct to anticipate the dreariness to come;
doesn't joy derive from something grown,
and beauty from something seen and admired?
But where's the commitment that all should make
to keep our land a Paradise for everyone to enjoy?
We should profoundly lament when Nature dies from neglect
and abuse...hear the sorrowful cries of fowls and wolves,
of other animals that used to roam and graze
on prairies and wild meadows on breezy days;
and how can we survive without the crops
in due season? Won't we perish and disappear like Nature?
Categories:
fowls, abuse, december, earth day,
Form:
Free verse
Long ago,the guinea fowls congregated
Clourfully and innumerably
And sang sweet songs
And played in the savanah
They sang for the for the antelopes
To leap and dance in the beautiful grass lands
The farm boys listened and danced too
And their hearts were merry
At night around the fire the folk tales were interesting;
The wild dogs barked ;
The nightjars called peacefully;
The owls clamorous,booming hoot was heard
The starry fireflies flashed in courtship elaborate dances
But the conflagrations came
And swept across the grass lands and bushvelds
The axemen were merciless ;
And by their millions the trees were severed
The poachers were ruthless
And the animals wild knew not more peace
The guinea fowls were poisoned
The nature loving farm boys beheld
All this chapter in heavy hearted silence
The guinea folws and other song birds
Shall never sing again
And the times shall never be better again.
Categories:
fowls, change, conflict, creation, earth,
Form:
Yesterday, was an adolescent,
while we where the innocuous fluorescence that lighted up the floral hopes of the sun and transformed it's smile, into a cheerful full moon.
The sky was always brightly dressed up with colourful fireworks, and sometimes it looked overdressed, due to; too much colouration of fireworks lightning outburst.
This graced up our hearts with excessive Christmas diamond feelings.
The environment, was always busy with traditional Masquerading, carol carnivals, religious activities, youthful vigil, commitment vigilance, less happiness on clutches, less money impetuosity, less darkness but more rituals, less churches, less hunger and thunderous envy, less death, more tottering and loitering from mango tree to mango, invading people's gardens for fun.
Back then, the rich neatly did; car racing, house racing, bicycle racing and duck hunt and also watched black and white television,
but all we enjoyably did, was hide and seek, played draft and ludo game, beetle hunt and most importantly; native fowl hunt, because we didn't have to go the markets to buy native fowls, they were plenty not owned fowls to save our black and white hunger.
We also bought plenty things with just one naira note, and the balance kept coming, and we never stopped buying until our pockets purged.
Although, the money was surely more than enough to waste,
but as kids, we never got staved of spending,
this is because everything we saw, looked like waterfalls from heaven.
We took so many childhood risks; we sneaked out of school, and engaged in far journey to other States, to attend trade fairs, without money on us to shop, the only money we always had in pockets, where transport fair, which we have saved for weeks from our feeding money.
Me especially as a teenager, I preferred the forest behind my school than the classroom, because it felt to me, that I understood the language of trees, birds, and crickets, more than that of my classmates and teachers, this made me choose, 'George of the jungle', 'the gods must be crazy' and 'Going Banana' as my most adored movies.
I thunder so sadly,
because never again shall all this youthful moments and feelings, breeze by again like a born again wind.
Categories:
fowls, timemoney,
Form:
Free verse
All wars scourged bodies and souls--
Torn spirits and dredged feet of the fowls
Ravished by rabid gargoyles of prey
Scuppered dreams of the reapers of hay
Wars circled the world of May
'tis emblem are ruins and remnants of flay
Wars for peace can be penned on paper
Words and spikes of chivalry of the bleeder
Ink flowing out are veins of the fighter
Scrawled blood purged from the might of the writer
Categories:
fowls, conflict, death, dream, peace,
Form:
Verse