Best Jackdaw Poems
On Lindisfarne, they say,
St Cuthbert took a hooded crow,
A jackdaw and a jay,
And on their strident tongues bestowed
The gift of harmony.
No more did ugly croaks and caws
Dispute above the sea,
Or trouble those sequestered shores.
They sang all day, those three;
And as they drew their corvine kin,
The devil wept to see
His shrinking nursery of sin.
Categories:
jackdaw, bird, christian, faith, sea,
Form:
Rhyme
Where have they gone?
Where have all the commuters gone?
Said an old Fox nuzzling my hand.
I usually hide and sleep during the day,
Not that I’m complaining you understand.
Where have all the motor cars gone?
Thought a Hedgehog crossing the road.
Usually I must run for my life,
To reach safety and family abode.
Where have all the children gone?
Cried the Ducklings down on the pond.
We haven’t been fed for weeks,
Of that stale bread, we are so fond.
Where have all the vapor trails gone?
Squawked Jackdaw high in his tree.
When I was bored, I could count the lines,
On a good day, fifty-two or fifty-three.
Where have all the Rat poisoners gone?
Gnawed a large rodent leaving his drain.
I am free to infest all your houses,
Causing havoc and crazed panic again.
Where have all the hunters gone?
Cooed Game-birds flying free and high.
No lunatics beating the bushes,
Compelling us to be blasted from the sky.
Where have all the people gone?
Cheered the animals reclaiming their land.
We normally stay out of your way,
The world is ours now, do you understand.
Categories:
jackdaw, animal, bird, freedom,
Form:
Rhyme
What have you done, for you look like a perch?
On Botox you should've done some research
I won't sugarcoat it
You look very bloated
Your face is engorged, and some will besmirch
Resembling a puffer with puckered lips
I wanna pop them with my fingertips
Dress yourself up in lace
Get rid of that fish face
Girl, you better get real and come to grips!
Your booty sticks out. You've such a huge butt
People laugh behind your back when you strut
They giggle and they wink
Some even say you stink
Like a three-day old catch of Halibut
Your teeth are threatening like a hungry shark
Who'd bite me like a mad dog with a bark
You're known as a stinker
Caught, hook, line and sinker
People point at you and call you a snark
You are as fishy as a speckled trout
So nice to people before it's found out
It's nothing but a show
Just a smoke screen you blow
A tasteless fish thrown back, without a doubt
You've earned the deserved name of big mouth bass
A loose lip fish without an ounce of class
Kicked out of many schools
Cause they didn't like fools
Shunned by all the Tropicals known as wrasse
You've been compared to the swimmer called 'carp'
A lesser species whose teeth are quite sharp
A catch that's not a prize
Most fishermen despise
No angel fish when it plays on a harp
Sometimes you resemble a red snapper
Belting out words like a winded rapper
Blah blah blah, on you jaw
Irksome as a jackdaw
You sound like the news anchor, Jake Tapper
When you swim in the pool, you're called a whale
Ya think that's due to the size of your tail?
In candy you indulge
It's the cause of your bulge
You might want to try a diet of kale
Categories:
jackdaw, fish, humor,
Form:
Limerick
He heard the crows,
morning-cawing-crows,
morning-language-cawing-crows.
There was for him,
always, uncertainty in the cawing,
an uncertainty he couldn’t hear,
though he tried for most of his life.
There was brotherhood, yes, brotherhood—
an association-brotherhood, a knowing, an approval,
with only one man to answer—himself.
If he could be the man with the answer,
he would really know the crow-uncertainty-language,
then his own, yet unknown need for approval would be released.
He thought, Oh, to be in the crow’s nest at feeding time.
Magnanimous tutors all, crows, Kafka-ing their way through life,
with K their jackdaw father— great approval there.
He thought, Don’t wait for that one.
He wondered if he’d been under a spell,
the crow-uncertainty-language-spell
of Beckleigh, beeches, bluegills,
shrubs and lightning bugs that sang their own cawing-choruses
in waxed paper covered mayonnaise jars.
Beckleigh, where he and neighbor children
called out from tree-castles,
from every named and friendly bush,
and in mimetic blessedness
that flowed from every child’s heart,
cast their primal caw, caw, caw in tones that pleased the earth itself.
Each step they made, each caw that came
pledged allegiance to some truth,
with approval from below shooting up their legs,
and wind and sun sweeping it into their nostrils.
Dedication and commitment never fell out of season.
One day after years took hold of
Beckleigh, beeches, crows and caws
he heard the distant cry of uncertainty,
like Echo, throwing her voice across the chambers of his heart.
He sensed an essence, perhaps love itself—he paused;
morning-cawing-crows,
morning-language-cawing-crows,
caw, caw, caw.
Oh, to be in the crow’s nest at feeding time.
Categories:
jackdaw, animals, childhood, imagination, nature
Form:
Free verse
If only we could fly like
those that tweet or hoot
without aid of jet or
parachute
For I sure don't like
wings that roar
just so that they take off
and soar
Ah to fly without diesel
or fuel
Oh to halt that midair
duel
Birds they don't pollute
the air
nor need they any airline
fare
So if only I too could rise
and glide
and let the wind be my
sole guide
I'd be happy to fly all the
way to 'em' stars
if I was assured I'd risk
no charred scars.
Flying without aviation
formalities
I could be sightseeing
many more cities
Ah I so wish to fly just
like a jay or jackdaw
Then I'd fly across all and
every border
For I'd know nor follow
no man-made law!
Categories:
jackdaw, bird, flying,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
A dish issue is whether the verb forms a series of events containing two or three ingredients. Ingredients are often officially interesting when placed. And material such as Velcro is very very useful when balancing on a widespread bed of crockery. Well cook then. Worldy worldwide without waste. And a hare is never a problem when hopping through an abyss. Calibres of officialdom. Wow. No problem at a beach house and home and away for the weekend is fine but the other side of the United Methodist Church is the name of the first place of worship. Oh dare one meet a jackdaw in a cardboard car. Or a ministerial monkey. Holidaying hopping hippies have havens. And bend not over a crevasse as dangers stem from rock. And blades spawn from spacial secrets. Secretary then. A portly lady humming. Hahahaha and now a salty dew. Hahahaha and an additional android arguing. Hahahaha dare to swim with the dog. *** multiplication z
Categories:
jackdaw, anniversary, autumn, beautiful, betrayal,
Form:
The jackdaw is a curious bird
He hops and runs along,
His genial “tchak, tchak” can be heard –
Alas, he has no song.
Why look these corvine birds so old ?
Jet black and hooded grey,
With beady eye and black beak, bold,
They chase small birds away.
Corvus Monedula is his name,
It’s from the Latin took,
With habits very much the same
Some take him for a rook.
Poor old Jack, has no collective
For meeting with his friends,
He shouts “Tchak ! Tchak!” and this invective
‘Gainst all mankind he sends.
Most creatures have collective nouns,
It really is an oddity –
No way to name this gang of clowns ?
I’ll christen them JOCUNDITY !
Categories:
jackdaw, bird, funny, humorous, nature,
Form:
Verse
Wish You Were Here
The hay bales golden, crimsons and ochre sere leaves fallen-- the caw of the Jackdaw
There was no Nightmare until after the fall, painted and swooned like a Fuseli
the clouds float in staccato and layered rich tones: vibrato from sparrows joins the chorus
the suffering alluring woman frail calling on Nature, who chides the mawkish
yet still holds in her in Her own way,
as she ambles and thinks of loves’ long ago
sadness your becoming frailty; weakness a handmaiden, its alluring on you
and there is a mourning call from the maw of the jackdaw
and the skies go crimson, deep ambers until a now purplish blue
and the clouds become negatives as rotation continue-- I see the first star
appear and think of all the females who thought love’s true
“Boot in the face, the brute. brute heart of a brute like you” said Plath
Tolstoy’s males prevail, the amative women frail, and frailty is true
The tender heart a pulpy thing is simply the mind at war
And Nature now turned to dusky twilight transforms her as before
Categories:
jackdaw, lost love,
Form:
Acrostic
Raven-- Jackdaw or Rook,
Adaptable and Intelligent Crook!
Very Black or Black with Gray,
Every Caw-- An Ill-Omen, some say.
Never More: Poe-- such a grave day!
Categories:
jackdaw, pets
Form:
Acrostic
Jackdaw of poems
Oh look shiny new words, mine
stolen words and thoughts
Categories:
jackdaw, writing,
Form:
Haiku
Which flying bird shall I choose to be?
Would Bird of Paradise suit me?
Owl, falcon or hawk might be fun.
Bohemian waxwing is on the run.
Trumpeter Hornbill or Military Macaw?
King vulture or Jackdaw?
Flamingo with her peachy color?
I can’t decide. I’ll ask my mother.
Categories:
jackdaw, 1st grade, 2nd grade,
Form:
Rhyme
The pricking needles of cold stars and hoarfrost
hypnotizingly sparkling in the dense crispy air,
a half-sky pearl hallo crowns the dead mercury-liquid Moon;
violent blizzards have been finally superseded by severe frost.
Grasses are peacefully sleeping under the snow whiteness.
Fords, Mercedeses, BMWs, Nissans are moving slowly
groping their way through thick clouds of exhaust mist;
rare chilly passers-by hurrying
towards a hopefully better for existence place.
Here, in the rare air of winter, through the mist
and frost of weariness and apathy,
through the concrete substance of the night wind,
a brightly lit advertising poster screams right into eyes
and minds:"WE WILL WIN! United Russia", and the never
hibernating on his three-color way grizzly-bear
looks as ever strong, resolute and satisfied.
There is no bum soaker, no thief, no whore
under the dead-festive-rosy light of the street lamps.
No single crow or dog or jackdaw in the dead space
of eternal frost. All they have gone.
In winter, conscience seems to be a too abstract matter.
The colored scraps are much more essential.
Nov 25, 2011
------------------------------------------
a constructive critique is welcome
Categories:
jackdaw, social,
Form:
Free verse
Three black birds
Feeding on my lawn
Display their different characters.
Rook is king
With murderous bill,
Strutting, marking out his manor.
Comical
Jackdaw hops about –
The cheeky chimney chatterer.
Never yet
Intimidated
By the threat of advancing rook.
He quickly
Steals the stale bread crust,
Braving the rook’s road-breaking beak.
Respectful
Blackbird waits his turn,
Golden monocled eye, watching,
With patience,
Diligence, he waits,
Then swoops to gather up the crumbs.
Categories:
jackdaw, bird, nature,
Form:
Fibonacci
Maestro! I lost all the keys, all the lost keys
but I'm just a smudgy decoy, right?
awoken after the rising superstition
awoken after the old wheelchair genocide
I was bored in this theatre marionette
as a hopeful jackdaw, as a monstrous cyanide
disembodied voices took my luminous ladders
to the nocturnal visitor, his oncoming oversight
strange Faun's path brought me to the ravenous pit
but I am unafraid, back seat dead passenger
with translucent crowd and lavender sheep
my fragile sanity is the last one to inherit
monument made of dust and black bones
crestfallen crescendo of weird silent matinée
lunar throne made of my shallow backbone
bittersweet games for days and bloody soirée
I'm just a captive child of the nonsense murmurs
domed house of moan in a ramshackle park
the infamous orchard of final requests
the prince of wild northern winds incoming from afar
but you're oblivious, like wartime waltz
like a mahogany gorge within medical prophecy
devastating reconstruction of forty fractures
fatally bizarre like Machine, the almighty
do you see? the ludicrous stallions on the storm
nuclear wreckage of bullet brainwashing
shiny leather coat at the weird urn exhibition
we're the ivory chessmen in a paranoid town
and I'm your grotesque piper
with well-known manic grin
Categories:
jackdaw, imagery, surreal,
Form:
Free verse
PARTENZA REPRESA
POETRY
-
THE BIRDS IN MY GARDEN
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The birds in my garden, seasons decide.
Seasons decide. Hardened species abide,
Species abide, like sparrows, all seasons.
All seasons why? My alarm, good reasons.
A Robbin, probably more, who can tell?
More, who can tell? Together could be hell!
Could be hell! Well they'll battle, unless mates,
Unless mates, probably death, it equates!
Robins, all year round, Goldfinches late Spring.
Goldfinches late Spring, a pair had a fling.
A pair had a fling, sad, got molested!
Got molested, found by cats, expected!
Blue and Great **** Winter, late Spring, Hedge Sparrow,
late Spring, Hedge Sparrow, long after the snow.
Long after the snow, a Jackdaw or two.
Jackdaw or two, hinterland corvids, nice view.
Blue and Great **** Winter, late Spring, Hedge Sparrow
Black Birds, nesting Collards in pine pollards.
Starlings at a bollards birdbath drinking.
Birdbath drinking, more birds this year singing
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Categories:
jackdaw, bird, spring, winter,
Form: