Best Lifebird Poems
Odd bird stands out among the seaside flocks
Taller, leaner with red stripes round one eye
Squats in the sand, oblivious to mocks
Opens his beak, emitting a strange cry
Gulls spread their wings, rise high and relocate
Odd bird remains, doesn’t take to the sky
Acceptance by others is not his fate
Solitude is all he has ever known
Feathers unruffled, he lives without hate
One of a kind, this bird has no clone
Staying true to himself, his strength is shown
Life deals a tough blow,
Cards of fate seem stacked against you.
Pressures of life pile on thick,
The weight of the world, burring you deep.
Love is not your forte,
No good can you see.
Pause in your thoughts and open your eyes,
Take a look around you, what do you see?
Mountains of rubble, built up to the sky,
Cesspits of rubbish, cluttering the street.
Black clouds of doom, hovering above,
A bird hanging on for life, as the wind sways his branch.
Now close your eyes, and take a deep breath,
Look again at what you see, through eyes refreshed.
Mountains of rubble, their testament to ability,
Cesspits of rubbish, dancing with energy in the street.
Black clouds not of gloom, but filled with life,
A bird in the tree, enjoying the energy of the wind.
From the worms under foot, to the birds up above,
Look beyond your first glance, see with your heart.
From the smallest of things, ugly and course,
To largest of entities, glorious in sight.
Take the time to see, the beauty within,
To find the energy to heal, your peace will then begin.
Pretty little bird sitting in her cage
So perfect and pretty
sitting still
Watching the other birds laugh and play
Thinking to herself maybe one day
Days gone by and years move on
Looking through the bars, she waits so long
Waits for someone to open her cage
Open the lock, open the door
Waits for someone, waits for more
Pretty little bird sits
perfect and still
Cause good little birds fly free someday
They float through the sky
Up so high
Floating so high
Floating so high
Pretty little bird sits
perfect and still
So many years, unbridled fears, soft flowing tears
Waiting, waiting, waiting
Waiting, waiting, waiting
Pretty little bird slowly breathes
Slowly sees how to fly free
Pretty little bird lies
perfect and still
Her last breath flows
And she can finally see
The invisible cage
The one she made
The one she created
The one she hated
Pretty little bird is finally free
She’s finally free
Flying so high
Up so high
Forever and ever
And ever in time
Forever and ever
To peaceful sublime
Form:
A bird can fly
A bird can sing
But it can also start falling
A human is like a bird
With feelings so fragile
With hearts that can be pure
Even we some times
Can start to fall
So ask me
How does it feel to be a bird,
A bird that's falling?
My answer is very simple
Humans are fragile
They don't want hurt
They see themselves as kings
But really are not near there
A person hurt by words
Is a falling bird indeed
A person pained for no reason
Is a falling bird
Many people are falling birds
Birds that never find there way back up
Now can you answer this
Are you a falling bird?
Form:
Crows
By- Manuel Martinez
The morning rays are what I’m told a blessing for today Well,
I’ve been lied to.
Morning’s hell and the afternoon a drag
Out of tricks and broke like bricks
I can’t brag.
Over and done with evening’s dare
No rings with strings
So you won’t stare.
Walking past building blocks
And speedy clocks
I came across a crow.
Without stopping walked with shock and awe
This crow moved none at all.
Standing Center Street like one of a kind
With moving cars swerving and curving
It seemed this bird had one thing on mind,
Dying.
I felt the same and thought what a shame but
Why a crow’s view is but a mirror cracked
So why didn’t I think of that.
What a small cage and corner the bird is trapped
It saw when life was snapped.
Truth came with proof without a say
Aren’t we all crows in some way?
Looking for loves, hopes, dreams and futures in
Empty places,
The suites and boots are but a crow’s cowardly place
And with that said
Crows are us through broken glass.
And so,
Many years of passing
I still wonder of that bird on the center street
With cage and corner.
Did it survive and endure the hard labor of life or simply wither into nothing like the
fallen leaf
Off a hollow tree?
I myself being a crow have lived through spaces
And spaces of
Time and places
Like a bad book of empty
Pages.
Are you a crow?
Form:
No bird remains to sing his song
So silence pounds the whole day long
In beat with memory of the day
I clapped to make him go away
The fault, it clearly lies with me
The bird was what the bird should be
Now I live knowing I was wrong
To want to silence any song
…Inspired by ‘A Minor Bird’ by Robert Frost