Best Murmurations Poems
The bogs’ their fruit – the woodlands’ leaf
embrace a ripened red motif,
as cranberries and maples blaze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
Where starling murmurations dance
a breathless susurration trance,
ballet in blackbird-shape-shift haze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
And neath the cumulus, the breeze
colludes with stalks in raspy tease,
unfazed we ramble maize-field maze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
As apple-cider-sunset spills
behind the bluish granite hills,
I’m grateful for my eyes to gaze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
When rain does bead on pumpkin’s skin
his smiling face still lit within,
I pray myself be filled Your rays
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” Rumi
Upon my quest for quintessence.
I was an amorist,
positive in poetic philosophies.
Elysian and empyrean effigies,
enlightened in an ephemeral existence.
Life a fragile garland
festooned with a frangipani fragrance,
meandered in meadows of melodies,
a mouthpiece to a frivolous flute
but gone are lucent lusory lullabies.
I turned to the ballad of birds.
Dulcet desires dreamed of diamond drops,
dulcifluous, dulciloquent and diaphanous.
Delusions led to an interpretation of illicit illusions.
I became a metaphor for afflicted adjectives.
Mimesis mind became brittle and barren,
aphonic and amort - a crestfallen conscious.
A wild wallflower in an orchard of opal orchids,
slowly decomposing - in silent semblance
clocks won't stop for sojourners of the soul..
I searched for footprints left behind,
upon porcelain seraphic shores,
but knavish kismet lay lamenting,
disconsolate upon a distant island,
manifesting murmurations of a
maleficent maelstrom monsoon.
My life was once a
razzmatazz of reflections
gold, ivory and bronze,
but now silver sighs slither,
releasing a soft susurrus,
as once sapphire sylphlike skies are
now vermillion and violet visions.
Haematic horizons close the gates to heaven,
yet in my ruins, I know there is fortune,
as I polish my mirror of misfortune,
hoping it glows in canorous colours.
Before the Day morphed into Night,
a scarlet sun inked clouds of white.
And tinted the sky with its light;
a cotton candy pink delight.
Before the black birds cease to fly,
murmurations swirl through the sky.
Mesmerized, I let out a sigh,
applauding as they shapeshift by.
Before shadows merge into one,
twilight drinks the last of the Sun.
And though Dusk has barely begun,
a rising moon won't be outdone.
Before darkness slowly descends,
silhouettes merge as daylight ends.
Trees display vibrant colours that fall in a glorious, crunchy tapestry.
Fruits are ready to harvest, lush blackberries, golden crabapples, plump, purple sloes covered in their purple blush.
Prickly hedgehogs and sleepy dormice gorge themselves in readiness for their winter sleep.
Murmurations of starlings create intricate, wheeling patterns in the sky, twisting and turning in harmony.
The air smells different. Glistening dew forms on spiders webs, highlighting their beauty and strength.
Hello October, so happy to see you, Autumn is truly here.
I’ve come back to the place where I had grown,
a place no more as it once was known.
Not a roof, not a room, not one wall left,
just an old, weathered chimney standing alone.
An ill-tempered wind swept from the hillside tops
that spun relentlessly through the leafless copse
and across fallow fields long now disused
that once had yielded sustaining crops.
The skies oblique with murmurations
of small black birds that, without hesitation,
alit, then rose in tornadic swirls
of airborne dances without cessation.
A tractor sat solemnly by a clattering gate
now a rusted reminder that time won't wait.
And the path that wound to the moldering shed
overrun with thistles that sealed its fate.
And where once stood the old front door
now just a cracked and crumbled floor.
Then, as I turned and faced the chimney tall,
familiar voices resonated once more.
Though perceived, still filled with laughter
and childlike questions of timeless matter
from a once-close family about the hearth
brought a blissful end to life’s daily chapter.
I stood silently, my senses sublimely allured,
while present time was much obscured;
my melancholic thoughts embraced
those voices from the hearth I heard.
Then, all illusions gone, the chimney tall
seemed out of place without a wall,
without a family ‘round it girthed,
a silent sentinel that should never fall.
I turned and walked, my thoughts unspoken,
and knew well now the chains were broken;
but though the chimney, which stood unscathed,
meant nothing more than memory’s token.
John Henry Gardner
© 2017 – All rights reserved
Do not shed tears or grieve my death;
I do not fear my final breath.
I've felt the wind tussle my hair,
and when seasons changed, I was there.
I've danced amidst falling raindrops,
and watched Nature quench thirsty crops.
I've seen murmurations of birds,
and filled books with poetic words.
I've seen a sky full of stars shine,
ate gourmet foods, and drank fine wine.
I've witnessed Day morph into Night,
crossed seas, and experienced flight.
I've walked on fluffy flakes of snow,
and observed the tides ebb and flow.
I've loved, and received love in turn,
and my heart's felt passion's flame burn.
I've lived, now I'm ready to die,
there's no reason for you to cry.
a coat of stars
on a shiny night you
wear
and thrive in #'s (almost)
everywhere
Mozart taught you to sing
everything
recite poetry
and greet those
who stumbled in
you are precious
to me
yet so hated
they patent your name
for poison
and rage
Starlicide
now
half of what you were
your murmurations
still
smoke the sky
just not here
this year
my dear
my darling
Starling
Miss Jessica Finch, the avian sleuth
Was scratching out novels and sipping vermouth.
She lived a charmed life when she was quite young;
Her first book, “The Voyeur: Peeking Duck Hung”.
“Peacocked and Loaded,” no rivals, unequalled.
“All Bluster, No Muster, “ a fan-favored sequel.
“Migratory Murmurations of a Wandering Heart”
And “Starling, My Darling,” her cross-over art.
“Covey of darkness: the Unpheasant Truth”
Shines light in glass houses, unkempt and uncouth.
The one she’s best known for, that everyone one knows
That suspenseful thriller, “A Murder of Crows.”
But the one she loves best, that still gives her pause,
The brilliant court drama, “Probable Caws.”
————-
for the A Flock of Birds Poetry Contest
sponsored by Julia Ward
written on 09/24/22
she smiles in the shadows
of the dead end street
living her rag doll life
the only femme fatale
of our mannequin town
a midnight detective
going down the low road
a butterfly at the crime scene
alone in the evening breeze
her night talk full of
wallpaper poetry
her velvety voice
singing the drunken bird songs
her troubled mind
full of murmurations.
I’m so happy I could die
lifting her veil in the storm
so let’s dream a little.
Murmurations.
.
As thickening dusk
Subdues the tiring day
Flocks of starlings rest
Trilling and chattering in array
Upon tendril branches of trees
High up in the towering eves
As numbers increase
In readiness
.
Suddenly they alight as one
The tress now bare as the eves
Of their feather laden leaves
And one of the most spectacular
And phenomenal sights of creation
Awe inspiring and fascinating has begun
.
A shifting cloud of wing and feather
In syncretization in formation
Put on a magnificent air display
That has mystified the observer
Since the dawn of time
And took their breath away
.
Swooping sweeping darting cloud across
The expanse of sky
An elaborate dance of in perfect formation
And a change of direction in an instant they fly
Athletic acrobatic nubile and agile
That few words can explain or testify
.
The acrobatics now over
The sky differs once more
Descend to the trees towering eves
To rest and to roost
Like littered feathered leaves.
.
Peter Dome©2020.
Fickle sunbeams tickle fluttering daydreams...…
Lyrical lapping lullaby encores...
Gingerly stroke sandy shell shattered shores..
Starlings spy…sky high murmurations...
Skimming stones....slicing silky sheens..
Voluptuously verdant riddles…islands within idylls...
Scattered daffy darlings..dilly dally...
Sunshine splattered chlorophyll candles...
Animosity as an ersatz monstrosity shines…
Saluting highfalutin pomposity..devouring skylines..
Notes of cut grass gloats floats from..
Middle class mowed manicured marvels..
Criss cross collaborations… surf the tailored turf....
Billiards baize ablaze with petrichor whiffs
Festooned with afternoon nana nap snores..
The radio's heavenly hum of cricket scores...
A duvet of familiar riffs...murmurs of what if's..
An inkling..whispers of summer's sprinkling serendipity twinkling..
The murmurations of a wounded heart,
one's rhythm lost, alone and incomplete,
are but a silent cry for where Thou art,
regardless how irregular the beats.
The walls, once closing in and much compressed,
are now relaxed, expanding in relief;
a heart is meant for love and joy expressed,
not soured by the bile of unbelief.
Lord, calm my fears and set my heart at rest,
and send Your spirit coursing through my veins.
Fill every emptiness within my chest
till naught but that which longs for you remains.
A heart song, scarce contained, yet pounding free,
finds true delight when locked in step with Thee.
Squeaks shrieks and whistling chirps
mixed with mimicry, colourful
spotted speckled iridescent darlings
Pixilated torturous waves at dusk
mesmerising murmurations escaping the day
starlings, self-pursued sardines of the sky
flowing contorting distorting, fly.
Squeaks shrieks and whistling chirps
mixed with mimicry, colourful
spotted speckled iridescent darlings
Pixilated torturous waves at dusk
mesmerising murmurations escaping the day
starlings, self-pursued sardines of the sky
flowing contorting distorting, fly
Ode to life
As I sought the sapling
Laying it deep within the soil
And tending to its needs
I felt the divine light on me
Watching it everyday
As the clouds passed
And cast their shadow
In sweet bewilderment
Within its infinite summit
I felt the divine light on me
Watching it everyday.
Flocks of sheep strolling the hills
Beneath the boughs of lustrous leaves
The wind blowing in the distance
Causing dry leaves to float
I felt the divine light on me
Watching it everyday.
The steeple rises above darkened roofs
The pigeons swarming to find seed
Cars and buses bustling by
As dawn streaks the sky
I felt the divine light on me
Watching it everyday.
After the ravages of the day
Till dusk adorns itself
The orchestra of lives
Until the cloak of dark settles
I felt the divine light on me
Watching it every day
The echo of receding murmurations
Intertwined in the abyss of waterfalls
Reconciled in the mist of time
Searching a new destination
I felt the divine light
Watching it everyday.
As scented roses fill the air
And dew drops bring the
Promise of a new morrow
Each blade looks to light
I feel the divine light
Watching it every day.