Best Nuthatch Poems
I set up my writing spot in front of the window
Then, I found myself in this ongoing trance
Nature was on stage, it chose to put on a show
As the cold wind blew, I watched all the trees dance
The warmth from the woodstove, merged with sunlight
Writing slowed down to a sleepy, calm, inside
A Nuthatch caught my attention upside-down after flight
It seemed my muse had found a refuge to hide
So many distractions, I questioned my writing spot
As the world outside, kept with skipping on by
Yet, the things to write about, surely were a lot
So, I went back to the paper and let my pen fly
Here it all is, observations from inside-out
From warmth to the cold, to the living all around
From stillness to movement, silence to a shout
Writing can be magical from anything that’s found
11/23/21
Entry For the “W” New Poems Poetry Contest. Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Writing
SQUAWK
A nuthatch built a twiggy nest
A cockatoo showed off her elegant crest
A bluejay stole a hummingbird's egg
A flamingo sleeps on just one leg
A seagull fought for an ocean snail
And Daffy Duck pulled Donald Duck's tail!
The white-breasted nuthatch
upside down the ancient bole.
If it has no soul, neither do I.
Pencils criss-crossed on the desk,
sticks tangled on the ground.
Oblong lenticels, yellow stars.
We try to worship the divine
in our sexual partners. They **** and sweat diurnally
and fear their deaths. But the abstract
God has also died. He lied to say he was
eternal. Earth must burn, universe grow cold.
Old field species become ornamentals.
Mosquitoes prey on us, and black flies.
The body decays, and this is what you come
to love. And the ants that carry it away.
This morning, the profusion of species
contents me. The temperate zone is warm, late May.
The posture of that bird is good to emulate.
The songs of birds can be heard
send a message without a word.
Skeptics say they're just sound
others find them quite profound.
A peaceful call to nature's mind
from winged friends of every kind.
Listen with the ears of your heart -
"Kok...Kok...Kok..." Ravens passing by...
"Twe-u...Twe-u...Twe-u..." Robins about to fly...
Earbirding language from mnemonic sounds -
"Squeer...Squeer..." poke the Woodpecker way...
"Kyew...Kyew...Kyew..." what the Osprey say...
Hope for the rise of the Phoenix -
"Kee-yer...Kee-yer..." the Hawk meets his match...
"Pippit...Pippit...Pippit..." from the lively Nuthatch...
Circumambulating birds circle in ancient ritual -
"Tu-whit...Tu-whoo..." the Owl will do...
"Cau...Cau...Cau..." Crows insist to you...
Your song may be a trilling coo -
"Chirry...Chirry...Chirry..." sings the Mourning Dove...
"Chiddik...Chiddik...Chiddik..." Sparrows sigh above...
There is a call for your new beginning -
"Wee-zee...Wee-zee...Wee-zee..." a Warbler whirs...
"Toot-sweet...Toot-sweet..." the Bobwhite stirs...
Look for Lark, Loon, Grackle 'n Gull
listen to Quail then Oriole.
Cries, begs, rasp and wheeze
songs 'n sounds that seem to please.
Bird words of the inner mind
meanings within hard to find.
In the holy spot
with the sitting rock,
an oak. Out back
shagbark hickory
and maple.
Ants climb the rock.
August, birds
celebrate flowering
weeds, the seeds
of autumn to come.
I am here to name it
and know it and help it
to grow. These mountains
are my grave. A good grave
to go to.
The crows have been
in conference, again.
A jay, blue, pokes
a hole through reality.
I find sumacs fruiting
and the male sex organs
of the Queen Anne’s lace.
Juncos glean the lawn,
an occasional nuthatch
in the butternut.
I hear a pileated
woodpecker jackhammering
and my neighbor’s skill saw
chirring. Ants crawl
on connecting interlacing instructions.
Could you sit with me awhile?
You need not speak.
You need not listen.
Just sit and look, scan the yard,
watch the trees as they shed their leaves,
see the holly and its bright berries
turning red against the green.
Watch closely and soon you’ll see a leaf
floating gently to the ground
and there on a distant tree
a nuthatch flitting down the trunk.
Sit awhile.
I know your restlessness as the day moves on,
so much to do, places to go
being busy, obsessed by your responsibilities.
Just a moment longer please.
Listen now, only a minute more
this subtle quiet wakes your soul,
it feeds your mind and heart.
It brings you back
to who you really are.
Do you feel it deep within your bones
and recognize the you you’ve always known.
Please, sit with me, speak your heart and soul
and
I will do the listening now.
On the back deck,
snow has turned two empty chairs,
sitting beside the shrouded grill,
into phantoms with open arms
waiting for corn to roast,
peppers to lose their crisp edges,
onions to gather sweetness,
and shrimp to hold their fibrous flavor
for the taster's tongue.
Birds by the score, alerted
by the snowy air, raid
the feeder above the grill.
Woodpeckers come,
the hairy, the downy, the nuthatch
the ladder-backed, feasting on suet.
Smaller birds ignore fear
(and the watchers behind glass),
bravely eat beside their enemy
as they dart, hop, fly on, over,
and under, two chairs and a grill.
Who among you is named Clark?
"I am!" said the meadow lark
Who here bares the name of Pearl?
"I do!" said the eastern squirrel
Who's a mean old Visigoth?
"That's me!" said the lazy sloth
Who's the biggest silly nerd?
"Me!" said the bee-eater bird
Whose favorite candy is a Necco?
"Mine!" exclaimed the tokay gecko
Who forgot to wear a tie?
"I did!" said the dragonfly
Who wants to ride the teeter-totter?
"Me of course!" replied the otter
Who's been dating pretty Juana?
"I have! The marine iguana!"
Who has the most precious smile?
"I!" said the Nile Crocodile.
Who eats cookies by the batch?
"Me! The red-breasted nuthatch!"
Who wants this to end right now?
"Me I guess, an annoyed old cow."
Ode to the Nuthatch.
that little Assup.
It hunts on trees,
for seeds bugs and nuts.
It won't hunt head up,
it doesn't find as much.
Ode to the Nuthatch,
That Wise little Assup.
My Grand Pa always called them Assup's
It seems Apropos.
H.Elles,
Total
Rogue,
As I sit on the bench, watching nature's lively moments,
The Tufted Titmouse, Chickadee and Nuthatch look at me
Their small beady eyes are staring in the air
The Robin bounce near the Mourning Dove on the lawn
I can hear the Woodpecker hammer and the Black Crow caw
Goldfinch and Eastern Bluebirds sit on stair posts to the porch
Or they choose the thin branches of the holly bush nearby
The lush garden is filled with Aster, Dalia, and Roses
Colors burst where the Hummingbird visit red blossoms
This magical, fluttering beauty, ignites my inspiration
In a breeze reaching me, settling in my soul, where I sit
Feeling light as the white trellis, balancing between the rocks
I am secure in a garden full of life, simply watching the birds
2/10/23
Entry for a simple pleasure Poetry Contest. Sponsor: Julia Ward
Theme chosen: Watching birds in the garden.
Looking at the backyard down through a window
Brought a smile on my lips watching the scene below
A squirrel was sniffing around some bushes
Another one was scurrying up and down on oak tree branches
A humming bird was drinking nectar from lantana flowers
A purple colored dragonfly was hovering around purple blossoms of crape myrtle
Pairs of house finches were chirping loudly in great excitement
A nuthatch and a titmouse also joined the melody with their own distinctiveness
A thought came to my mind of mindfulness
Isn’t it just taking time to observe the present moment with awareness?
the Nuthatch visits
having a lunch in winter
leaving freedom here
Heidi Sands
12/22/20
There's a Nuthatch knocking on my door,
Politely asking me for more,
And Chickadees chirping por favor.
The Blue Jays are squawking all out war,
A Crow just told me to do my chore;
There's a ruckus brewing I can't ignore.
The feeder is empty. The Birds implore...
I am awakened by my snore.
Is that somebody at my door?
02.19.19
Songbirds Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
You come in such humongous flocks
to lunch at my well stocked seed box.
You stay until each grain is gone,
call in the troops and journey on.
Why are you such a greedy fellow,
black-bird with wings of red or yellow?
Your mate in her more subdued hue
is too good for the likes of you.
Her sweet demeanor doesn't scare
the smaller feathereds feeding there,
but you chase all except your own
with beat of wing and shriek of tone.
I try to save a little feed
for the little fellows more in need;
the wren, the finch, the chickadee
who thought they could depend on me
to feed them through the winter's cold.
They can't compete with one so bold.
When you have gone, I hurry out
to scatter some more seed about,
but sure as fate from the thin air
you and voracious friends are there
to gobble each nutritious bite
and put the little ones to flight.
Do you think, because of bright adorn
that you deserve all of the corn?
I know when the farmer plants his seed
you'll find a better place to feed.
The nuthatch and the sweet wren-tit
can then sing songs and dine a bit.
By: Joyce 2007
sideways glance
nuthatch
with a nosy laugh
;),