Best Owls Poems
Their covenant wings
Like cherubim on alters
Spread out for preying
It was a cold and brisk
February night I stepped outside
To take a short stroll to the dumpster.
The sky was clear, almost starless.
Waves of muffled car engines
Whispered by every now and again
Just opposite the tree line
Behind my abode.
Parking lot and street lights
Kept their nightly vigil assuring
Safe passage to all who crossed
Beneath their path.
Late night flights flashed their lights
As they begin final approach
Like a beacon in the midnight sky.
Randomly lit windows throughout
The complex buildings keep
Night owls company as
Hours grow later.
I smile as I bask in
The night’s symphony
Waves of muffled car engines
Whispering every now and again.
Hearing only my footsteps as they
Echo between the walls
The creaking of my door brings
A rush of welcomed heat
As it lovingly hugs me
And I lock my door.
In a final sigh of relaxation
I kick off my shoes and retreat
Back to my nightly comfort zone
My couch, my drink and my pen
On this cold and brisk poetic night.
3/2/20
Happy pumpkins
Apple dumplings
Licorice sticks
Lollipops to lick
Owls hooting
Witches looting
Emerald city dreams
Every Halloween
Needling together fun things
snowy owl's feathers,
soft and white as winter snow,
silent sentinel…
if owls were as wise
as our wyandotte indians
how would we approach
Napping on shifting boughs, a restful stirring
Moving the spirit to sing and dance, soaring,
Gliding over the cloudless night, skies blurring.
Resting on gentlest night, sleep so restoring,
Remembering to screech at the morning light,
Forests are flooded by those who’ve been snoring.
Wisdom invites hearts to sing of all that’s right,
With this world, which seldom brings our lives much praise,
Kind souls sometimes cling to a forgiving night.
On the nocturnal, wings flutter like a maze,
Silently settling with music in desires,
Who ripple through my heart, so I can stargaze.
Just being myself is all my soul requires,
Heartening this owl’s dreams before life expires.
Many many moons ago
leaving the porch
of a south-facing canyon,
I hiked to a place
where the foothills
narrowed,
Where the asphalt road
ran astride the reservoir lake
into which kingfishers
dived at will,
and Great Horned owls
hooted at passerby,
And crickets chirped
in the castor bean
in the broom grass,
in the sumac and sorrel
and the scrub oak
and the sage,
I walked with gathering dusk
upslope to the ridge
where one lone bat
in diving approach,
plunged to air
as kingfisher to lake,
As owl to moon
or as moon to owl
or as owl to owl,
two owls upon the perch
fated couple
to a lifelong mate.
At this very place
I saw my mission unfold
in ceremony of solemn joining
in deepest respect
this wedded pair
framed aside starlight,
Framed within angles
of better aspect
placing male to left
female to right,
then married them there
till death do they part,
He in a cassock of feathers
all attention to duty
she with a blink
of a solitary eye,
I with a wave
of the official hand,
"I decree thee man and wife"
I the chaparral poet of authority
captain on this ship
I do wed thee,
witnessed by bat and kingfisher
cricket and castor bean.
And so my sudden voice
startled both to flight
he with wings to eclipse
the moon, the sky
she in silence
winged forever to his side.
Owls search the dark night
To feed on all life that moves
head spins I see You
For Animal Haiku Contest
“Hawks, Owls and Kestrels”
No man is coming to save you.
This wisdom gathered uplifting
in the wings of Owls, Hawks and Kestrels
under the years that are cloaked
in passing Moons and Suns,
spoken close inside by those that raised them.
Peace is found within the Queen of the Night’s
own storms of flight, treasure held in knowledge
acquired from walking through the mud, and
rising up across an unforgettable ocean, Life,
the past washed backwards on the tides
dissolves, as ego must eventually;
each Isis drops the search for missing parts,
and in the shedding of this suffocating belief,
ruffles feathers to achieve
the spreading of their belief in much better worlds,
the carnal birthing and creating of all that truly matters -
small exists here - it is birthed larger in all other after-worlds,
no need for fear when no man comes calling to save you -
Mary in her robes of blue with halo shining bright,
still stands firmly on the lower realm’s tail, its artificial light,
its pitiful scaled and measured worthless blight,
strength is proven like belief in something
more powerful contained inside you - it is evolving;
"No man is coming to save you. I lead first", each Innana says,
"I gave birth to the original strength of faith,
that which walks on water at its greatest,
that which is inherited from me, I Am that I Am,
such a God arrives eventually
unveiled within the You of You,
its true face undressed before a mirror
holds out its hand and eventually, pulls you through,
it's the second coming for You, to such better worlds."
Hawks, Owls and Kestrels.
Their talons hold on fast -
they never give up on that true I Am that matters most;
they drop the unnecessary, to the underworld below, as worthless dung.
If not here, then in another life
in a much better world,
the Goddess in you is held as One
Candide Diderot. ‘25
Last night I asked my sisters
Why they were not hooting
Little owl said no one missed her
She would hoot when she so suited
Middle owl asked why did I care
Hooting is not what it used to be
Go 'google' hooters if you dare
For more than you ever want to see
'Hoot hoot hooray,' I hooted proudly
Wise owl like me knows to overlook
I will try to hoot quite loudly
And follow directions in the owl book
I helped little sister build a warm nest
Assured her everything would be 'owl' right
Middle sister decided it would be best
If we showed 'whoo' we are tonight
Darkness falls, noise is clearer
An incessant convolution of forest sounds
Each in a place where all can see her
Three sister owls hooting upside down
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Written 2-3-2016
For Owls Personification Contest by Eve Roper
2nd Place
Owls, Silent Magic In Flight
Owls in flight glide so deadly silent
prey dies so quickly and violent
Claws just as sharp as a razor knife
nightime is the owl's hooting life!
Resting in tall trees in the hollow
the night's moon they have to follow
No shrieks as they swoop down on prey
owl's eating demands business not play!
A beauty shines with feathers and eyes
smooth flight in dark forested skies
Owls are held to be old and very wise
to love and admire if one simply tries!
A treasure to love and attempt to protect
Tragic if we fail due to ignorance and neglect!
07/27/2014
Night Owl - Poetry Contest
Sponsor -Kelly Deschler
An Owls Night Out
Perched high in the trees, far from enemies,
Your head turns in rotation, of 270 degrees.
Your sensitive ears, hears the sounds of prey,
A family of rodents, from their den they stray.
In silent flight, you take to the nocturnal sky,
Lead instinctively by your senses, as you fly.
Astute and wide eyed, raised wings of pursuit,
Your decent begins, like a free falling parachute.
Late night meal rest securely, in your talons clutch,
Baby owlets awaiting food, and their mother's touch!
An Owls night out, a birds’ eye view of normalcy,
Aided by wisdom and integrity, through eyes of mystery!
Written: © 2/10/16
Submitted for: Owls Personification form - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Not a sound. Now hush .
Its the flap of a wing against a faded autumn leaf
the shaking of a tree branch as the snowy owl leaps .
And now a russell of fallen leaves mixed with a swish of dew covered grass
A mouse nervously looks for food knowing death is just a wings flap away.
The snowy Owls owlets wait eager for food and natures lifes cycle must be rode
The owl see's just the dropping of dew .
Swoops with talons bared and glint in its eye then disappeared into the night sky
and one single red droplet lands during the flight to indicate the mouses last fight.
The barn roof is broken the nest lays within
the noise level rises as the hooting begins
The owlets now feed and can go back to sleep
and the owl fly's away to do it again,
for a comp owls 11/02/16
When nightfall dips in palest of gold
I feel a sense of indignity,
As owl's melody loses its eloquence
Through the absence of a safe abode;
Where quietude calls for avian coos
The kind which never seeks to intrude…
And its orbed eyes larger than neons, freeze
In need of natue's hued, aerial parade---
Startled, bird's forest trail is washed out
By mourning dew of poison
Denying the barren woods of nourishment
while allowing thieves to skin owl feathers,
mangled talons like so, wasted ---
Wise keeper of secrets, hushing the noise.
Life marvels at your nocturnal guardianship
yet, this world shares not your moonlit toots
lithography of hills no longer owns
your delicate interludes of silence...
Man ravages bird navel, flesh , and plumes
For trading quests, for self- interest ---
Can this earthly slaughter cease
sucking nectar soil of birds dry?
Somehow, I still hail the dwindling number
of hooting owls
Which believes that the next generations
will wander on an environ,
Soaring their wings... joyously free at last.
*
In the silence of the morning
broken and disturbed
with birdsong hardly curbed
I walk sleepily to my back porch
coffee already in hand
to sit and listen to the woodland
When I’m startled by new sound
I hear close above my head
the distinct hiss-shwep being said
In unison, we both swivel our heads
I, to find a barn owl sitting
she to discover me silently emitting
and there in the branch ten feet higher
her mate tucks his round head
eyes staring at me like the ghostly dead
Barely moving with soft hissing breath
holding sway with great diligence
she looks about with quiet vigilance
Their hiss-shwep sounds are being sent
menacing to the little field mouse
owls hoping for breakfast in the house
Wings spread in silent swooping glide
quick to lower branch and tree
behold two more owls are perched to see
In dark foliage mottled feathers blend
hunters sitting quiet side by side,
the search now looks quite intensified
Then quiet as quiet as an owl can be
down one swoops to the grassy ground
and back to the tree in quick turn around
a fight erupts with all wanting a little bite
but he says no-no, this is my hunting treat
you have to get your own breakfast meat
*This is actually a Rhyming Tercet (terza rima is a form of a tercet)
~3 line form stanzas~
6-26-2020
STRAND COMPLETELY NEW POETRY
(1)any form any theme Poetry Contest
1st Place