Best Passerine Poems
An early outing for my friend and I
We walked the winding path down to the springs
The uncut winter hay is now waist high
And in the morning breeze it softly sings
Red Indian paintbrushes are in bloom
As are the downy phlox and dogwood trees
How sweet the smell of birth in nature's womb
Attracting butterflies and honey bees
The passerine song birds are in full throat
While woodpeckers and sap suckers keep time
Mid air, white cotton hayseeds gently float
So gracefully they dance their pantomime
And in that moment, in the tarnished hay
The gurgling springs still hidden from my view
With nature's springtime beauty on display
I heard her say a peaceful. "I love you"
by Daniel Turner
Categories:
passerine, beauty, i love you,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
Aloft, with keen eyes in sorbet skies’ raspberry half-light
visceral vibrations of vitality does await.
Soaring in a hush, with plumage plush, a silent stealth kite,
he glissades on ghostly winds with mystical wings of fate.
Poised to plummet from his summit of purple sundown spread
with wingspan wide, wreathed gradual glide, hunts a twilight hawk.
Floating form causes flocks to brainstorm on life or death dread,
those flying forlorn, late to roost, are reduced by his stalk.
Aerodynamic, his dramatic dive deals destiny,
raptor raptly pursues passerine through air’s plum-bruised dim.
Whispering wings whisk to live and not die desperately,
over the arborvitaes the future for one is grim.
If it’s true that energy never dies; its cries transform,
then songbird's notes will ascend on hunter's wings in reform.
Susan Ashley
December 3, 2017
~ First Place ~
Contest: Your Best Poem In The Last Year
Sponsor: Silent One
~ Seventh Place ~
Contest: Best Rhyming Poem October - December 2017
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Categories:
passerine, bird, conflict, death, destiny,
Form:
Rhyme
Have you ever, wandered into, a sequestered meadow
Surrounded by trees and mountains
Where the passerine song birds, sang songs with no words
Indian paintbrushes, rose up, like red fountains
The orange day lilies, and butterfly weeds
Danced, with the light purple asters
Bold black eyed susans and multicolored lupines
Provided scenes, like paintings, of old masters
Did you feel the cool breeze, that tickled the leaves
Of the poplars, birches and oaks
Put off by the snow caps, as they melt and collapse
Then ski down the shadowy slopes
Or happen to look, when the clear snow melt brook
Rushed by, to the lake of, serenity
Did you feel the love, of Mother Nature's hug
And the awesomeness of it's, sublimity
To put words to a feeling, when the senses are reeling
Can be a difficult thing
Meadows sleeping with mountains, flowery red fountains
With a breeze of tranquility
That's how I felt, when ice started to melt
Encasing my frozen heart
I'll never forget, when our paths first met
And you gave, my life, a jump start
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Categories:
passerine, beauty, emotions, feelings, imagery,
Form:
Rhyme
In the southern parts of Africa
You can hear me singing my song
A member of the finch family
Maybe the smallest one
I’m a small passerine bird
Such a tiny, tiny, thing
Like the colour of the sun
Bright shining from my wings
I’m a vibrant yellow soul
With an attractive mellow hue
I’m a border fancy singing
Whistling these songs to you
We are the songbirds of America
Hey’ the special roller tours
The beautiful American songsters
The ones you cannot ignore
I’m a small passerine bird
Such a tiny, tiny, thing
Like the colour of the grass
Bright shining from my wings
I’m a vibrant green soul
With plenty of attitude
I have a wide range of songs
Let me sing you the blues
Were a colourful chorus of birds
Competing in the shows to sing
But not during the molting period
In the summer just after the spring
Were the birds of Canary Islands
But took refuge on Spanish sails
The most famous finch in history
Singing beautiful as nightingales
I’m a small passerine bird
Such a tiny, tiny, thing
Like the colour of a rose
Bright shining from my wings
I’m a vibrant redish soul
A brilliant little actor
Hear me bellow out
Have I got the Xfactor
We are popular cage birds
On both sides of the Atlantic
The hen she’s kind of cute
But the cock, now he’s romantic
© Copyright KC.Leake
27th November 2014
All Rights Reserved
Categories:
passerine, beautiful, romantic, seasons, ,
Form:
Rhyme
a lark song tickles
notes of robins and wrens pique~
the starling teasing
2/23/2021
For Spring Birds Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Categories:
passerine, bird,
Form:
Haiku
Swallows and Martins,
Passerine birds so graceful;
Aerial by wing.
Categories:
passerine, animals, nature
Form:
Haiku
Words To A Wren
They have not taken thee, thou art too small
To tinge their fancy with a moment's flush;
Thy safely lieth in a ruined wall,
Thy plainsong blendeth with loud water's rush.
In dusky shade thy duskier shadow flits
Beside the pathway; friendly in thy flight;
No wrath of Heaven scares thee from thy wits,-
Thou art a brave and homely little wight.
What man can tell the meaning of the tongue
Thy presence in our memory uttereth?
What say you the thoughts of thee that wind among
Our travels on the ways of life and death?
If our hearts knew that secret we should be
Lords of the legend of our destiny.
Robert J. Lindley
presented , 3-10-2016
Note:
1. Wren- The wrens are mostly small, brownish passerine birds in the mainly New World family Troglodytidae. About 80 species of true wrens in roughly 20 genera are described. Only the Eurasian wren occurs in the Old World, where in Anglophone regions, it is commonly known simply as the "wren", as it is the originator of the name. The name wren has been applied to other, unrelated birds, particularly the New Zealand wrens (Acanthisittidae) and the Australian wrens (Maluridae).
Most wrens are small and rather inconspicuous, except for their loud and often complex songs. Notable exceptions are the relatively large members of the genus Campylorhynchus, which can be quite bold in their behavior. Wrens have short wings that are barred in most species, and they often hold their tails upright. As far as known, wrens are primarily insectivorous, eating insects, spiders, and other small arthropods, but many species also eat vegetable matter and some take small frogs and lizards.[1]
Categories:
passerine, beautiful, bird, blessing, flying,
Form:
Classicism
Blistering and scorching sands
Land of the hushed and crushed hands
Up the creepy furs clasping 'round
Ebbing scraped sand of ants' mound
Mortars of the deep and steamy skies
O'er peals and dreamy flies
Off the reef passerine of stormy glides entreat
New leaf flit, strength above my feet...
Sunsets tweak, marvels at its peak
Categories:
passerine, hope,
Form:
Imagism
Cousins in flight
The skies their place
Black and grey plumage
With a different face
This genus Corvus
The colour of night
Passerine order
A wonderful sight
A pest to many
Nuisance to lambs
Natural progression
In natures plans
As we roamed the lands
Viewed these birds
Helped their demise
Incredibly absurd
Colonisation has rid
These important birds
From the following islands
The sadness incurred
New Zealand, Hawaii
And Greenland too
They are called a murder
Does that remind you!
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature4.php
Categories:
passerine, animals, loss, nature
Form:
Rhyme
Passerine in black
Jousting for mid air order
Murder in the skies
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-8.php
Categories:
passerine, animals, nature
Form:
Haiku
Poetic Verses, Words Composed, To A Wren
They have not taken thee, thou art too small
To tinge their fancy with a moment's flush;
Thy safely lieth in a ruined wall,
Thy plainsong blendeth with loud water's rush.
In dusky shade thy duskier shadow flits
Beside the pathway; friendly in thy flight;
No wrath of Heaven scares thee from thy wits,-
Thou art a brave and homely little wight.
What man can tell the meaning of the tongue
Thy presence in our memory uttereth?
What say you the thoughts of thee that wind among
Our travels on the ways of life and death?
If our hearts knew that secret, we should be
Lords of the Legend of our Destiny.
Robert J. Lindley,
Edited/Updated, 4-05-2019
Note:
1. Wren- The wrens are mostly small, brownish passerine birds in the mainly New World family Troglodytidae. About 80 species of true wrens in roughly 20 genera are described. Only the Eurasian wren occurs in the Old World, where in Anglophone regions, it is commonly known simply as the "wren", as it is the originator of the name. The name wren has been applied to other, unrelated birds, particularly the New Zealand wrens (Acanthisittidae) and the Australian wrens (Maluridae).
Most wrens are small and rather inconspicuous, except for their loud and often complex songs. Notable exceptions are the relatively large members of the genus Campylorhynchus, which can be quite bold in their behavior. Wrens have short wings that are barred in most species, and they often hold their tails upright. As far as known, wrens are primarily insectivorous, eating insects, spiders, and other small arthropods, but many species also eat vegetable matter and some take small frogs and lizards.[1]
Categories:
passerine, art, bird, creation, endurance,
Form:
Classicism
Sumptuous feasts enchanted float on by,
as I peer into an opulent expanse,
garnet clad entrance aglow,
imagine august beauty at its mise en scène peak,
ingress to celestial nirvana’s Laurel-ridden charm,
iridescent veil of cirrus nebula,
window blind ephemeral in situ,
rapid inkling’s meteoric shower,
harvest for the milk and honey bard,
goes beyond elysium horizons,
flight of fancy totem, utter breathless oath,
unearthly surreal lustrous cache,
burst of universal zenith trumpeting,
exalted plot as moonbeam step stair,
just imagine for a spell psalmodic Meccas,
to a hue-laden whirlpool vortex,
that sequesters sun-drenched harbours,
gurgling stream meanders, moss-fleck tides,
mesmerizing shroud of lambent bayou,
hazy plume on silver waterfall,
scarab mountain chain at sapphire dawn,
whose jewel-rich seams glisten enigmatically,
indigo blue species, bold passerine upsweep,
wayfarer halcyon Xanadu bound,
urban forest blackcap’s luscious throb,
snowbird glee club ear chant for
sprightly day-peep first rank,
amber leaf cascade a sequined duvet on barren playground,
rainbow eucalyptus but a foil for sylvan zephyr,
crystal ball elixir knows no quench or glut,
imagine life eternal in my wonder world cocoon
Date written and posted ; Second of March 2023
Contest ; Writing Challenge - I Words - ‘ Poetry Contest
Sponsor ; Constance La France
Categories:
passerine, appreciation, august, beautiful, beauty,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Am I god's breath
Dawn's first breath caresses dew-wet glade,
yellow catkins quiver in spring's tender breeze,
eastern sunrise fuels passerine serenade.
Sulphur-yellow butterflies, black and golden bees
time for birth, new life, our earthly sphere decrees
of Erebus and Nyx
Impish flames dance in noontime light
morph to ghastly pirouetting demons leaping
everywhere, undisciplined they grave alight
red-hot searing daggers all-consuming.
Summer's purifying salamander breathing.
or earthly shibboleth?
Jewel blue; no longer skipping over rocks
the river, now near the end, is older, wiser,
gently drifting west towards the busy docks.
Autumn leaves of gold, like gentle boats, stir,
floating towards sunset's end of chapter.
Caught between the twixt;
The winter forest seems to our eyes dead.
Midnights new moon; the mother of the sky
mystic dewgleam-silver lights the seedbed
of decomposing earth, where fresh shoots testify
new life once more this land will occupy.
I'm Aether, or maybe six sixty-six.
Categories:
passerine, meaningful, nature, spring, sunset,
Form:
Quintain (English)
Fragments of first spring sun illuminate
A blithe wave of fluttering pinnate leaves.
Passerine dulcet birds cradled they wait
Ethereal rain under narrow eaves.
Honeysuckle comes alive drawing straight.
Daisies bright, butterflies by the wheat sheaves.
Around garden's heart breathing once anew
A spider's web in tears form morning dew.
2/2082021
Spring Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Categories:
passerine, bird, spring,
Form:
Ottava rima
When I was a young boy
I used to watch with awe
The common house sparrows
busy building nest out of
twigs,straw and dry leaves
in the crevices of the tiled roof
in my old ancestral house.
The ever chirping sparrows
never stayed at one place,
But kept moving swiftly,
now in the backyard of the house
Where there was a garden,
And 'd collect tiny worms
Insects,, seeds or grains;
And keep them carefully in their mouth
And fly from thence to their nests,
Where they 'd feed their chicks
Waiting anxiously to be fed;
I remember all these vividly
Even today ,to tell my grandchildren .
What happened to these birds,grandpa?
My grandsons asked ;I told them
The tiny birds were driven out
By radiation emitted by micro-wave towers;
And further by paucity of their food
The worms and insects which
No longer are there in the modern
Landscaped gardens fed with insecticides;
And where will they go to build nests
As modern buildings are bereft of
attics, crevices and spaces.
So my kids,make cardboard nests
Keep them in vantage points with
seeds and grains inside to lure
these lovely little passerine, the sparrows
To our neighborhood once again,
Long live the house sparrows.
Categories:
passerine, bird,
Form:
Free verse