Best Perch Poems
hummingbirds air float
helicopters learned hover ...
wee ones rose man's perch
Two parakeets, perched on a tree,
Their vibrant feathers dance free.
With beaks chirping, they seem to be
Engrossed in a conversation, just as you foresee
Intrigued, I pause and retry
to decipher their words in the sky.
Their melodious chatter is a symphony,
Whispered secrets of nature's decree.
On those branches, they sit so close.
Their bond is such a blossoming rose.
Their feathers shimmer with a colorful glow.
As they share stories only they know.
I wonder, what topics do they discuss?
Do they talk of love or planets they've crossed?
Perhaps they share tales of faraway lands.
Or debate the mysteries of life's demands.
Maybe they ponder the meaning of dreams.
Or discuss the moon and its silvery beams.
They could be planning their next grand flight.
Or discussing the stars that shine so bright.
They could be talking of the changing seasons,
Or sharing wisdom beyond human reasons.
Their words are a secret, known only to them.
A language of friendship is an exclusive gem.
As I listen, their voices intertwine.
Creating a melody that's truly divine
Their vibrant vitality fills the air.
A harmony only they can share.
Their conversation, a dance of words,
A symphony that's never been heard.
They perch on the tree, edge by side.
Their bond is impossible to hide.
Their vibrant feathers are a sight to behold.
A kaleidoscope of colors, stories untold
I watch, mesmerized by their graceful display.
Enchanted by the words they convey.
Their chattering beaks, a rhythmic beat,
Such a poetic song, so sweet.
1st place contest winner
A Poem for the Grey Shrike written on Earth Day 2016
At sunrise while asleep
I was called by a bird tweet
Like a childhood song
So sharp so sweet
Awoke. Washed. Dressed . Prepared to greet
But the voice got swallowed by the noise of the street
Oh son: let's go . This trip will go down a treat
Entered a beach garden. Green. Simple n Neat
The Mown grass was wet. And the son waded the feet
Despite the moist. Despite the light. Despite the heat
Scanned the shrubs & trees. Then heard the beat
Like a childhood song. So sharp so sweet
Sped and goggled. To see. To snap. To greet n meet
A silvery spot. Perching. Scanning. Landing to eat
A worm, an insect, a snake, a mouse or a piece of meat
It was a grey shrike. Mature. Strong. Hard to beat
Despite the moist. Despite the light. Despite the heat
Came to see. To hear the voice. So sharp so sweet
seeing above all
daddy's shoulders sitting tall
a safe perch so high
reaching up to touch the sky
loving bond just he and i...
Man in the moon is
Fishing for seasonal fish
From the harvest perch
(My grandson who lives with me said that he saw a man fish in Raul's "Reflections" picture.)
In the near future, I am going to add it all up into one big sum.
In the meantime, I am going to gather and collect my own space.
I will sift through seeds or weeds and present an enormous case.
But for sure I will hold onto every single yellow chrysanthemum.
In the near future, I am going to roll it all up sealing it by my thumb.
In the meantime, I am going to sit here with every turned about face.
I will drift through time rewinding the hands back to a God of Grace.
But for sure I will give the world a place my heart is triumphing from.
Quickly, I will come to you,
And instantly I will be gone.
But injustice shall never do.
Nor shall a lie be my spawn.
Or at the least not on my expedient silver polished dime,
And certainly not while sitting on destiny’s perch in time!
® Registered: Ann Rich 2009
I found a perch this morning
Capsized and defeated by the early spring
Washed into a silty little corner, waiting to become still
The miniature heart, it beat so fast, it tried very hard
Fiercely and with fire it tried, in its very unimportant way
It pulsed a few more times, in vain, then the blood began to cool
Beneath the filigree of grey scales, tarnished with muted gold
Painted over with strong looking black lines, like racing stripes
I stirred then, upon reflex, as it was clear that the life had ebbed away
Quiet within a hush, how small it became, I thought
Some lost minutes held me there in a brief reverie
Myself only a distortion in the glassy button eye
Then the moment was gone and I heard the waves again
My body towered above the scene once more, sun weary and sleepy
I gave a parting breath and turned without another glance
With only a few steps I had forgotten everything
Nothing-thoughts took up the space
I turned and headed back up the path that led me home
That chilly night in Bucharest
As I lay down in my bed to rest
Torrents of thoughts assailed me
Avalanche of questions tore my heart apart
As I reminisced over the events of previous days
I felt the world moving in collective dementia
As disasters and heinous crimes of every shade
Broke minutely to confound the troubled world
Scores of souls roasted in the belly of Ethiopian whale
Worshipers pulverized on the altar of extremism in New Zealand
Furious flash floods kill and displace in Indonesia Papua
Cyclone Idai hitting hard in Zimbabwe and Mozambique
Man is endangered in his natural domain
By his daily contrivances for gain
His garden must be cultivated with better care
To produce trees where every bird can perch freely.
Upon her perch
she gazes down
sights
no
soul
to search.
Copyright McCuen 2009
It isn't long before I begin to realize
how even from the beginning
the eyes seek out distances,
the weightlessness within the stride,
the satellite built in memory
that almost leaves me to part from these feet;
when bones begin to splinter,
click and creak inside of me
from ankle to wrist--
hip sliding out of place--
like a tired pedestal,
veins snapped from their straight posture,
as the surge inside me slows.
The ceremonies are always the heaviest,
people gathered, hand-linked
just long enough to know
that cells have shut down,
a liver drowns,
and the heart is a temeramental organ;
death becomes an affair of the flesh
as I leave an oxidated streak in time,
a frenetic unseen,
pieces of me
fallen to the ground--
hair, flesh, bone.
Greeting the day's offerings, we cat souls
Were watching for scampering voles and moles.
Five vigilant cousins and I, perched up high,
watching the sun rise in the eastern sky.
From our perch in the gnarly gumdrop tree,
We surveyed the meadow, calm as we could be.
The grays and tans of a gentle morn,
Brought forth tasty mice, who were soon forlorn.
September day, offers so much lively meat on the ground.
We sneaked up stealthily, me and my brigade, profound.
We pounced, and the critters were goners for sure.
Their meat tasty, and fresh, and decidedly pure.
Our daily hunt, is so much fun, in this tree.
My cousins, my brother, my dad, and me.
We all do this, every single morn.
Making the little creatures feel forlorn.
Lofty Living
Let me take a moment of silence to listen to the noise that life decided to make_
Hear all the burps, the crashes, the hums of sounds it chose to stir me before I wake.
Inhaling a hefty dose of fresh air to withhold before the next one urged to take.
Behold the sunbeams beck to call upon me to play within its streams_
Yet the time for such a thing is found only in my dreams.
To gain a chance or gander is by sheer force it most certainly seems.
I raise my face high alerting to all above the sky’s_
Smile a greeting er’ flock of birds in union swirling by.
They sing to me a welcome_ fellow beholder of the eye!
For they can see such wonders not freely given to you nor me.
From a window perched and primed_ I enjoy this simple ease {esse} of mine.
It may not be the life I’d hoped of_ but 'tis I who's signed on the dotted line _
And at this moment in time, I am doing yay fine.
***092020***
The fillet was supposed to be boneless but wasn't.
It caught me off guard, midmeal.
Between bites of slaw and baked potato.
The bone wedged in the top of my whiskered throat.
The palest form of panic set in.
I swallowed hard a few times.
Swigged a root beer.
Everyone's eyes grew wide as I grew dark red.
It finally dislodged on its own merits.
Thank God perch bones are thin.
At times, death arrives out of nowhere.
Sometimes in the form of a freight train.
A bolt of lightning or a yellow perch bone.
Mr. Giraffe was as docile as a tall creature can be.
He hid among the leaves of a Cottonwood tree.
The birds discovered him and said “whee whee whee!”
He is our newest perch. They were happy as could be!
eagles perch on leafy tree limb
overlooking territory below
guardians of the asphalt jungle and dumpster