Best Roosting Poems
With the incoming sounds of spring, a resurrection of life,
the chilliness flees. Quote _ by Poet
Ready for a new season, Spring birds
Shake off winter; embracing
The bonniest warmness weather,
Babies born, and color of nature's crowns.
Scarlet Tanagers chatter, flying round,
Feasting on caterpillar’s slowness
And beetles boring away that are found;
whilst
Eternal sunlight reft through sturdy limbs
And myriad leaves of the mighty old oak;
Rapid rhythm clatter drum sounds
Of the Woodpecker on its breast shout.
A hum, a garden faintly woo a smile
At song sung by pretty red feather Robin dancing.
A sweet kiss, a seed, the male Cardinal
Feeds his blush pretty mate favor.
Yonder pond, tree boughs
Teasing the water's edge
Whilst
Little Mallard ducklings
Follow mamma to the bank.
Bluebird builds her nest
Right in the heart of the sprouting
Redbud flowering tree.
Camouflage in the red begonia
An orange breasted Oriole
With its sweet enchanting sound.
On the horizon the fire fades out,
Hush around in high perch, tiny roosting
Cold blue moon comes into sight.
2/26/2021
Poetry Contest: Spring Birds
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Categories:
roosting, bird, spring,
Form:
Free verse
When sleep deserted me
I crawled out of my bed unseen
To delve into the crevices of the dark
With the curiosity of an explorer
And the near comatose of a somnambulist
I walked up and down the steep slopes of the night
Like a night watchman
Without a lantern in hand.
When my legs grew weary
I sat on a rock
Covered with moss and lichen
Staring into the dark night sky
With no constellation of fireflies
Flashing their torches anywhere
Sitting there, in that bewitching night,
I listened to the song of night birds,
The rustle of leaves,
The howl of wolves,
And the night wind’s rave.
Looking into the dark pockets of the night,
I thought of human mind, a deep gorge
With many an uninhabitable corner
Where serpent desires lie coiled,
Scorpions crawl with toxic pincers
And predators roam to prey upon helpless victims.
The mystery of the night absorbed me,
Her muffled sounds, her dark beauty
And her elusive charm, like thick night fog,
Percolated deep into my consciousness,
And I floundered in a fathomless sea,
Swirling in her eddies and currents.
It whisked me away to lands far…far!
But on being washed ashore,
I was in a creative delirium.
I am now in No Man’s Land,
Where everything is in a coma of stillness,
Where no light glimmers,
No door ajar
And no one in sight!
Here the poet in me breaks open,
The somnambulistic comatose,
And down way flow my thoughts in indelible ink
Which only I can read.
Like a night bird,
Roosting among the branches of a tree,
I sing of my heart aches,
Of my yearnings and longings.
In the barely audible whispers of the night,
My song reverberates in the eyeless abyss down,
And in the dark desolate valleys below.
People say, ghosts walk the earth at night.
Oh! I am not scared!
I am not eager for the dawn to break,
Nor want to put my pen down!
Categories:
roosting, fantasy, night, poetess,
Form:
Free verse
Evergreen pines
Evergreen firs,
Yellow moon size star rays shining through,
Nighttime in the forest.
Red cardinals mutter, mourning doves coo
On branches in sleep
Roosting in their wait for the morrow
To forage.
Rustling mice on decaying leaves,
A roaming cat strangely at peace with the night,
Lets the critters sleep.
So curious is he.
Big footprints sound and scrape loud whispers,
The critters get restless and noisy,
Tell each other there’s a brand new day; a human on the way,
And chattering twitters turn into joyous prattle.
Then the crescent sun of the dawn
With its holy glory on the world awakes
Rise up. little children, it’s Christmas morn.
Rise up, little children, Jesus was born.
And Santa has come to celebrate.
Categories:
roosting, christmas, imagery,
Form:
Imagism
MAUNDY THURSDAY
The Upper Room was hushed that night,
As frightened friends supped their last as one.
Shoving back the morrow
When their leader would be gone.
This is my body—broken for you;
You are my beloved—take my blood, too.
Do this and as oft as you do it,
Do it in remembrance of me.
(A shipman shivered on a night-long watch
The night was warm, but he was not.
“There is a horror in the air breathed he.)
And for you I will go to the tree.
For you, I will give all of me.
(Outside somewhere across the world
A bird stopped singing, dropped its head,
And curled its wings under in a roosting pose.)
Did he know—did he really know
He would rise again and live
He has surely faithed it so!
And with body trembling but heart obedient.
He would go.
(And in the distance a cobbler nailing
Finished his last shoes for the day.)
My soul screams, He silent cries!
By what decree must it be
That I must lie upon a tree and nailed be,
Beaten by the throng—I have done no wrong!
Have You forsaken me—here in my Gethsemane?
(If you can listen, you can hear a
Mother’s lullaby song.)
Father, you chose me for this desperate task
That they may all know Love at last.
Thy will be done.
As We are One.
(The feverish earth turns, dances, sings, sails, nails,
Rocks without eyes – without ears – it spins on.)
Easter is not yet.
Categories:
roosting, death, easter, passion, ,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
birds interesting
a collection from nature-
all so beautiful
The Storm Petrel's are small birds that seem to hover,
little sea birds that appear to be walking on the water.
Loons unable to walk on land they shuffle like old people-
oh so graceful and skillful underwater can run across a lake . . .
Rails just love eating dense green vegetation,
Plover's like to run across a sandy beach hunting;
Roosting on a building is the beautiful Pigeon,
Oh so remarkable the Hoatzin is intriguing;
And electric blue Kingfishers are truly amazing.
___________________
October 31, 2015
Combination of - Haiku, Couplet, Free Verse, Quintain
For the contest, A Poets Dozen (12 lines)
Sponsor, Silent One
Third Place
Categories:
roosting, bird,
Form:
Verse
Morning ignites a murder of white crows.
roosting in the loft of spruce, maple and oak.
Preening moon and star from death's fertile dream.
Ribbons of sunlight wrapped tight, ancient scrolls.
Window ajar, enter angels donning broaches of mint.
Crows perched lightly upon honey kissed bed posts.
In each platinum beak, they carry one corner of my ghost,
lifted toward an ember of pulsating eternity,
garnished with pearly crown and secondhand wings.
Outside, the crows lined up along golden cobbled clouds.
Motionless, like a rosary of gleaming white stones.
Whispering, whirling secrets of galaxies and geodes.
Drifting about, chrysalis brained, rose petal hearted.
Leaving behind glittering pools of scented hieroglyphs
Orange robes enchanting the horizon with lavender mist.
Butterflies released from blue granite chrysalis.
Riding a stream of cherry sun beams and glitter.
The echoes of a rainbow are a grand place to live.
,
Categories:
roosting, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
MAUNDY THURSDAY
The Upper Room was hushed that night,
As frightened friends supped their last as one.
Shoving back the morrow
When their leader would be gone.
This is my body—broken for you;
You are my beloved—take my blood, too.
Do this and as oft as you do it,
Do it in remembrance of me.
(A shipman shivered on a night-long watch
The night was warm, but he was not.
“There is a horror in the air breathed he.)
And for you I will go to the tree.
For you, I will give all of me.
(Outside somewhere across the world
A bird stopped singing, dropped its head,
And curled its wings in a roosting pose.)
Did he know—did he really know
He would rise again and live
He has surely faithed it so!
And with body trembling but heart obedient.
He would go.
(And in the distance a cobbler nailing
Finished his last shoes for the day.)
My soul screams, He silent cries!
By what decree must it be
That I must lie upon a tree and nailed be,
Beaten by the throng—I have done no wrong!
Have You forsaken me—here in my Gethsemane?
(If you can listen, you can hear a
Mother’s lullaby song.)
Father, you chose me for this desperate task
That they may all know Love at last.
Thy will be done.
As We are One.
(The feverish earth turns, dances, sings, sails, nails,
Rocks without eyes – without ears – it spins on.)
Easter is not yet.
Categories:
roosting, faith, imagery,
Form:
Narrative
Bird of Prey
On Banyon Lake, where waterfowl dwell,
The night was tranquil and held no fear.
Until came a sound ascended from Hell.
I heard a menacing cry as I drew near.
Upon the shore no wave did break.
No whispers on the wind were heard.
Nor was there a splash on the lake.
From any waterfowl or roosting bird.
The anxious cooing of mated doves
Cried out a warning on this ominous night
They heard the screech from far above,
And trilled warning of a hungry bird in flight.
A mother swan, at the edge of the lake,
gathered her chicks beneath her wings.
It was a time to stay alert and awake.
In the face of danger, no bird dared sing.
The predator hovered high in the sky.
I saw her shadow blanket the moon.
With yet another shrill, piercing cry,
I heard the faint wail of a single loon.
There was movement among the reeds.
The hunter circled in search of her prey.
Her only focus was to fulfill her need
Before dark gave way to light of day.
Talons lowered, she opened her beak.
Again she screamed from great height.
Eyes focused on the fish she did seek.
Upon her wings, reflected moonlight.
Down she plunged with swiftest speed.
With keen senses she was able to snare
The prize that would sate her needs,
And enough to feed her fledgling pair.
With a flap of wings she rose in the sky.
A fish clutched in the grip of her claws.
All the birds were safe. I let out a sigh.
Fulfilled was Mother Nature's basic law.
A stilt legged egret came out of hiding.
Swans craned their necks in a swoon.
Doves continued their calls and chiding.
A nightingale whistled a joyous tune.
On Banyon Lake, where waterfowl dwell,
All was peaceful, serene, and still.
Upon the water, silver moonbeams fell.
The bird of prey had eaten her fill.
Categories:
roosting, bird, fear, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
A spent sun shimmies down a sanguine sky,
into the ebony blackness of space.
And birds roosting in trees no longer fly,
while a ghost moon rises to find its place;
smiling down on Earth with a friendly face.
Chameleon clouds, crimson, and cerise,
graze the horizon like woolly pink sheep.
And as ruby rays of sunlight decrease,
billions of stars awaken from their sleep;
while shape-shifting shadows stealthily creep.
Silhouettes merge, as dusk's darkness descends;
blurring the edges, where night's curtain drops.
And as the day's chatter silently ends
unveiled stars morph into backstage props:
and the show continues: it never stops.
A cricket's chirp announces the next act:
nocturnal players scurry to the stage.
And as moonbeams and fireflies interact,
owls and bats start flexing their wings backstage,
while the diurnal actors disengage.
Categories:
roosting, 12th grade, beautiful, feelings,
Form:
Quintain (English)
I'm sitting by the river in the centre of Inverness
In a place we call the islands, beauty in capture finesse
It's late into the evening as I listen to the cold grey flow
So soothing in this tranquil setting, inside I'm all aglow
I take this time to pause and close my eyes and listen
For in my mind I picture the full moons rivered glisten
This winter coat instrumental resonates with echoing sounds
Pipistrelle bats and Starlings flock, the latter in roosting surround
Whilst in the distance canines bark in a language we can't even comprehend
The picking up of natures delights, in unlimited voiced transcend
As I sit through these melodic notes I begin to realise
That I am here to hear these sounds and every ones a prize
I'm still sitting by the river in the centre of Inverness
If you ever desire to sit beside me, please do, you'll be my guest
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/inverness.php
Categories:
roosting, nature, placesriver,
Form:
Couplet
I stand at the top of my hill,
Spread my arms and fall and roll,
Over pavement, yellowing grass,
Into balls of trees of autumn.
Jasper, topaz, ruby, and orange true,
At last my windings end
At the edge of a creek reflecting these,
With ripples of gentle wind,
I pray as I see through trees to the sky,
An afternoon blue with little birds fluttering,
Fluttering to find what’s left for their tummies,
Before roosting in the first cool nights.
Welcome Fall, and please quickly pass,
Pass through red and green,
For I am one for warm days and then
The sparkle of tender spring.
Categories:
roosting, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
White is the landscape as far as I can see.
Ice is the brook that is in close proximity.
Nights are much longer than the days.
Toward the south is the bird that no longer stays.
Everyone is aware of the time of the season.
Roosting is indoors, and the cold is the reason.
Winter is here, whether you like it or not.
On it being cold until March, bet everything you’ve got.
Not much going on outside until the warmth arrives.
Dwelling near the heater is how we will live our lives.
Even the animals know better than to go out in the cold.
Running outside? You have to be very bold.
Lazy me. I will spend much of my time in bed.
All the cabin fever can easily mess up my head.
Nothing to do? Honey, I say we have it made.
Dear, get closer to me. I’m in the mood to get laid.
For Francine's Holiday Acrostic Challenge
Categories:
roosting, seasons, time,
Form:
Acrostic
Old Jake lived a mile or so below the falls.
He wasn’t a hermit, or any other sect or sort.
He was just an old man; though always alone.
Well, except for the critters.
They were not remarkable, just - - -many
and they all adored old Jake.
He didn’t even have to feed them.
Only gave them what they needed most---love.
Oh, the whole crowd needed companionship!
Or, so it seemed.
That one small cabin?
A six hundred pound bear is a bit much!!
least in my humble opinion.
Then consider the raccoon !
The sucker fusses and complains
all day, all night twenty four-seven.
The covey of pigeons were good about cooing him to sleep
but ‘twearnt worth NO dad gum roosting on the porch rail !!!!!!
Geez!! The hose is not long enough
to drag around to the front steps;
much less scour that whole rail “on and under it”,
the whole width of the house--every day!
That fox!! Slick as a whistle and he will lie
in a skinny minute--
And we have yet to find any sign
of the gone gosling !
Who else would do such a thing?
I know every family has problems, but most can
be fixed with a little think through:
common sense and resolve.
Let’s all work on it----who knows?
One might find, that the powers which be, can take a hint from
the common man for a change.
‘stead of vice versa.
Categories:
roosting, parody,
Form:
Prose
Mused the owl roosting on a pine tree shoot,
"My colleagues think I'm not very astute,
But I wisely perch in pines,
Not on hot transmission lines!
If they singe their butts I don't give a hoot!"
Categories:
roosting, bird, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
"Turkey Fowl"
1776: The Eagle, The Dove, or the Turkey?
Great Seal of the United States
What should we choose for a symbol of our new life?
American birth of a nation
Declaration Committee chosen
Midwife of an egg Eagle, Dove, or Turkey
Dr. Benjamin Franklin
Plea a turkey
Truly a noble bird that’s free
Native American sees
A source of sustenance
Incredibly brave fellow
Single-handedly
Who wouldn't flinch in an attacking regiment of Englishmen
Foraging in clearings, field, forest, with nut bearing trees
Listen to the exuberant gobbling males carry
On the ground,
But at the night flying high
Roosting on treetops at the end of the day
Therefore, the national bird of America should be the Turkey
11/5/2015
1776: The Eagle, The Dove, or the Turkey?Choosing between the eagle, the dove, or the turkey for America's national bird. This is one of the final scenes in the musical 1776. Thomas Jefferson (dove), Ben Franklin (turkey) and John Adams (eagle) are waiting for Congress to ratify the Declaration of Independence. They start to discuss which bird would be the best national bird. Now I want to hear YOUR two cents. Which of the three would you choose and why? I'm leaving this wide open---be funny, be serious, be of two minds---whatever occurs to you, it just has to be one of those three.............
Categories:
roosting, bird,
Form:
Free verse