One type of bird that frequents our home in the mountains
one of the many we look forward to
are the birds that make their home in boxes we’ve provided
they’re tiny birds but distinctive…because their backs are painted blue.
Since bluebirds cannot dig holes in which to build their homes
to keep them free from predators and pests
they rely on woodpecker holes…or home-made bluebird boxes
in which to build their nests.
It is a wonderful relationship…we provide them free housing…
where they can raise a brood…or two
and every now and then they allow us to see
the beauty of their blue.
Not only are these little birds a beautiful sight to see
they help control the insect population…
and entertain us with their soft and gentle melody.
In some small way we feel a part of nature…
providing a home for bluebirds to give birth…
a safe place to stay for a while
while they add their beauty to the Earth.
When nesting season is over…we clean their home
trying to be the best hosts we can be…
so it will be ready when they return next summer…
and create their family…rent free.
The icy brush of Winters breath has come rushing to my doorstep
I must settle into the ache in my bones
This cold and stiffness confines me
I can find solace inside myself where I sit in front of my window
My coffee, my books, my twinkling lights
Even though Beira keeps her promises and gifts me with her loneliness
I smile
The bluebirds have returned
A bluebird comes flying by,
Its cry fills the sky.
A high pitch lullaby,
Playing in its prize.
Not held within lies,
Watching as time flies.
Not caring if it dies,
Fear left it's eyes.
Just as it is,
It tries.
Nature always supplies
It doesn't wear a disguise,
Or worry of its demise,
Until one day,
SURPRISE!!
Awaken,
Arise,
Claim the true prize.
Re energize,
See your true size,
And realize,
You're eternal and free.
In charge of your own Galaxy.
Embrace your creativity,
Come take this trip with me.
Soon you'll see,
Loving unconditionally,
Connecting Universally,
Allows us to be,
Floating freely,
Through possibility.
Limitlessly,
Affecting reality,
Positively,
Bringing us in to unity.
The way it used to be,
Free from our disguise,
And together we watch,
As the bluebird flies,
Enjoying our prize.
Quote: Some believe bluebirds are a symbol of joy and hope or good news arriving soon. Others think of them as a connection between the living and deceased.
Before your eyes on a warm day of spring you see the first sunrise
and then you see a little fellow in the skies,
a tiny specimen braving a morning song just before your eyes
Atop a tree he flies only to sit on a cup shaped woven nest
she shouts for joy to her little ones
there are 6 nestling bluebirds with no downy feathers on their chest
Tiny peep peep peeps come out of their loosely weaved hotbed
mama feeds them with her eager beak
while daddy goes Tu-a-wee, Tu-a-wee, then waits until their fed
Three weeks old and ready to fly they flap incessantly
until they learn to fly
aiming for a clear blue the sky they soar towards eternity
Six baby bluebirds finally, ... on their way.
Before the war
bluebirds were just blue birds.
We danced the fright away,
with crazy made-up steps,
some thought us reckless
but the moon was in our eyes.
Bombs arrived.
CNN played the death count down,
until it too was obliterated.
Scorched bodies
tumbled listlessly,
down deserted streets.
Many took to the sewage systems.
Down there in the stinking dark,
the rats were dancing,
with an insane
and tortured frenzy,
as if
angry bluebirds
pecked
at their maddened eyes.
In 2023, my energy started to wane fast
Putting up peas, butterbeans and peppers for a long winter
In 2024, the bluebirds came back, giving me hope
Seeing a bluebird or bluebirds has meaning, you can look it up.
Soaring bluebirds over a cloud
control over the vastness of the sky
Soaring joyfully and feeling proud
Sensing the breeze as they fly.
High under the canopy, out of sight.
Mother birds meet their babies in the nest.
They grasp the broad horizon light.
The tired planet badly needs rest.
Written: May 27, 2023
What are you doing? I asked the little girl of three.
I am colorizing the flowers, she promptly told me.
And staying in the lines I said, immediately amazed!
Watching her paint posies yellow where cows grazed.
You can paint the red ones, she said, knowing me.
I was as tickled and thrilled as any grandma could be.
I sat right down and picked up a paint brush too.
But I wanted a different color, so I chose blue.
Those are for the birds! My granddaughter said.
Blue flowers are rare, because she has an artistic head.
I begged her, just for today can we have just a few ….
Flowers in the meadow that are a brilliant blue?
Small-sized beautiful birds,
Hunting for their meals,
Children love them,
They are adorable birds,
I have a home for them,
It’s a delight to watch them preen and bathe,
They're harbingers of good fortune,
They add colours to my day,
I eagerly await their arrival after winter,
They're my little friends,
My inspiration.
June 24, 2022
Zippity-doo-dah, Zippity-ay
My, oh my, it's a dismal day
My song has been canceled
Bluebirds in dismay
Zippity-doo-dah ~
Disney took me away
Rough rains
bounce off
the hardened
ground.
Beyond bare
trees-
empty
of leaves,
no bluebirds
can be found
...the birds having nothing on you
each tasty morsel drips
deflowered
pleasingly scoured then devoured
divine
your lips to mine
feelings so fine
I find
kindness caressed in kiss
late night hours dismissed
arousals arriving and thriving
inside it resides
touches pulsing with time
symphonics conduct
and seduct in interlude
but never concludes
stillness in tune
morning whispers
a rising sun smiles
and listens
as the bluebirds whistle
Bluebirds sing on an autumn day.
Time for me to run and play.
You are a vision, a ghost in the fields.
You stand my kind protector, with shields.
I hide in the grass that brings safety and peace.
Pretend to run away while the winds increase.
As it moves across wisps of golden meadow I stare
As the sun shined on apples, you were there.
A comforting touch, through torment I ran from.
I would meet you anywhere to feel the love, some.
I dreamt of you in the darkest of night.
As you rescued me from danger and fright.
At school, I drew pictures of you in my mind.
Hoping you would greet me and be forever kind.
Whenever I heard music, I wished you were singing.
But they were wordless songs that kept on stinging.
I fought in childhood to make all this be you.
I encountered endless battles facing it isn’t true.
Here I stand grown and sometimes very fearful.
Faced with new beginnings I can still be tearful.
Now, when Bluebirds sing and I run outside to play.
I let go of the visions that I held in yesterdays.
For those were only images of a mother never to be.
I am now that to myself, time has passed, ever so free.
Written: 1994
Heidi Sands
Oh my heart, my heart, my heart I hold in my hand,
And I bring it to you, my love, on this rainy day I come;
Where the wind takes my hair and I walk among the rows,
The quiet rows of headstones.
Our destiny was decided above,
There was no time for us written.
Our love but a moment in time and then our dreams died.
We thought we had forever,
Tears is all I have to give you;
And my heart, my heart is yours.
And if I fall along the way in this life, will you take my hand?
Will you carry me along?
I know you dwell above,
Where the bluebirds sing.
And if I fall along the way will you take my hand and carry me?
We thought we had forever. . .
Oh, why does love have to die!
_________________________
June 16, 2015
Verse unrhymed
Submitted in the contest, Any Old Poem #10, sponsor, Skat
Fifth Place
lavender blossoms
surround a pair of bluebirds
wispy clouds float by
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