Long Birds Poems
Long Birds Poems. Below are the most popular long Birds by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Birds poems by poem length and keyword.
As the cold spring rain drips from tiny spring green leaves, birds quietly hide
in nest and eaves. The roosters crow encouraging the sun to shine through the
clouds but the depths of the clouds' moisture and gloom reach to the earth's core.
The illusion of sunshine radiates from the Forsythia's brilliant yellow blossoms like
an impressionist's painting radiating through the fog. The windchimes are gently
stirred by the northeasterly cold damp breeze.
a bird warbles
love notes to his mate ...
no answer
A throaty cheer-up, cheer-up, cheer-up or maybe he was sent to entertain
just me..
As the pines drip with fog's waterdroplets and their flowers drip with pollen's stores.
The moisture helps keep it from being blown about to cling to all building, cars, and
shores..
a quietness coats
spring grasses...
crow's caw stirs silence
The time out on the porch enriches the day. Thank you Lord for a few minutes
to pray..
she comes to me this night through a wild thunder storm
a black cape covering her identity
for ours is a love forbidden and death will be our fate
my forest cabin is remote and sheltered by trees
and I whisper in the wind my love for her . . .
a bright fire burning is waiting to take her chill away
and my arms will still her trembling fear
then, suddenly she stands dripping in my door- beautiful
and her cape slips off her fragile and white shoulders
her wet tangled hair flowing to her waist- drips, drips
and tears in her eyes are falling
time stands still as I look at her with lust and need
love you- I moan as I take her in my arms
and my kisses fall on her lips, her throat and body
later, we lay entwined as one . . .
my need still pulsing in my veins and heart
oh, I know this love is wrong and will end in disaster
but it is worth the risk
yes, worth each moment with this forbidden beauty
and we fall asleep to the crackling fire
clinging together, clinging to our lust, desire and love
and I proclaim my everlasting love romantically to her
the morning comes with the sound of birds singing, tweeting
and we lay listening- holding each other in quietude
till my beauty mumbles that she must go- must go home
I feel the loss deep inside my soul
for I know not- if she will be able to return to me
or if this forbidden love can even endure time
or do I have to hold her kisses in my heart till forever . . .
_________________________
July 5, 2019
Poetry/Verse/wrapped in her love
Copyright Protected, ID 19- 1164-293-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
I count the birds at my feeder,
watch them arrive only to disappear,
they are a happenstance,
they flicker in and out, die and return.
People overhear other lives,
I imagine where they go and why?
The flush of a toilet brings visuals
as if every wall
were an opaque plasma screen.
People have died in the close,
dead neighbors,
three, four, six times removed.
The living wait for the mail,
stay to become known,
remodel a restless silence.
Some sit on porches smoking,
without seeing I see them
the way a mother duck
sees her brood behind her back.
I'm happy to be inside this close,
as if I were a life inside a life,
something born each day
to be close.
Dust gathers
on the sleeves of morning,
while sunlight hides
inside tired hands.
The city wakes slowly...
steel shutters,
factory smoke,
a kettle singing
in a worker's kitchen.
Someone walks toward another day,
carrying yesterday's exhaustion
like an invisible country
upon their back.
Yet dawn persists,
breaking through cracked pavements
and the stubborn courage
of ordinary people.
Flags rise like restless birds.
Voices gather
like rain before the storm.
Even silence
learns a different breath.
For every road,
every tower,
every window lit after dark
has passed through
the hands of someone unseen.
And somewhere
beneath the noise of the world,
a quiet truth endures:
No life is ever small.
Copyright@farukahmedroni
The changing climate changes things.
Each season has it's colors.
Exciting bright or pastel hues,
Give way to somewhat duller;
But each and every difference,
Has a beauty all it's own.
Each season has a magic,
That makes it stand alone.
The red, brown, golden leaves of Autumn,
It's gigantic Harvest Moon,
Give way to frost and snow flakes,
As Winter comes too soon.
The Fir trees dressed in crystal robes,
Sparkle, twinkle, shine.
A pristine blue-white blanket,
Coats the meadows, fences, Pines.
Then slowly Spring comes once again,
With bright and pastel hues.
The welcome greens and pinks spring forth,
And yellows, reds and blues.
Summer isn't far behind,
And another year has passed.
The birds and bees will greet in song,
The summer sun at last.
It's all so full of magic,
The beauty of it all.
Each awe inspiring creature.
Each season gives it's call.
Sun descends slowly to other side of mountains, I watch with wonder
Where sun goes, why other side doesn't have light I often wonder
Sun changes its colour from yellow to orange to bright red, I watch with wonder
Opposite happens in morning, what is the original colour of sun I often wonder
Sky changes its colour throughout the day, I watch with wonder
Red, orange blue white black grey... what is the original colour of sky I often wonder
Leaves change their shades throughout the day, I watch with wonder
What is the original colour of leaves I often wonder
One cannot see sun during day, how powerful is sunlight I wonder
But same sunlight can be blocked by clouds, how I often wonder
Every night different shape of moon I watch with wonder
What is the actual shape moon, I often wonder
Early morning five o click birds begin chirping, their melodious voice I hear with wonder
How birds and animals know the correct time without watch I often wonder
As I watch the beauty of nature, I am filled with wonder
How nature is ever-changing yet flawless in timings I often wonder.
Date: 10/17/2020
I look at the seasons and what do I see
But wonder and awe at Gods tapestry
The spring is so beautiful as it brings new life
Song birds are singing defusing my strife
The gardens are sprouting with wonderful care
Each one a mosaic with all of its wares
When summer rolls by now what do I see
But bikinis and girls that are so heavenly
There's hot rods galore with classics too
They rev and they roar looking so new
Now as fall settles in a season so fair
The leaves are a changing with a nip in the air
Now frost is a coming to put nature asleep
But the colors it gives is quite a treat
As winter arrives it blankets the ground
With a white soft coating that surely abounds
The animals are nestled each in their own beds
Dreaming of spring where they lay their heads
Another year over the seasons are fun
Next year will be new with that I am done
ANGEL DANCE
Alas, O those bronze golden trails. He never knew she would leave him, his ballerina. Those practices at dusk in the park at dusk. O how she would dance. Her floral dress witness as the squirrels chatter visit, birds chirp and flutter stars cries as the moon shines shutters. I embrace myself for she dances in the wind within the trees. While each branch and seems every leaf holds her tight. Tis, the dawning for now evening night. I long to waltz with her in the daylight. But now all I see this morning for I see been months now since she’s danced with the moon light and trees. For God has called her home, now I’m alone no longer can I rub her sweet-feet. No more can I await my time to cut in with the trees with the wind. I guess God needed a NEW dance partner. For He chose to call her home. Home to heaven on streets of gold I’m told on angel wings she flown. Now my love dances wit God and the Angels on heaven streets paved with GOLD.
my ballerina
dances on bronze golden trails
while the angels dance
8/30/19
For Angels Danced Poetry Contest
Haibun poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Lu Loo
As summer days were waning, warm and long,
I made new friends (I thought, but I thought wrong).
We drank the nights away with bloodshot eyes
When we were friends in drunken paradise.
They let me in their circle for a while,
Then shut me out, as if part of their guile.
They were my friends, but by my thoughts deceived,
Strong friendship out of drunkenness I believed.
One day I realized we were never close,
But I’d imagined it in my repose;
So no sooner said hello than said goodbye,
That summer ended. South, the birds would fly.
Once in a while we talk, but I don’t share
As much as they, for they don’t really care.
They want an intermediary now?
It is not me, I was the friend left out.
The millstone ground more slowly ev’ry day
As soon all of your friends did fall away.
You never thought that it would come to this,
The rumor mill shut down for lack of grist.
Eventually, I found my friends anew,
Those I know aren’t faking it. But you
Have lost yours in the dark and snowy nights,
Wond’ring which of them turned out the lights.
For me, this ends that story. All is well.
For you? That’s not for me to say, so tell
The stories of the warm and lasting nights
(And maybe then you’ll turn on all the lights),
When we were friends, in drunken paradise.
Birds stop singing
This summer spring morn
The Son of God
His head forlorn
No need to tremble
The gardens scene
With men and angels
For friends look mean
Come they say see
The simple man
Hands together
With touch the plan
No need to listen
The whispers cry
For will not wishes
To live To die
Yet sparrows simple
And lilies tilt
Upon a rock
The riches built
Then look no longer
His feet His Side
With all or nothing
And there abide
With near and closer
A vision see
The man the moment
Upon a tree
For with His wisdom
He bore and kept
The few the faithful
With crosses yet
April
2019