Long Cheeping Poems
Long Cheeping Poems. Below are the most popular long Cheeping by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cheeping poems by poem length and keyword.
It is 7:41 p.m.
we are in the middle of the forest
in a meadow, in the country, in Kansas
unnamed insects are cheeping and buzzing
my sixty-two-foot oak is singing with sounds
a half-moon is barely visible
the sky is light, not blue, not gray
my dog nuzzles my hand
he’s a baby, needing attention
fancies that I am his mama
my older dog waits for the puppy’s cue
dog next door is still making noise
in unison they begin their neighborly barking responses
I wait for nine thousand insects to descend on my head
thinking crickets, mosquitos, ticks and locusts
the cheeping and buzzing is louder now.
Taking a stroll through the undergrowth
Back to where you and me pledged our troth
To love each other, come rain or snow
In the forest that we both love so.
It's glorious this time of the year
When the wild flowers start to appear
And trees are proudly sprouting fresh leaves
In a dainty dance upon the breeze.
We hold hands as the undergrowth’s rough
Which causes walking to become tough
Not that we need to have an excuse
When we’re free to be out on the loose.
Upon the trees birds chirp cheerfully
Cheeping in avian harmony
Squirrels foraging undergrowth store
Nuts they have buried on days before.
We spot young bunnies taking first hops
The farmers who're preparing their crops
In the distant not too faraway
Working happily throughout their day.
So pleased that we came upon this place
To delight in nature's wondrous grace
Appreciating scenes such as this
That we were all given as a gift.
Spring is just around the corner
‘tis my favourite time of year
delighting in the knowledge that
Spring is close
Spring is near
Sounds of twittering ~ chirping ~ cheeping
are sounds I love to hear
for spring is truly in the air and birds are everywhere
I am woken before dawn by herring gulls squawking
they are roosting very close ~ to each other they are talking
Then crows I hear their caw caw cawing
for me a special treat
each day a crow caws out ‘Hello’
then caws to me ‘Good morning’
The sweetest sound of all is when I hear a blackbird call
for his repertoire is endless
each morning he’s performing
his romantic love filled aria
especially for me as I sip my morning tea
I love the sounds of sparrows so many gathered in a tree
just like the largest choir ~ they sing in total harmony
Such joy to hear a song thrush as he perches high above
warbling for his mate ~ serenading her with love
~~~~
New life beginning
New shoots are springing
With all her birds singing
Mother Nature at her best
All dressed to impress
Written 21st February 2021 ~ a very Spring like day…
Contest Spring Birds Poetry
Sponsor Constance la France
FIRST PLACE
Contest ALL YOURS (Feb 28)
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
I watched in awe the laboring tenants of the birdhouse I'd made,
And for their family devotion, they (and I) have been amply repaid!
Mr. and Mrs. Wren became the proud parents of a couple of eggs,
And unto them were born two chicks with big mouths and wobbly legs!
The pair began building their cozy abode along about the first of May.
I watched from my patio as they stashed bits of grasses, feathers and hay!
They'd rest now and then 'tweeting' each other on the porch of their dwelling,
And not unlike we uncouth mortals, I sensed a bit of familial yelling!
Bye and bye, my ears heard two little birdies faintly a-cheeping,
And from the entryway I saw two little bobble heads shyly peeping!
Their wide-open mouths kept Mr. and Mrs Wren flying to and fro,
To fill cavernous craws with who knows what to help them to grow!
Then one bright morn I was privileged to see a wonder of God's Creation!
One little fellow emerged from the nest and paused with some hesitation.
Then, into the rising sun it flew from its perch - what a beautiful sight!
My soul was filled with elation - I had just witnessed the miracle of flight!
Entry for Soup's International Contest - December 2011
When eight years old we went to Africa
we spent a couple of weeks in Dar-es salaam
then we moved to Dodoma for two years
It was a magical place for me and my sister
we were right on the edge of this small town.
There were leopards living under two miles away
nightly our bins were raided by these big cats.
We did not often go out after dark for fear of them
in daylight it was a different story we roamed freely.
Our parents sometimes took us to the local dam
where when low it was a small cracked mud pool.
underneath the cracks were hibernating fish
along with frogs and lots of wringing things.
Our dog Kim used to visit the neighbour
carrying back totally unhurt chicks and ducklings
she just wanted to show them to us
the neighbours used to panic at first.
Until they realised big as she was she meant no harm
they would sit in her mouth cheeping quite happily
It was the best place to grow up and we were sad
to leave it but Dad got promoted back to Dar
which was the capitol in the early fifty's
we lived in Oyster bay very near the ocean
Most days we played in the beautiful Bay
at low tide we searched the reefs
finding all matters of things like squid
I often wish I could turn back time to then
Tattered from custom
slightly stained
her old apron lay in a corner
idle
Each stain
gains life
used as a mitten
for oven roasts
apple tarts
carried outside on the back-porch
to cool down
a handkerchief
to wipe off grubby faces
a solace for spoilt tears
She bundled in it
loads of black figs
juicy peaches
ripe tomatoes
legumes from the garden
fresh eggs and
sometimes
baby chicks cheeping
to our delight
It was a purse
a clothes-pegs basket
A glove around her hands
to warm them in winter
she slipped it on
each morning to protect
her clothes
and shy little me
from strangers
she only took it off
when she
slept….
Listen to the wisdom, oozing from the wheezing woods,
Whimpering in euphony, far from the bustling boulevards,
Crooning, mumbling mellow chirping soothing strains.
The warbling of the warbles, buzzing of the bumblebees, fetching sputtering riddles!
Listen to the cryptic hooting, hissing, howling of the forest critters,
The whooshing weald is whistling, winking, whooping as living being!
Twittering its' silent sagacious saga when the ringing roots are entwining,
Gusting, the swooshing symphony of the smashing symbiosis.
The seeds are throbbing spasmodically into mature trees;
Sheltering the myriads of native wild species.
The wild blooms in seclusion are trilling in the tranquil breeze,
Twiddling and twirling in oblivion, invigorating the dying dandelions.
There is no hubbub; discrimination, feeble and strong, old and new,
Even cheeping competing species sloshing in consonance are clinking in gleeful communion!
The flapping, fluttering forest is clicking, caressing each other,
To enliven, the stup of the felled trees for hundred of years.
The mother trees are murmuring the lulling lullabies, nurturing their saplings.
They know not, the survival of the fittest, the gluttony!
In the thicket, there is no cacophony, but mere
Mellifluous rumbling of dribbling polyphony!
Baby birds cheeping in treetops high, mellow yellow,
Whippoorwills' song when even is nigh, red sunset glow,
Raucous crows in the hot noon sun, deep orange gold,
Humming bees in blazing wildflowers, dark green wold!
Seagulls' elegant glide over pounding surf, royal blue,
Crickets calling through a summer night, a black revue,
Loons hooting across transparent lake, twilight purple,
And cardinal chirps lonely songs, in pink crape myrtle!
Parrots squawk away the sunny hours, of forests green,
Nightingales sing forever and a day, white moonbeams,
Humming bird emblazons the peony bush, pretty pink,
Goldfinch trills on desert bush, as orange sun slinks!
Shield of dispersed clouds on the sky surface
Bright sun shining at its base
Whistling leaves in the soft morning winds
Cheeping birds enjoying their flights
Curious squirrel scurrying on a house wall
Holding something big in her mouth which looked like a ball
Flapping and circling of a target searching Raven pair
Chased away by an alert, smart Northern Flicker
View of the lake from a summit
Revealing shades of blue with greenery in the surroundings
A big yellow butterfly with black spots
Hanging out with a bee on flower tops
Treasure of a pink ball found on the way by the Labrador
Contentment and bliss felt by both through earth’s simple nature..
Easter egg hunts are proof your child can find things when they really want to. —Unknown
Peep, peep, peep, peeping, chirping, tweeting, peeping
cheeping wildly, declaring they aren’t sleeping
tiny cracks in shells, sure they’re alive and well,
each fluffy chick comes out in a soft pastel.
Peep, peep, peep, tweeting vigorously, quickly
so we are certain they’re quite strong, not sickly
searching for those bugs and worms, where is their mum?
ravenous, they’re sure to eat up every crumb!
Peep, peep, peep, cheeping so the whole world will know,
it won’t be long before their feathers will grow,
and, they’ll be pecking away in the barn’s stalls,
peeping at the farmer in his overalls.
Peep, peep, peep, singing until their heart’s content,
thinking they might be some child’s Easter present,
fragile wings guide them over the hay and dust,
reminding, in time, to farm life, they’ll adjust.
Peep, peep, peep, chirruping like they’ll never stop,
fluttering round the pigs who’re eating their slop,
trying to coax the cows to give them a drink,
darting in cow patties even though they stink.
Peep, peep, peep, squeaking merrily, their brisk songs,
poking creepy-crawlies, like their beak belongs,
never once forgetting secrets their mum taught,
the mysteries of a world where they knew nought.
Peep, peep, peep, peeping, chirping, tweeting, peeping,
wise as skies, where their gentle hearts are keeping,
panicking inside when the cat comes sneaking,
soothing chicks who know mother hen is peaking!