Long Macaw Poems
Long Macaw Poems. Below are the most popular long Macaw by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Macaw poems by poem length and keyword.
“How wonderful yellow is. It stands for the sun!” Vincent Van Gogh
Yellow
Yellow is
a painted curb or lines upon a street,
a sign of caution where trains or pedestrians cross,
Yellow pages, school buses, raincoats that we wear.
Thus grabbing our attention, yellow rarely is dross.
Yellow is
an ear of corn with butter dripping off it,
pineapple, lemons, and the skin of passion fruit,
bees with their honeycomb so nice and sweet,
the pear and bananas so many of us eat.
Yellow is
the yolk of eggs, mustard, an omelet,
the wonderful inside custard of chocolate eclair,
bright turmeric, yellow-brownish cumin, and the oil of olives.
It’s even one of the colors of a gummy bear!
Yellow is
abundant in the whole wide world.
It’s where Mother Nature often spreads
across a lawn, fields or wild meadows
hundreds and hundreds of dandelion heads.
Yellow is
a tulip, a rose, or a butterfly on them.
It’s hay, bamboo or hills of grass gone dry,
a dahlia, goldenrod, an iris or a daisy
and the lovely sunflower turning toward the sky.
Yellow is
the color of one fish only called the yellow tang!
Flashes of yellow can show up on a parakeet,
the goldfinch, macaw, and cockatiel.
Easter chicks ad ducklings sport the color looking sweet.
Yellow is
a sapphire rare and also citrine quartz,
amber and the sun that rules our days.
Cowards are called yellow; on the other hand,
it’s the optimistic aura of those with happy ways.
I entered Last Chance Café feeling quite a bit leery.
How would I get my life answers in a place this dreary?
Welcome to Last Chance! The waitress said with mirth.
She wore at least eleven hundred pins on her shirt.
Two of her front teeth were missing and she walked with a limp.
On her left shoulder sat the ugliest big butted chimp.
Other patrons were yelling. One got out a gun and shot.
I expected some blood when the other guy dropped on the spot.
The waitress yelled “Cut!” and they all began to guffaw.
You are in the right place! Stated a well-bred macaw.
I heard a huge sizzle from a skillet and saw pancakes stacked high.
This is the place to get over a death or a breakup from a mean guy.
Welcome to Last Chance! Said a young woman with blue hair.
She slid into the booth and said “you are not going anywhere.”
Two unicorns came in and began tooting up a windstorm of glitter.
I could not give up on life now; I am no kind of quitter.
Is this the place? An old farmer asked, coming in hot.
There was a bunch of laughter as he slid into a booth slot.
I had been upset, angry, annoyed, and was moping too.
But now I turned all of my attention on the girl with hair of blue.
Get over yourself! She said in a persnickety way.
You are not the end all and be all at the end of each day.
When you help others, you are actually helping yourself.
I woke when my alarm clock fell off the damned shelf.
A bird that loves warm weather, I am beautiful and bright
although some in my family can even be pure white!
I have a friend like that (so cute). His name is cockatoo.
You can call ME Scarlet. I’m yellow, red and blue!
How beautifully I blend in with colors you can see
in Amazon’s exotic jungle. That’s where you’ll find me!
Curved and quite distinctive is my large and lovely beak.
It cracks nuts (even coconuts!). It’s certainly not weak.
I’ve got strong claws for clutching as well as four long toes.
Plus I know more things than your average bird knows!
That’s because I’m sociable and smart inside my flock.
Our tail feathers we shake and noisily we squawk!
That’s how we communicate; if caught, we learn to gab.
That’s one reason we’re a bird that bad guys like to nab.
I’m charming and gregarious. Sassy too I’d say!
But just you try to catch me; I bet I’d get away.
After I am 3, I hardly even get to date
because I live for many years and stay with just one mate!
To watch me in my setting, I think you’d be in awe.
Do you know precisely? I’m the parrot called macaw!
July 26, 2020
for Tania Kitchin's I Am A Bird - Personification Poetry Contest
You have the hysterical look of mutes
that roar through narrow straws.
I see in your yellow eyes – a Jules Verne winking moon.
Soon that ribbed pink cave will release
another flock of demented coots
hacked from the craw of an ancient macaw.
Soon the whip of your vocal squawks
will pluck my eyes from their trembling stalks.
Maine Coon, part Persian, part whiskery herring,
grimalkin mouser,
I love you not when you sing.
Verne goes to the movies, a flickering French theater
of painted malarkey, where mice threaten to Can-Can.
Buck Rodgers shoots rays of hyperbolic sound
from the open nozzle of your mouth.
We love to make lists,
To describe, name, number.
How can it have value,
If not on my list.
As logger I stand
Before the green forest,
The numbered trees
Are ones to cut.
The forest cut down
Is only to me
Bigger box to live in,
A shiny new car,
The species I slaughter
Are not for my count,
They appear on
Another mans list.
Naturalists say
We'll not care to,
Protect animals
We're not taught
To love.
But lists stand appalled
At life in the forest,
So long they peter
In our dismay,
Jaguar, Lemur
Capybara, Agouti
Blue Morpho Butterfly,
Tree Toed Sloth.
Tapirs, Ocelots
Even Kin Ka Jous,
Countless insects
Eagles and bats.
Scarlet Macaw,
Reptiles, amphibians,
Snakes and lizards
Too many to count.
Epiphytes, bromeliads
The Bougainvillaea
Ferns, moses, lichens,
Quite without number.
Two thirds of flowering
Plants are found
In rainforests
Going on lists adinfinitum
But do you really care.
Capitalist drivers
Economy must grow
Making it cheap
To maximise profit.
Palm oil a desert
Hard wood for looks
Till next years fashion
Changes the rolls.
Who can make lists
Play the accountant,
If the bottom line
Only shows human worth.
How many species are
Bought for ten dollars,
Balanced in columns
Of profit and loss.
What accountants
Hand or eye could
Frame the aeons
That go to create
The beauty
Of the ecology of life.
Tiny movement
On the wicker chair
Jumping spider
Catches the eye,
Instant spring
Strand to strand.
All its being
Compact perfection,
Taut intent
In the moment of life.
Awed to wonder
Begs the question,
How can anyone
Cut the rainforest
That I learn is,
Though never will see.
If you want a treat, look up the most colorful birds
Ever made by God, and you will come up with the best.
Paradise tanager, red-bearded bee-eater, macaw. My word!
What a fantastic creature in and out of her glorious nest.
The kingfisher has an azure blue that is a most unique hue.
Rainbow lorikeet brings God’s promise to us. Hope alive too.
Violet crowned wood nymphs are a turquoise, matching the sea.
There are so many lovely birds, and not all in a tree.
The peacock has always been amazing to me.
The male, who has all the glorious colors that you see.
The female peacock is brown and dull, kind of plain.
So she can hide her chick’s nest in the barn, or in a storm drain.
No matter what bird color you love or admire.
Know that there are some birds out there the colors of fire.
I have not seen them all, for I have not traveled to some places.
But I admire God’s creatures on social media spaces.
My Love
Your skin glows like the Apple,
blossoms Sweet as the Marigold in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your Saxophone voice
and leaps like a wolf at the whisper of your name.
The evening ascends in on a great Macaw wing.
I am calmed by your Scarf that I carry into the twilight
of Silkybeams and hold next to my fingers.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of sadness.
As my hair falls from my blouse, it reminds me of your touch.
In the hushed, I listen for the last laughter of the spring.
My heated heart leaps to my destination.
I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret
voice so that we may writhe as one,
heart to heart, in search of the glorious blue
and spiritual amore of love.
Written by Mintra J Mankasingh June 25 2018
Obviously male, I strut my stuff and make my song of Key Key Key.
I am the captain of this branch in the banks of this bamboo tree.
My relatives are from Costa Rica, and are as aggressive as paprika.
Except the looney ones from Argentina, who dance the Macarena.
Wait! That’s a lie, but we do have cousins in Panama.
They live in proximity of the great white macaw.
We are not petite like a parakeet.
But our rainbow throats simply cannot be beat.
We are medium sized, which sometimes makes tourists surprised.
A diehard necatavore; I eat sugar-rich flowers in meadow next door.
Do not wander far from my mountain gem tribe.
Or my lovely mate, my darling sweet heart bride.
She has laid two white eggs, sitting has made her cross.
Up seven foot high, they are covered by moss.
I am obviously male, I strut my stuff and make my song Key Key Key.
No other fiery throated hummingbird has the confidence of me.
As the September of my days befall me it crosses my mind
soon my Autumn shall pass and Winter beckons me
Are you prepared dear mortal to accept death
face it, can you look death in the eye and smile
The Greenland shark can live to five hundred years
mysterious creatures of the seas
I catch myself remembering the birth of Spring
it fades softly and slips away
My Summer years full, brass and young
too much fun for life is endless in youth.
Now body worn, showing time with aches and pains
everything falling apart held together by medical wonders
Family and friends fade from life one by one
and you always get that senior citizen discount automatically now
When you outlive your pet Macaw you know time is escaping
faith important again, finding renew meaning is frost ensues
A false belief of immortality only a child's heart can see
in the eternal youth of Spring. Winter approaches
Do you prepare everything for others to ease their life
when you are gone or do nothing for it is easier than facing
Mortality.
I OPENED A DOOR
NOT SURE WHERE I AM.
OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD
I WOULD SAY TROPICAL LAND.
RAIN FOREST MAYBE.
IT'S HUMID AND HOT.
IT'S A LONG LOOK UP
TO THE SOARING TREE TOPS.
LOT'S OF STRANGE SOUNDS
ABOVE AND BELOW.
SOME ARE FAMILIAR
MOST I DON'T KNOW.
I LISTEN AND VIEW
IN EVERY DIRECTION.
I TAKE IN THE COLORS
AND MANY REFLECTIONS.
I SAW SOMETHING LEAP.
I THOUGHT IT WOULD FLY.
IT WASN'T A BIRD
IT'S A FROG IN THE SKY.
THAT WAS AMAZING.
AT LEAST FIFTY FOOT FLIGHT.
JUST MY OPINION
A THRILL AND DELIGHT.
I SPOTTED SOMETHING
IT'S GREEN LIKE THE LEAVES.
WHAT I SAW NEXT
WAS HARD TO BELIEVE.
A FROG TOOK A LEAP
A SNAKE TOOK A DIVE.
SNATCHED HIS DINNER
I SAW IT LIVE
EMERALD TREE BOA
A BEAUTIFUL GREEN.
THE NOCTURNAL CREATURE
BLENDS INTO THE SCENE
RAINFOREST BEE'S
WERE BUZZING AROUND.
A YOUNG SPIDER MONKEY
WAS AT PLAY ON THE GROUND
BLUE MORPHO BUTTERFLY
FLUTTERING FREE.
ENJOYING LIFE
AS IT SHOULD BE.
A SCARLET MACAW
MADE A DEBUT.
OR SHALL I SAY
WAS JUST PASSING THROUGH
RAINFOREST CREATURES
ABOVE AND BELOW
SOME ARE FAMILIAR
MOST I DON'T KNOW.
Michael E. Harris
05262021