Long Mockingbird Poems
Long Mockingbird Poems. Below are the most popular long Mockingbird by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mockingbird poems by poem length and keyword.
The early morning walkabouts
gathers in the view
an ocean tide of green yellowed sprouts
splashing throughout in garden cue
as flower buds edge forth upon the turf
and petal blossoms flutter down to earth.
It's late spring n pause assumed
upon the garden splash
when flowers once budded and bloomed
but never seem long enough to last.
but there it is, a rhapsody
somewhere hiding in tree leaves.
Unseen but well heard
a ballad for the seasons repeating
an echoed repertoire of a mockingbird
filled with spring and summer greetings
calling out melodies earth-shaking
enjoy the Sunday morning with little hesitating.
Wasting time, smoking cigarettes. Cigarettes
All is fine, she's got no regrets. No regrets
Everyone seems to be mad
Dressed to the nines, heart shaped lips, no-one to kiss
Whistles n bells, n' no more than this, more than this
Emptiness sells, blinking lights
Listen, I'm a natural, feel like an animal in a zoo
Next to impossible, almost too beautiful to be true
'til it happens to you
Lately, I've been eating brown leaves, morning star
He's all I need, watching over me, over me
Everyone seems to be mad
Wishin' I knew what the matter was, matter was
You cannot tell what knowing does, knowing does
Whistles n' bells, blinking lights
Maybe I'm an accident, passersby are standing around
One forgotten elephant the circus has long left town
And I'm still around
Listen to the fork-tongued or the sweet song mockingbird
All you want is your fun, come the dawn y'seem so absurd
Hey, have you not heard?
Everyone seems to be mad
Whistles n' bells, blinking lights. Blinking lights
A Quicky
I am on seven heaven;
I have been driven
To write.
I stay up all night,
Sometimes till daylight
Just for a quicky rhyme,
Writing one line at a time
While I’m still in my prime.
Depends on my mood,
When I have an attitude.
My writes can look like I brood,
Or ready to scream;
Or in a daydream.
I’m Aphrodite
In a sexy nightie
out of fashion
full of passion.
Or I’m a bird,
A tiny Hummingbird,
Mimicking Mockingbird.
Or a Thunderbird
Convertible that never stalls
with wide whitewalls.
Please don’t misunderstand,
A lot I planned.
I stay up all night,
Sometimes till daylight
Just for a quicky rhyme.
4/2/2020
Just musing
Had to add a little humor to your life and a little less bad reality.
Absorbing sunset colors as I sat,
I heard the soft mews of a mournful cat,
Lost somewhere in the garden near the lane.
For its forlorn owner I sought in vain.
Suddenly there came the sounds of quail calls
Though quail never feed here as evening falls.
Were their cries clues to where the cat was now?
I listened, careful, for the next meow.
Soon came a cascade of solo singing:
Robins, jays, finches sang as if on cue.
Which was that silent creeping cat stalking?
I would bet those birds wanted to know too.
Wrens, larks, and chickadees chimed cheerily;
All the while, nary a bird did I see.
I searched and I called for my feline friend;
Shrugging, I gave up, my search at an end.
I turned back to the house, walking slowly,
When the cat called from the sycamore tree.
I looked up as I thought I heard a dove;
There was the high-leaping sight that I love:
The silhouetted imitator sly
Of the untroubled rosy evening sky;
Colorful, charming, and sometimes absurd,
A fluttering, mimicking mockingbird.
Tick…tick… snooze time for night
morning’s face peek.
I Stretch out my wings
a prayer song out my bill
every morning’s ritual.
Across the land dash
where to I sweat my daily bread.
Deep my head here and pick there
and as usual, drawn I am from now
by my rhyme, verse, lyric slices;
this time, down an aisle of ballads, narratives and sonnets.
From their smell I pick an ingredient or two for my stew
for within always is a simmering pot
half baked songs, yearn to fully cook.
Mockingbird: finding your soul purpose, recognition of abilities
Contest: Picture yourself as a bird
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
"Spring being a tough act to follow, God created June." Al Bernstein
June’s moon illumines with gold light in a sapphire sky.
It’s as clear to me as a cloudless night summertime is nigh.
Though still-cool primrose evenings linger on from spring,
I listen for the sounds that warmer nights will bring:
crickets’ chirruping, whippoorwills in leafy trees. Sing,
oh lovely robin. Mockingbird, let me hear your charming croon.
Common loon, may I slumber to your haunting tune?
Sultry days mid-summer will be coaxing me to go
on long mid-afternoon walks to a yellow-flowered meadow.
Maybe I’ll go wading in cool water of a stream,
then lie beneath a willow and drift into a dream.
Fleeting is the sunny season; like my dreams, it too will end.
Then I will be writing of the beauty fall shall send.
Has the Milkyway been altered, does it
now need saved? Never mind, I’ll draw
mermaids anyway.
I wanted steady onward. Seems I’m never
heard. I need a mockingbird. Could familiars
best somewhere, somehow, still linger?
To get the sky back on track the galaxy must
be regained or has it expired, its hope past
tired? I’m stuck on the outer rim where no
answer has ever been. Join me, bring your
confusion, you will both fit right in.
Not engaged or vacant, not present or absent,
his eyes hold no malice. My eyes are filled
with need to know how we should proceed.
Pokemon have been gathered, some soft
cushy and large, and some hard little figures.
I believe what matters is the comfort he gets
from just a squeeze.
Rough challenges bounce, smacking hours
around. Tough ordeals stack fears like circles
in squares that cast their shadows unfair.
Has the Milkyway been altered? My child’s
health has faltered. Long shadowy goosebumps
are everywhere, even goosebumps mermaids
believe in and wear.
Across the limpid and serene river, the oasis of the Wild West pioneers,
there are ivory and charcoal peaks waiting for mountaineers
to discover as they rest under the long-leafed pines that sway;
on this side, the saw-tooth oaks and the daisy bushes are lovely greeters.
Not long ago, this abandoned upland was the home of gold-diggers,
sarcasm and violence went hand in hand...even eagles could have lost their feathers,
and those cluttered wooden shacks weren't not built for comfort,
but with limited space, they could hardly stretch out their legs and sleep like bears.
Travelers are very fascinated by the peace and scenery, not seen from their urban lair;
come to enjoy a short period of tranquility and breathe in the crisp air:
some write, some paint...others dream away to visualize that great era!
Look past that river, willow oaks and maples can soothe the travels of a trudging bear.
Find your spot, whenever you choose and be vowed by an imagination so rare;
take off your fedora hat and go beyond those mountains brightened by the sun's glare,
let a mockingbird or shrike delight your senses with their beautiful song...
with a fervid wish, let them take you where they have watched the new moon's mare.
He knew he had rubbed against some big shoulders.
Some like him and other were anoyed. What bothered him was they all existing relationships of there own. Some were ones you didn't wanna get involved with, some were brotherish, some were fools who aligned for fun and entertaining the boss. The one where you were instructed to stroke the ego, of top ranked superstars often meant learning a something that detailed your place in the company. some of these relationships were real, these guys almost lived together. I remember one friday night the camera guy told me that saturday starts after friday, I thought he was helping me with being on time. But this jerk drank a six pack in my locker room knowing the boss uses the new guys lockerroom as his office, to help the new guys get instruction. Five members of the staff were in this large lockerroom with me and two new guys, and we separated to get dressed, well we had private roomes and showers,I showered and came out, and the boss asked me if i had a problem. I said know, he pulled up a bag and asked whats this? I said it aint mine. He leaned over to sniff me. And then the jerk came in and said it mine. It didn't do me any favors, later the Boss told me I should have told him it was the camera guys' what's up with that Jerk or something. Then I realized, they was positioning me. He stuck me in With Giant Crusha, the big guy who doesn't understand his own strenght. I was bruised, banged up and the next night he booked me againstSwainson Thrush and Marsh Wren, they tossed me out the ring in that handicap match, and dove down on me from every angle.
I looked up and masked men were flying everywhere. Man dude got me cornered and his elbow busted up me mouth. I had to get a manager man. I thought my mind and soul was solid enough
to get me through changes, but man dealing with people and taking care of contractual deals man: swamp aint big enough for the fox and the grouse.: croons the mockingbird. Sometimes the fox needs a little guidance. Thats why I hired the Services of Super Acco. Make the swamp into a lake let me do my thang! Factors of Producing a World Class Where to be admired. I'm the best Where anybody have ever seen! Kayfade, or starred I am the where: where they all wanna be!
"Mockingbird"
What sayst thou?
Now, here you sit and I speak to you
through strange keys revolutionary,
poetry what is thy purpose for? A mirror wall?
Where visions unseen speak and reply contritely
black and white pedestrians robed in all their colours
walking now through their other realms?
“sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
and often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
and every fair from fair sometimes declines,
by chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;”
nightingales and mockingbirds all feathery poets in night-flight quilled
Nightingale, Nightingale thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor fail,
shining loudly, blessed revelry held in the loving hearts of pages whispering,
“Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May” …
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)