Long Robins Poems
Long Robins Poems. Below are the most popular long Robins by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Robins poems by poem length and keyword.
Dawn was bearing the load again for her siblings.
Quivering puppies who feared the shuttered house.
Her occupant was terrifying to them,
they did not understand the sense of this endeavor.
They are young, she told herself, meaning immature.
A swallow stopped to watch her lift the lacquered tiles.
Pretty soon we’ll have a parade, she muttered.
But two robins and a cardinal later made her smile.
She was lavishing generous coats of stain on the steps now.
“Do you think you have enough stain?” a voice asked.
She looked up to see a young man who made her swallow.
He was noticing the paint adorning her cheek, recognizing beauty.
It suddenly dawned on her that she was a woman,
Rounded in the right places, and ripe for courtship.
Suddenly she was grateful her siblings were in hiding.
This was the work of a woman now; let the enticing begin.
The astrologers have set a date
for an unique celestial phenomena;
why would the translucent Luna
turn ginger and then deep red?
Back in January it resembled a huge orange balloon,
its size was awesome to view;
it stood there to entertain a goon
whose sad mood turned into
the happiest song he ever sung...
and although the air was nippy, he strolled along!
Bloody moon of April, appear before I go to rest
and linger until the robins start warbling in their nest;
who wouldn't think of passion and envision dreams
that change with the seasons like your moonbeams?
Bloody moon of April, hang in that breezy, starless sky:
isn't this my last opportunity to marvel at you before I die?
O the warmth and the depth of the sun, o’er us,
for the yellows and reds, as they throw their shine
on the maples and oaks and the pines, caress
of the pale and ebon - all the blossoms stress.
And the flit of the robins, and rest on boughs,
as they lift up our spirits in singsong light.
We’ve a glimpse of once-paradise-sourced delight.
The long rays of God’s arms - they lean down to rouse.
Each new day, flows our way, and it fits like glove,
and we stretch out our arms like a child, and smile,
as we’re wrapped in the Dayspring’s colors and style.
All our senses awake, as God pours out love.
8/23/2022
I will sing because the robin sings;
I will sing cuz of the new born baby crying;
I will sing for the joys;
O
The joys that you bring, I will sing;
I was saying as the flowers bloom in spring
As well as winter time solace I will sing
O
I will sing I will sing I will sing
~
I will sing loud your praises;
I will sing of your faith and gracious;
Amongst all the joys and happy faces;
Crossing for the honors I'll sing forever
I will sing because the robins sing;
I will sing cuz of a newborn baby crying ;
I will sing for the joys you bring;
Hallelujah, oh Lord ;
My God I will sing;
O, Lord my God in heaven
I will sing
1/22/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr ©
From anthology. "by Grace His melodies"
Glinting glimpse of amber delight, golden dawn arrives
Enchanted by the symphonious chorus of robins’ voice
As yellow daffodils swing, lilting winds in ruby sunrise
When scented whiffs of pink hyacinth muse your smile
Awakening you from rosy dreams gleaming in your eyes;
Oh, the splendor of spring floats on wings of butterflies!
Hiding in foliage of tall verdant pine, bluebirds twitter joy
While merrily on red-maple tree sparrows dance nearby
As purple peonies, white daisies, on green-edges beautify
And standing tall in blazing colors ornamental tulips vie
Hypnotizing your sight, in awe of beautiful garden paradise;
Oh, the splendor of spring floats on wings of butterflies!
Refracting sun rays, tiny gems glint emerald green grass
While roses red, swaying merrily, adorn our side-walks
Spurring crimson-crested cardinal’s euphoric air dance
As flaunting graceful ambiance, a distinctive blue-jay flies
Circling lily of the valley, where buzzing bees fantasize;
Oh, the splendor of spring floats on wings of butterflies!
As the uplifting sunbeams upon morning’s horizon rise
Amid symphony of colors sensual impulses romanticize
Mesmerizing lyrics of love as rhythms of hearts harmonize
Hoisting tenor of passions high, blushing sapphire skies
Enamored in grandeur of nature’s wondrous enterprise;
Oh, the splendor of spring floats on wings of butterflies!
July 30, 2020
Placed 1st: Petals, buds, blossoms, bees, birds, butterflies poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
I've spanned these banks for many years,
made evident in the rusty tin adorning my roof
My sides are scarred , colors been stripped
from angry storms through hundreds of seasons.
My river bed ran dry back in late October
then Winter snows frosted my planks
but I was still fit for anyone crossing over
from one side to the other of the Kanawha River.
Come Spring, rushing water will flow under me
splashing over rocks as it rushes to the sea.
Bird droppings will build along each window sill
when nest-building robins arrive in flocks.
People walk across my wooden floor
some hesitate before taking each step
for my trusses tend to creak now and then
and I swell in places; curses of growing old.
I've been crossed by deer, hoofed by cows,
wheeled over by bicycle's and horse-drawn buggies.
They were all kinder than the smelly fumes spread
by those disrespectful autos that never slow down.
My weathered brows face North and South
making me a tunnel for bold Nor'easters
that swiftly tear through me and chip my paint.
I like to think it enhances my pastoral character.
I might be 'rickety,' but if you call me 'shabby'
that rumbling you hear will be me grumbling.
I'm proud of the state I'm in, physically sound
and geographically, two miles outside of town.
As long as I can stand on my supporting piers
I'll relive memories made beneath my roof.
A covered bridge spans more than the waters
of the gentle river where life flows free beneath me.
August 25, 2017
On rhythmic winds, they journey
traveling light – like wonder
a gentle reflection so worthy
still colors in indigo and silver,
melted hues of vibrant burgundy
and yellow…
on crisp, clear mornings
when the heart feels so amazed
by the dewdrop promises
the lilacs and the graceful sway
of emerald pines,
bursting maples and oaks
all the songs, flowing in
from the wrens, robins and hopeful
chirps, resting quietly on the limbs
coloring the breeze in pristine peace,
a stillness that blends with the wind
creating a joy that lasts,
a music of hope that collects
all the weeping willow’s
gentle, the laughter
of those fireflies, reflecting
what it means to live,
like living is all there is
like living is the epiphany
like living is the way to see
past the sorrow, through the mist
into the clearing
where petal meets sweet
and the ache of a presence
far more beautiful than the trees
can be felt…
it isn’t the wind
it isn’t the tree
it isn’t the rose or the river’s
breath…
it isn’t the bird
it isn’t the leaf
it isn’t the stillness
of a life in need…
it is love, it is grace
it is hope, it is faith
it is the One whom I praise
because He will always amaze
'Tis glorious springtime agin in Wayne County, Indiana!
(Never mind that a blizzard jes' blew in frum Montana!)
Folks wuz beginnin' to till their gardens to plant pertaters,
And wuz bustin' clods to set out plants uv beefsteak termaters!
Guys is tinkerin' with their mowers though they run in fits and starts.
Shucks! They cain't use 'em nohow till the snow and ice departs!
Folks'll swat at muskeeters searchin' fer elusive morel mushrooms.
All these pesky things will be forgotten if'n ever the peonies blooms!
Cardinals and robins returnin' home by the snow is confused.
Them hearty "snowbirds" comin' back from Floriday ain't amused!
But all too soon they'll face the stiflin' humidity and heat.
Come this October they'll return to their Dixie Land retreat!
Farmers is tunin' John Deeres to plow but the ground is froze.
They cain't even rely on the Farmer's Almanac, heaven knows!
Jes' when the apple, peach and mulberry trees wuz all abloom,
Along came the springtime freeze and, alas, they met their doom!
Another thing that has some Hoosier folks in a terrible snit,
Is the change to daylight savin's time but they'll git over it.
The good folks of Wayne County have jes' one simple request:
"Montana! We'd be obliged if'n you kept yer weather way out west!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
She has arrived! Everything is greening up in a delightful dance.
My mood is on volume high; every year it gets a little prancier.
I could not turn myself down a notch even if I wanted to, but why would I?
I am running on energy fumes left by the happy daffodils I spotted in the
otherwise ugly gray ditch this morning. She is here! Spring is here!
She always renews the yard and me with an enthusiastic wind that
rejuvenates us, and coaxes us to bloom and green and be our best.
Chirping cardinals greet Spring in a happy way, thrilled to see water again.
Their communal bath is loud today, they are exuberantly excited. Tiny lavender violets are winking at me from the foot of their bath.
I begin my wild woman soul chant to greet Spring as I dance around
the yard, in a loud, happy, skipping way.
“Yah Wah Lay Lay, Yah Yah, Lay. Yah Hey, Hey, Hey
Yah Wah!” I sing scream at the top of my lungs,
startling no forest creature, as they are all
chanting their own happy songs.
A jubilant rooster crow greets me from the back forty.
I am not the only one up, dancing
around, being puffed up.
A black streak of a pup runs past me. My dog who has acted comatose
all winter, is now a young pup, leaping six foot fences, barking like there is no tomorrow. The squirrels run as she leaps toward them.
Robins are hopping. Moths are back, the scouts of the butterflies. Soon we will have bees, and wasps, faeries, dragonflies, and grasshoppers.
I dance and chant and sing my way around the yard, marveling at what
has Spring has done overnight.
The meadow and the trees are smiling today, recognizing Spring.
Written: December 31, 2018 Contest: Jubilant Joy
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
It was early in the morning
I had my cup of tea
When a little robin landed
Beside me peculiarly
Outside on the porch
We talked, him and I
I taught him how to speak
He taught me how to fly
We glided over deserts
And perched atop jungles
We saw men and women talking
Beneath us just a mumble
We saw Paris and Rome
Geneva and Berlin
We saw wonders of the world
Places no man has ever been
I wiped a tear from my eyes
As we landed back home
For I had seen miracles
Which I had never known
Fly away I said
To that little brown bird
Go away from this place
It is not safe, take my word
But he did not listen
And he stayed right by my side
He taught me how to live
I taught him how to die
Thus is the way
With humans and robins
I am afraid it all ends
In a fate far too common
So fly away
While you still have a chance
Less you end up like the foolish robin
And the lonely old man