Long Songbirds Poems
Long Songbirds Poems. Below are the most popular long Songbirds by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Songbirds poems by poem length and keyword.
Most mornings I can be found in my backyard,
checking milkweed leaves I protectively guard.
I collect them to nourish and nurture til the day
butterflies emerge, dry their wings, and fly away.
I smile at the sight of dewdrops on green leaves
that sates great thirst for which all flora grieves.
Above mountain crests, clouds are aureate gold,
reflections of sunlight, as I watch morning unfold.
The dawning of a new day is Nature's sworn duty.
She takes her work seriously, resulting in beauty
evident to anyone who enjoys songbirds trilling
or who find sunrise pastel-colored skies thrilling.
I inhale the scent of the ocean's crisp salty air,
and revel in the breeze tussling through my hair.
In moments when I walk along a sandy beach,
Nature exposes herself as if within my reach.
I find solace on walks. I'm in nature's tranquil grace.
At peace with myself when I accept her embrace.
Humbled when standing beneath a forest's canopy
and all I contemplate is writing a poetic rhapsody.
I appreciate nature much more when I'm by myself,
never disturbing its harmony, as I move with stealth.
I listen to leaves rustling, walking in drizzling showers,
never tire of seeing bees sip pollen from wildflowers.
I hold just as dear, the time between day and night
when the sun slips into the horizon, hour of twilight.
That's when cicada call and lightning bugs take wing.
Gifts from nature's hand would make the Muses sing.
Sweet songbirds sing no cheerful refrains,
only silence greets Winter's approach.
Bittersweet; Autumn colors signal
Winter storms are destined to encroach.
The barbecue grills are stowed away,
when the skies morph into clouds of grey.
And as mildew spreads on rotting leaves,
Deja vu feelings come into play.
Snowdrifts smother slippery streets till
slow-moving snowplows arrive on site.
And abandoned cars are left stranded,
yet the city looks clean, draped in white.
Everyone is snowbound, and yet folks
cling to the hope; Winter won't stay long.
Spring will soon arrive, and instantly,
lure the songbirds back to sing their song.
It was winter, and I ceased to remember.
Dandelions hide their pride in December.
Their proliferation faded in fall,
but they were radiant, I now recall.
At spring's first touch I discovered their color,
even yellower than butter.
My heart began to flutter at one's wake.
This flower was alive, not a plastic fake.
Then everywhere they seemed to appear---
the color of sun, the color of cheer!
Strikingly, they possessed every lawn,
greeting each peculiar dawn.
As summer's sun began to blare,
their distinguished color dissolved into air.
Then something curious began to settle---
a magician's act dressed each faded petal
with points as lovely as songbirds nearby,
soft and clustered as lashes of the eye.
I could make a wish, to blow them away,
but they'll leave more remnants as they stray.
They'll sprout with the sun and a soil that's wet.
Maybe I could never forget.
You are red sun in my gray cloudy sky
Cheering me on despite blues in life
I look up and see your beautiful light
From gold glowing soul such a delight
As white wind beneath my brown wing
You carry cranberry heart love inspiring
Your yellow whimsical smile like spring
Give rise to sapphire songbirds that sing
You are as sweet as sap from green tree
Lime cure your laugh defeats melancholy
Moonlight carves path from Black Sea
That is teal tragic past rebirth’s dream
Your heart is a love flower warm opening
Even in rain shower you power positivity
I can look at you for hours inhaling peace
You empower what nectar is to a bee
Rooted on a moss-banked hill,
its branches spread far and wide.
By Summer's end, leaves veined gold and crimson.
Then, Autumn’s hand brushed them with russet paint.
Twas the time of year the elm tree despised.
Wind ruffled in their last days,
leaves danced as if burning flames,
until gales sent them tumbling to the ground.
Barren, as though in malaise, the elm stood.
Blame was cast upon harsh Winter weather.
Weeping for its naked limbs,
on a moss-banked hill it grieved.
For the change of season, it held loathing
and contempt for Nature's wrongful doing.
For surrounding its roots with drifts of snow
But on cusp of Spring's advent
tiny buddings will appear.
Branches will be clothed in fulgent raiment,
an umbrella agape, providing shade
for trilling songbirds in need of perching.
Reigning from atop the hill,
Ancient elm, regally frocked.
Sadness bleeds the weeping heart
beyond the clouded penitentiary
where tombstones sit in lighted valleys
and songbirds fall from the skies
Wallowing on gallow’d heels
past lavender of the once scented
Scraping the white picket fence
till flakes of life rest scattered on the sun baked walk
Cracks in the concrete beckon,
whistling in the wind swept frowns
on a truthful Tuesday
that holds no meaning
At this gathering, the masses run
and banners wave a hasty lingering farewell
Popcorn vendors remove their striped clothing
of peppermint colors and butter stained collars
Trees leave and leaves wither
beneath this canopy of sorrow
painted in a language
that does not include love
A lone black cat zigzags its way,
searching for a soul it may affect,
as wingless sparrows squirm in rhythm
to “Born under a bad sign”
Dreams now sent afloat on aimless streams
of melting memories are softened by the heat
yet intensified by the arcade mirror
that skews the view formed before the mind
Carnivals, use this day to guess your weight
for your age does not matter, you are dead anyway
In your right hand one, in your left the other
two pieces…still bleeding…weeping
The songbird
Free from being caged
Her melody is beautiful
Because she is no longer afraid
She doesn't sing for your amusement
The songbird does not sing for fame
Oh, she sings for love
Because it can not be tamed
Born wild
Songbirds of all types and colors
Fathers
Brothers
Sisters
Mothers
Beauty deserves to be set free, and
She honored everyone
When that sweet relief
Of freedom hit her wings
When she flew away for the first time
It was a spectacle to see
She perched and landed
Upon a giant sequoia tree
She held no resentment
And the only matter that
She was now captured by
Was her new profound view
The songbird has love in her heart
And that's one thing you can't steal
The music in her voice
Obstructed my fear, she
Began to guide me with her remedy and
I assented, with my mind now clear
It was incredible
The power echoing through her
The enchantment that she showed
Admiring her strength
Tiny in form but beautiful in design
Reminding me that love conquers all
I could feel my sorrows, turn into hope
I had burst with senses of a budding flower, ready to grow
Oh, how hearing her..
Through my layers
She peeled
Oh, how my encounter with her..
Made me feel
Like a songbird, too
My lonely heart looks upon a pale blue sky
that grows dark
with a quiet and solemn understanding of what was
a love...never to be forgotten
now a stumbling wanderer
trying to cross the heart's desert
where the sun will set without color
and songbirds are only heard in echoes
of yesterday's songs
that play like haunting melodies
in a whispered timeless fashion
Alone, with the sadness of death
filled with unleased tears used to paint memories
on the darkened walls of happier times
when love was a glorious dream
that trembled the heart in an unyielding truth
the day love died...without saying goodbye
8/11/19
I find solitude along the trodden path
where effervescent sounds from a stream
quiet my thoughts
it descends across green jagged rocks
where the path winds through tall Elms
they stand as sentries... where songbirds sing
through the limbs of morning mist's sunlit glow
of splayed light that pierces dark trunks
moving like a giant chest heaving
from the lungs of nature
their limbs woven overhead...arched
above crumpled leaves that lay against the edges
of my chosen path
I pause to sit in silence
to allow my soul to see and hear
and free my burdens from the mundane
in this wondrous place of solitude
where my mind drifts in dreams
of unfettered thought
with the serenity that surrounds
the songbirds songs
when I turn inward in quiet reflection
5/2/18
Like an ache, in the startled breath
A moment, a prayer, a regret
Can I see beyond the word’s quiet death?
Wisdoms taught by souls who beget…
Griefs fallen on hearts who believe
Silence fills the night, stars and moon
Writing the melancholy, as I grieve
Nothing is as it was, but oh so soon…
The words pour from the soul, a story
Songs in rhythms of light,
It’s never the past, despite its glory
Who reveals the memories we fight
Will the tales still our quiet verses
Visions, images so often flawed
All of those shadows the dream curses
Tearing down walls, a heart thawed…
By the silence beneath a tender gaze
The chorus a poet bleeds,
On the wings of a spirit caught up in praise
Risking those memories poetry breeds
Displayed on the surface of each rhyme
There are whispers of grace, so bold
Rising in the spirit, tearstains climb
Into the music of a heart made of gold
A sonnet, a couplet, whatever ode
Glistening slivers of lights who shine
It’s to Our Creator, all poetry is owed
He’s brought our souls a love so very fine
In the succulent music of each poem
Are notes of a song, a psalm, a prayer
We all can give praise, as just below Him
Are splatters of insight, our words will bare
Naked colors, still murmurs of life
Seeking to silence the dark dread
Felt by the troubled, all that strife
Lost amid the words a poet said
As a weak heart promises to be brave
Amid the verse, there are visions
Lovely words, ventures a heart must save
Even before the poet makes revisions
Write on, precious soul, write it down
Tell the world what is felt, what is felt
Are feelings on light in which we drown
If we remember any heart can melt…
When given their answers through words
Brought to life by a spirit, understood
Thoughts and feelings, gentle as songbirds
Every poem read feels as it should…
Every poem is felt, and it feels so good!!!