Song of the Meadowlark
In the air, a lark on wing,
Who lightly perches
On a ranch fence wire
Then softly sings
With heartfelt desire,
and intensity
That catches my attention;
Its feelings extended
And plea unreturned,
Like so many
Gifted warbler of vocal sound
Yearning for affection.
The song is carried
Across the lea on the breeze,
Wishfully seeking, —enticing
A response to the aria.
On this, we hopefully agree
That moxie will be rewarded.
the lake where they hid
a memory
their song
sublimated
a cattail beaten
remnants taken by wind
a semi roars past
someone calls progress
someone says
ninety percent chance of rain
someone says
dance barefoot through puddles
a murder of crows shadows skies
someone looks to the sun
the sun reflects
faceless waters
meadowlark singing
happy songs early in morn ~
cheery yellow notes
FIRST PLACE WINNER
written August 12, 2021
for “Songbird Haiku” Poetry Contest
by Tania Kitchen
Syllables checked by PS Syllable Counter
PASSIONS BEATS MY HEART SOUNDS OF THE MEADOWLARK
I see the night for it is dark
There’s some dim trace of light
Passions spores surround my heart
Rhyming rhythmic beats sounds of...
the golden Meadowlark
................................................11/7/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2018©
TALKING BLUE MEADOWLARK IN THE DARK
As I look past the dark;
I see the blue meadow-lark;
tweet and whistle;
chirp sing your song we'll listen;
chirp-chirp-tweet tweet;
Such beautiful communication so innocent so sweet;
As you leap in mid flight, yet I see you in the night;
6/23/18
written by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
There is a lark who is born to live in the meadow,
perched far above the smooth mountain stones.
She will rise from fields of the cloverleaf cradles,
with a foxglove petal, riding her wings.
A feather she's worn, will flutter on down,
to welcome us here, and to tickle our nose.
With a moment to cling, it is soft as a dream;
then it lifts into streams, of the sweet morning breeze.
She must sing from the heart, to awaken the dawn.
Her valor will linger, in the late morning sun.
Her tempo, announces a thaw in the spring,
Bringing a promise, of flowers and green.
Her voice has a cadence, a solo, ascending,
that comes with an encore, tremolos impending,
so fragile, it harks as a piccolo, playing.
She circles at dawn, to wake you and cheer you.
But at sundown, she croons, a soprano to soothe you.
She's a lark from a meadow, that mellows the heart
___________________________________________________________
When I first flew the nest, my spirits were low;
how my world has changed from one year ago.
Now fully fledged, I spread open my wings!
My voice, once a whisper, now gently sings.
You can feel my music through verse all day long,
for my chosen words make a joyful song!
With confidence up, I fly round your group—
my perch for relaxing is ‘poet tree’ soup!
Chosen Bird is a Meadowlark - cheerful, inner journey
05~12~15
Contest: Picture yourself as a bird
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
101 Poems in a row #8 sponsored by PD :-)
For William and Laura Nance
if the jabberwocky were a clock
would it talk in jabberese
or simply be right twice a day
in order to sometimes please
what if ants were big as horses
and horses could take to wing
would the meadowlark, lark or
perhaps the songbird sing
if the songbird did decide to sing
would it be bass or baritone
oh, yeah, the hoity toity thing
likely to sing and dance alone
if the bull horn bellowed long
and the fog horn fumed a cloud
would the dog bane bite and the
Johnnies jump up before a crowd
would your blankie snuggle close
when the wookie is on the bed
and fly you back to never land
on pixie dust coated gingerbread
I intentionally left caps and punc out
of the poem for a more child like effect.
© Jun 8 2011 Charles Henderson
For Deb's "Go Ask Alice" contest
I heard a meadowlark today,
The first one I have heard
Since I left Dakota prairies.
That cheery little bird
Brought back so many memories
Of childhood young and free.
Sing on Songster and take me back
To how it used to be,
To the time when Mom and Daddy
Held most of my young heart.
Brothers and little sister
Filled up the other part.
When I left home, I could not know
How much I left behind.
Childhood once abandoned
Can be hard again to find.
The march of time was stopped today,
When I heard your melody.
It's moving backwards and I've found
The carefree child in me.
I know it's but a sweet reprieve
From time and all its pain,
But sweet bird, while you sing your song.
I am a child again.
For "Sounds Familiar" Contest Won first place
In a field both sere and stark,
stood a forlorn Meadowlark.
Motionless, he eyed the ground,
ears alert for any sound.
Unaware, an insect stirred,
deep in dust and cockleburs.
A grain of sand became dislodged
and rolled between the lone bird's claws.
The bird allowed himself to blink,
his beady eyes as black as ink.
The bug crawled out, antenna waving,
which only piqued the lone bird's craving.
With one swift hop, the bird attacked.
The bug, alas, a midday snack.
©Danielle White