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I saw my sparrow hawk one summer back
It landed on my wooden platform specially made for him or her last year
A chest of creamy fur and a keen black eye.
An unusual sighting I ran to my mobile phone and flashed
Oh dear first shot messed up.
Second shot success as it flew away
Excited to see I developed the picture and the bird was not there.
How come. Then I noticed the smallest tip of a wing. My bird was lost.
Lost against the blur of the leafy bushes as she flew M shaped away.
My wife saw it so often I was jealous. My moment had came at last.
It came and went in a flash a wasted one.
And I have to now wait another summer.
i wonder why grass is green
and wind is never seen
who teaches birds to built a nest
and trees to take a rest
who ask the wind to blow
and radiant sun to glow
why the rain always fall down
and earth wears the sky as a crown
why the sun rises in east and sets in west
who suggests these rules,which i think are really best
who teach the bird to fly
and new born baby to cry
who gave ostrich wings, when there is no need
and why carbon form rings, may be to do good deed
why human form religion
and why the peace bird is only pigeon
why the animals are called dumb
while they can speak their own tongue
the answer of all these treasure
is only NATURE, NATURE and NATURE.
Mother nature’s songs I cannot exceed
Of the Whippoorwill out in open field
They partake of mother’s bliss free of greed
Birds and their songs give of mother’s free will
Meadowlark songs of many are preferred
Though Scissortail flycatchers slice thin air
I favor Mocking bird of which I’ve heard
He sings all bird songs, I desire to sire
Mocking bird songs do surge with bird’s great urge
Whip-her-Will, he sings at night on the hill
Of Mocking bird songs , be of which I splurge
Awesome flight as dotted blades of windmill
Nature, birds and songs to springtime belongs
Nature’s spring refreshes men with bird songs
First Contest: Sonnet Me
In honor of: Sara Kendrick
#1) abab, cdcd, efef, gg
.
The Mocking Bird Sat
Quizzically looking in...
Broken drained bird bath
(My bird bath is
broken..The
Mocking Bird
sat on the rim
looking at me
in the kitchen
like he was
asking me
what is wrong here.)
On the ground, stark still
The child immobile stared, saw
Its dead broken will
*
Songless feathers cold
Limping back from shivered tears
The bird speechless too
*
One bird flies no more
Death disshevelled to it clings
Like a silent heart
*
Each dying makes dust
Dust the silence of the song
Dust, death of a bird
*
No post mortem whys
Knowledge sorrows has no cure
Death cloud us with sighs
*
One tear glistened then
The mother tugged her away
Heart beating like wings
*
Dead before the church
In coldness, nothing flies now
In the silent skies
*
Hangs still the clod cloud
Air in air, a frozen will
Like a dead bird - falls
*
Inexorable
The mortal thread dangling dust
To featherless wings
*
A bird's desire fled
To this feathered crumbled heap
Shall I trust to sleep?
On a gentle flowing lake
Beneath the skies of spring
The waters of the lake are graced
By a bird so awe inspiring
Feathers of virgin white
Their plumage in regal show
So majestic in their stance
Upon the waters glow
This bird so proud and beautiful
So elegant in their display
Treasured royalty of nature
The swans on the lake that day
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature-8.php
A bird is visiting my yard
One that I have never seen before
Eating from the ground so vigorously
Pecking like a Sandpiper or a Woodpecker
That pecks on a tree
Looks like a Woodpecker
But not exactly and there are really four
I suppose there could be more
He has the ladder back
On his back, and a long strong thick beak
A red spot below his head
On the top of his back its said
His upper chest or top of the breast
A half moon as dark as night
Accented on the bottom half by mostly white
He works and works pecking the ground
Why he almost wears me down
Now he's joined by a goldfinch
Of such a brilliant hue
A male Bluebird eats undistrubed too
When the mystery bird takes
To flight on his tail there is a spot of white
I could watch him all the day
But responsibility calls me away
(My daughter said her husband said that it is a Northern Flicker and I looked it up and the
pictures of the Northern Flicker match what I am seeing.)
Broken pieces laying on ground,
Her bones are broken, no sound.
Lightning hits, the tree splits;
It lays on the ground. Two bulky
Men with big, black bands, hold it.
Together, they strap them around.
Little bird falls from sharp tree.
Poor, small birdy's on cold dirt.
With broken wings, it is not free.
It does not make a sound. The girl
Who fell down far, finds her peace.
Gather warm, calming weather gets
Tree. Will be grandiose once again.
No more does a day rage. No longer
Is a pure, white bird in guilded cage.
Flying gracefully above
the city
A white bird rises
high on a gust of wind
Passing through clouds
Looking down upon the verdant
earth
she heads homeward where
her chicks await her return
The sun again upon her wings
as she passes over land and sea
She is the very soul of freedom
Day morphs into night
But she continues to soar
Peering down upon the land
She espies her nest
This bird is a powerful symbol
Of freedom, of faith, of all
who travel through the open skies
Diving swiftly
She is home once more
A bird can soar by nature
if wings were clipped
he would still be a bird
or would he.
limited to "opposite his instincts"
he would become ashamed
if he knew what was expected
Grounded.
When our wings are clipped we
are labled and segregated
not human by category
something else, something pitiful.
Looked upon as less of a whole by appearance
No empathy, no sympathy, just disgust
and the Poster-human of what never to become,
a bird that can't fly.
Fly like an Eagle
Soaring so high
On thermal winds
On the open sky
Pride in their glide
Awesome in pose
Downward wings
Upward flows
The elegant Eagle
Feathered in brown
Spanned for flight
A bird so right
To stand below
And look above
This bird of birds
I've grown to love.
How quickly the earth forgets
all that the sun has said today
As daylight bows out gracefully
dwindling soon to silence
hush now, .....
let's listen to what the night will say
Listen closely ....stars are whispering
It is all about sleeping...
all about flowers folding for repose...
all about bird heads tucked under bird wings:
and dreams that walk silently after eyes close
shhhh....
All night in woeful tones
From some wilderness in a tree
A bird in solitude groans
With days outrageous memory
It's spring, O, O, it's spring
But the invisible bird little cares
Ice is in its heart, the wing
Of starry skies is ever unawares
No mating call is pain
So deep, no purposeless distress
Perhaps the birds complain
Ask to save sole habitat and nest
The cries is to creatures all
Against man's need to destroy and posesses
Each day the oak trees fall
Blinds us blundering into cold barreness.
Nature is a living thing
An organic part of us. The little bird
Sings, broken in heart and wing
An elegy for tomorrow here interred.
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
Little bird in the nest,
had to fly, had to test.
Feathers all grown,
has to make it all alone.
Wings spread out,
he knows what it's about.
Sours through the sky,
so very high.
Little bird first flight,
and now he's out of sight.
wrote 9-1-08
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