nightingle warbles…
gliding on its tufted veil
to serenade trees
~
from huff puff of wind
songbird tweets fancier tunes ...
in autumnal dance
The tapestry of onyx blanket spreads
with satin darkness of the fluid night.
Lush thicket weaves the moonshine lattice
on the glistened trees for the nightingale
flying on the crescendo of its own melody.
The passion bird sings soft with enticing echo
of the un-stringed tunes of love and joy,
the music of the sequined nocturnal niche.
The drizzling stardust dances on its wings,
fluttering with the rhythm of avian delight.
Oh nightingale,
you rise like a small anointing in the dusk,
your voice a trilling psalm of love and lament.
You carry the mystique of prayer on your wings,
a feathered liturgy drifting toward the listening sky.
Oh nightingale,
you sing from the chalice of stillness where God whispers,
your syrinx a cipher of creation teaching silence to awaken.
You carry ancient wisdom in your throat,
a feathered oracle scripting prophecy on the wind.
How the woodland creatures would adore
a sound they'd never heard before
as they gathered gladly on the glade
to hear him as with his voice he played,
eschewing the dry diatonic scale -
the microtonal nightingale.
Earth a nurturing breast
richly filled with delightful sensory pleasures
at behest
sights, tastes, touch, smell
hear singing nightingale treasures
life’s swell
swimming
ocean leisures
spring
Earth a nurturing breast
hear singing nightingale treasures
spring
————————————
Placed : 6th / Premier Contest
April 26 : Sponsor: Mohan Chutani
Express Through Compression Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
3/10/2026
Nightingale - Compression Poem
morning darkness
I hold her feather
in my city's dead breath
walking on muddy streets
her song heard somewhere
sweet where rain's left
nightingale tune
upon steeple limb
in cool of summer swoon
up, down, up, down dance in
scarlet gauzy light...
lull waxing moon
the lonely strains
like a haunted dream,
so many sad refrains
left...to drift in the wind,
now memory-born
tears when it rains...
written March 10/26
for Nette Onclaud's Compression Contest
breaking the ice
of eerie silence
to make its mate entice
jargons on and on from
the shrouded bower
is truly nice
Place: 2 nd
Night voice
In dark woods
Your song crosses night
A star within the mist
My heart listens
Pure night
nightingales sing
mostly through the night
many phrases they bring
with long range and power
inspiring tunes
which poets cling
Passing through the fields of Punjab,
sitting behind my father on a bike,
a sensation rose in me
at the call of a Ruston engine
breathing from a mud-bricked room.
Its call sounded as if from another world,
which touched my heart
and settled there forever—
one of the most unforgettable moments
of my life.
When I grew older,
I wandered from village to village
just to hear that iron nightingale
singing in the dawns of rural Punjab.
In my wanderings I discovered
that at night its echo,
deep in the quiet fields,
was like a spotted owlet
resting in the dark.
Now its music grows rare.
But whenever it reaches my ears,
the fields return—
golden crops bending in the wind,
silver canals under the sky,
and a little boy on a moving bike
holding his father
as the villages pass.
Comfort* prevails
since Mom’s lullaby
lingers and never fails
like nightingale that cheers
with God's melodic
bliss as life sails.
*2Corinthians 1:3-4 Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.
March 6, 2026
3rd place, "EXPRESS THROUGH COMPRESSION" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud; judged on 3/13/2026
Branch-hugging cry,
Ancient, mournful tale,
Underneath the large sky,
Soul-filled singing, brown bird,
Pouring forth its heart,
Never to die.
Moon mounts up high,
passion bird sings soft.
Stringed love and pain tunes tie
in heart’s nocturnal niche.
Darkness echoes thrill
through silver sky.
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