The young wide-eyed owlet was almost too cold to hoot
He sat in the crook of the oak, looking at his left boot
He needs a little cap, I will knit him the farmer’s wife said.
Okay agreed her husband, but please do not make it red.
If it is red he might be mistaken for a buzzard and hurt or worse.
His wife ran to get her car keys, her i.d. and her new purse.
Where are you going? I thought you had yarn already.
If I am going to create, I want his hat brand new, Freddy.
Her husband Fred knew enough to back off when she called him Freddy.
A sign that she means business since they first started going steady.
The next day she fitted the owlet way up high in the sycamore tree.
Good grief! Said her farmer husband, he looks comfier than me!
Categories:
owlet, bird,
Form: Rhyme
The visceral pains were sharp, stinging and stern!
She swallowed them, in the bloody biting bitterness.
The gory talons of the fat obstetricians hung loose,
Ready to clamour for the afterbirth, salivating like hungry female canines.
“Think of the baby,” said the stony-hearted, vampire-looking hag;
Whose fat mouth dripped blood.
Back home, a shrieking owlet flew over her husband’s hut.
A strange whirlwind shot through the door, and tore the roof atwain.
The news broke: she had gone mortis gestationalis!
The evil child had popped out his left leg first, in protest;
And had strangled mama with its hands - from inside!
It was not about the flat-tyred ambulance.
The drunken doctor,
Who stored his equipment at Mama Phina’s bar, was not to blame.
Neither was it about the theft of sanitisers and lignocaine,
Nor was it about the leaking roofs;
And the stench all around.
It was the craving for sweet blood and tender baby flesh!
William Smelly lay snug in his grave,
As we lowered the two caskets to their final resting place.
One carried a dysfunctional human factory,
And the other was empty.
Categories:
owlet, africa, corruption, death, health,
Form: Free verse
Spring the magical season of natural splendour,
It's glory brightens and blooms every life,
Birds chirp in meadows and call for their mates;
The tap-tap of the woodpeckers,
And their courtship dances,
Welcome the mating season in cheer.
The bold Ashy prinia with perky tail
Found in thickets, the jungle mynahs
Seen in noisy groups at sunset,
The spotted owlet with a hooting sound,
Seen in banyan and peepal trees,
Are sights of delight after a dreary winter.
The white-browed wagtail,
Scurrying in open spaces wagging its tail,
The pond heron with its yellow eyes,
And the Asian koel singing kik kik,
His mate too joining, singing kuoo kuoo,
Create a symphony of magical melody.
Date: 02/26/2021
Submitted for: Spring Birds Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Categories:
owlet, bird, spring,
Form: Free verse
Bird liberty
A bird flies toward her two friends
resting on a tree,
They are so glad to see her,
It is quite long since we have seen you, they said
Yes, I flew off a cage
a few minute ago
I have been trapped for weeks
Some men are so cruel
They don’t consider we are
all creations, I went a farm to fed my belly, there I was trap
They took me home for rearing
They fed me once a day
They hung my cage on a branch of tree
From morning till evening
They returned at work
Instead them to feeding me as they return
They would play with me for a while
Before morning my bones would
be weary, trembling like a day owlet
a boy came to my cage this evening
in fact he was my angel, he mistakenly
opened the cage, that was I how I flew off the cage
I got my liberty back
Categories:
owlet, abuse, allegory, angel, anger,
Form: Free verse
Nocturnal creature signals calm
A tender night that's sure to bring,
The rising scent of dew-laced balm
Where Eagle Owl reels on a swing .
I listen how it yelps again
Through silhouettes of moonlit trees;
From leafy spades along the lane
To pivot ‘round in looped trapeze.
Eyes ebon guard the sky homeward,
Breaking the dark with hushed effect
In changing flight, more than a bird
As feathers sweep like ruffles flexed.
A sight that in my mind I lock
Till night unwraps light dusky shawl,
While I am charmed by whispered gawk
Sweet owlet trills, pervading all.
November Standard Contest, Brian Strand
Categories:
owlet, bird, uplifting,
Form: Quatrain
If I could Harken to thee, a sonnet,
of loves most great desires,
the mere utterance, would warm thine ears
as the soft crackles of lusts fires
The ambiance, of shadows dance
across the Scottish tapestry,
Muses, light footed, pirouetting
my symphony, my love for thee
Fairest is thy silken mane
of the finest Irish Auburn,
brilliant as a cool autumn day
as the leaves of the maple turn
The tower bells, they toll for thee
as pale moon, illuminates the night
hark, the far cry, my dearest dove
of the owlet, so yearning flight
The petals of the Royal Rose
silken soft, compared to thy blushing skin,
or the Emerald glow, of thine own eyes
alit, passion, kindled from within
Mine own heart, burns with ever fire
that, which only thee, can conquer,
Conquer thee not, my dearest dove
for our love, forever, must endure
Harken to me my dearest Dove
sweet sonnets, from silken lips,
for I know thou shall be to me
as close as my finger tips.
Categories:
owlet, dedication, love, passionautumn,
Form: Rhyme
He was very thin, half naked, one arm
broken, glasses cracked.
Early morning an owlet will land over its head
And give a long hoot.
The bleary eyes will look down non-chalantly
on browsing goats at its feet. I will see a twinkle
in the eyes.
A cave man, or Buddha! I loved your brazenness
cat walking alone on the spiky path of truth,
drinking goat’s milk and raising cotyledons
of guiltless faith.
Post-traumatic, I squeeze your feet.
Any reincarnation in future? Any divine intervention?
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
owlet, adventure, allegory, angst, animals,
Form: I do not know?