Plover Poems | Examples

Crocodile Symbiosis

The crocodile smile is such a pretty sight
as the Egyptian Plover keeps his teeth
pearly white and shiny bright
"Open wide," are words heard from the bird
his dental hygienist who picks and pecks
then eats the meaty spicks and specks
and as the crocodile sheds old choppers
(no tears)
so the avian's not unemployed or at a loss
the croc constantly grows new gnashers
for his new-found feathered friend to floss

Dawn Pond

Brackish lichen forms a raft upon the pond,
a low haze floats like a moored airship.
Small frogs chirrup sotto-voce
as if they were
dreaming sparrows.

Water birds dabble in their sleep.
Soon the sun
will dash across a drop of dew
bursting dams of light.

A fisherman in his truck
drinks his coffee,
rubs his eyes and smacks his lips.
He grabs rod and tackle,
hopes fat fish are lazily
rising.

Feathers shake off waterlogged shadows,
wings slap the groggy face of the pond,
ripples splash up
to rinse the air.

Coots and Plover call
until the water
awakes.

Red Rover

A distraught driver drove to Dover
Running roughshod in his Rover,
Crushing cultivated clover,
Mangling marigolds, moreover,
Pancaking progeny of plover.
Liquor-laden lies to lover;
Outcome: outed, ousted, over.

Wildlife 31

Wildlife 31

An terribly nosey young plover,
Thought of things that he'd like to discover,
So he sat on the shore,
'Til his butt was quite sore,
Then decided "I don't 'fink I'll bovver!'

Proud Dad Bird

Sprinting stick legs carry my midday mission 
Stiff breeze whips sand, removes thin prints
Bringing crammed crab, grabbed in precision 
Urgent payps brief cease brings peace distinct

Assembled nest, scattered pebbles and shells
Ginger plumage scurrier is ever alert mother
Concaves place, away from encroaching swells
Secure dunes' hush is sanctity discovered

In salt hazed mauve dusk, we pace wary guard
Time arrived for tawny fluff puffs to be shown
Harsh beach to danger prone, threat imparted
Leaving nest safety is necessary, wider zones

Buffeted by their new found brilliance, babies float
Skimmed surface of sand, brisk, excited, whisked
Proud Daddy plover observes with deserved gloat
Dedicated duty rewards during moments like this


Written:      25th July 2020
Contest:    Bird Personification 
Sponsor:   Tania Kitchin

Ponder

Elephantine
Slow motion measures
out of time
in pace
Great go-between
grows notions
in lines 
and space
Eglantine
embows fragrant pleasure
springtime's
embrace
Mezzanine
bon mot for half measure
lying low
in place
Intervene
plover distraction
displeasure
paradigm
about face
Serene
glow sensate pleasure
time felt
with grace


Written 16 May 2020
posted 19 July 2020

''Eglantine'' - a wild rose.

Lean Harvests

Lean Harvests
by Michael R. Burch

for T.M.

the trees are shedding their leaves again:
another summer is over.
the Christians are praising their Maker again,
but not the disconsolate plover:
i hear him berate
the fate
of his mate;
he claims God is no body’s lover.

Published by The Rotary Dial and Angle

Keywords/Tags: Christian, Christians, Christianity, Hymn, Hymns, Praise, Worship, Faith, Belief, Believer, Believers, God, Jesus Christ, Maker, Creator, Almighty, Summer, Trees, Autumn, Fall, Leaves, Skeptic, Atheist, Agnostic, Nonbeliever, Heretic, Death, Grave, Grief, Despair

Plover Dance

Piping Plovers run
receding surf yields food
ballet on wet sand

Bookstore, Musty Galore

Bookstore, Musty Galore
Allen's Old Gold Discover,
SecondStory Pages of Glory,
Kelmscott Shelves Soar & Hover,
1st Editions Scarce Recovery,
Fore Edge Paintings Lover,
However It's Cheapo Papery,
Provides a Comfy Nest Plover,
Finding Fresh Author Flesh Scary!
Going Broke Buying A Great Cover,
I'm Not Waiting 'til Old & Hairy,
Grazing Tomes is Similar to Clover,
Diet As Extant Goodreads is Nary!

Awaiting a Smile

He sits alone, still and wondering
as the cascading wind cleanses his soul.
His mind it does pause, as he looks out yonder,
and muses about life's role.

Unsure I am of how he sees the world,
alone in this tranquil space,
a mosaic of colour, 
among the foliage of flowering lace.

Life enters his zone, on a wing of grace,
as he considers each name in the debate,
The Robin, the Wren, the Plover, the Lark,
his mind does elevate.

The soothing, the serene, the space opposing the park
adds a view an emerald blanket, as he stares out through the dark.

Size Matters

piping plover
brazenly strutting their stuff
along closed beaches


John G. Lawless
©8/13/2018

Memento Mori

(In the Middle Ages, tombs and monuments
often bore carvings of skulls or decaying corpses.
The idea was to remind the onlooker that he, too,
was marked for death.  These figures were known
as "memento mori".)

Approach me, stranger. Nothing in my story 
should startle you. Your flesh has always known it. 
I just remind you. I'm Memento Mori. 

Yes, this is what awaits you. Don't disown it. 
You came in laughing, vital, carefree, easy, 
but now your peace is ruined. Go, bemoan it, 

and when your Pinot Grigio, risi e bisi 
no longer please your palate, and your lover, 
so far from comforting you, makes you queasy, 

think hard. There's more to life than quail and plover. 
Many things may never happen. This one must. 
There's less to life than hope, as you'll discover. 

For what you are now, that's what I once was. See? 
See what I am? It's what you're going to be.

Death Tolls

The atmosphere rings with the bell like calls
of the plover flock, long before they are spotted.
The flight herringbones a grey fedora sky.
Markings of white and coal black weave,
wing-stitched, a blanket maker’s dream.

Sigh makers 	they close on the beach 
at high tide, the horizon shivers      the
sand blanches. These ravishing scavengers
light on the tattered edge of wet to dry,
dawdling with the dead.

Plovers are diminutive scroungers, one-legged
dancers, hopping to the pull of tide, dining on
crab-eggs in black-tie and feathered tails, their
gray skull caps lined with a black brow. 
Sparrow-small birds dress to the nines. 
 
A feast for the birds, fall crisps, crab moltings,
go on for endless miles. September is beginning
and soon winged ones will fly to sunny shores.
The cold Atlantic will moan for the loss of music,
the unstitched sky will part. The avian choir is off 
to the mud flats of Carolina. 


First Published Eunoia Review January 2015

Limerick Fair

PETER'S SON PETERSON                        

                                 Peter’s son was rowdy Peterson
                               He met plug-ugly drug lord Dawson
                                         In a raucous party
                                       Came in "Bliss"ful Dirty
                              And tipped Dawson off about Lawson


                                        SCOTTISH Mr BRIAN
                  Scottish Mr.Brian came from the country of Shamrock
                        Found a plover under cover of a clover rock
                                Plover clover screeched a little
                                   And sat on a hefty skittle
                 Both fitted the bill as the pinball struck a cock-squawk











© Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
15 October, 2014  21:55:43 IST

D Street and Mayne

D street daydreams,

watered down time,
diluted with a soured lime,

streaming like faces,
caught in tour bus windows,
shading eyes from mid day light,

a winking glint on distant water,

faint gulls cry winging over,
far off sand dunes like snowy plover,

wind blown hinting,
salt and sea,
as laughter floats formless,

flotsam on warm custard breezes,

sunlit sound of summers,
backlit like animated mummers,

captured in an iced tea lemon,
told on a melting sno-cone,
thrashed with an elephant's ear,

boardwalk dusk fallow,

shadows flow down to barnacled piling,
tidal flow pounding rhythmically beguiling,

captured moths in a porchlight,
buzzing backbeat arc lamps,
forms flit on a sultry street,

walking stilted looking back,

the grinding rasp of memory's regret,
those fog bound wraiths that never forget,

a young time touched by a different sun,
warm sand hourglass that couldn't run out, 
west coast jubilee could never end...

it ends...

at the corner of D street and Mayne.

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