Roosted Poems | Examples

The Starling

When I was small
the starlings roosted one by one
on grandma’s party line wire
	(like jittery black clothespins)
to bandy their gossip back and forth
until the wire hummed
with their inanities.

By luck my slingshot found its mark.
One toppled from the wire soundlessly
like a clothespin blown loose in the wind.
The others rattled on, oblivious,
no questions asked.

It dropped straight down.
I ran to see where it had fallen
	(headlong into the trash)
expecting it to be stunned only
and I would laugh as it flew off.

There, 
between a flattened can of Campbell soup
and a Brillo pad used up,
and bleeding from one empty eye
the still warm bundle of feathers
looked ready for flight.
	(so fly!)
But when it did not spread its wings
or chatter any more
I cradled death in my hands
	(soft and almost weightless)
and cried 
as I buried both victim and weapon
in the same box.

Oh, How We Fell

Ancient howling came back to Earth
  And before long more species followed
  Some contested against this unnatural birth
  But no one could deny it’s monetary worth
  Then after a little - our world was swallowed
  
  Even though we lacked a time machine
  We ended back up in the Pliocene
  Then we fell
  We fell down and down
  Further down the chain
  The more scientists screwed with the current domain

  Some of us reverted back as well
  Gathering and hunting, because our old-new world fell
  Some would live and some would die
  Kids were taken and mothers cried
  The ones in white coats were mostly taken first
  They were the ones who unleashed the curse

  Cities got taken by giant birds
  They roosted atop the buildings we built
  Everywhere you went, a sound could be heard
  The sound of blood being spilt
  Predators and their megafauna prey
  Against each other make the worst sound I’ve heard to this day
  But at least it’ll keep them fed
  Sometimes that sound made me sleep more soundly in my bed
  
  Oh how the tables turn
  And how we turned them till the world burned

Two Doves: a 55 word story

A widower once had a spring visitor,  a dove with no mate. It roosted in a tree near where the old man often sat. It cooed to him.

One day the man's daughter looked for him, he was gone. She was startled by the sudden flight of two doves.

The old man was never found.

Hither and Bither Smither and Bob

blue irds roosted on the top of the moon
Listening to the good witch as she gave a croon
Her two magical mystical familiars sitting still as bats
Which is not so unusual for these ebony cats

What is she doing? one bird asked the other.
He never guesses first, wants this to be his brother.
Shh! The other bluebird hissed, watching carefully.
The good witch began to chant and pour elixir with glee.

Hither and Bither, Smither and Bob.
This magic elixir should well do the job.
This polluted brook should be as good as new.
Thriving on fresh water and love in a day or two.

Pouring health and goodness into the brook
She then gave the moon a wink, and quickly off-shook.
Her familiars followed her to the next polluted lagoon.
And the sky retrieved the light of the crescent moon.

Himbuggles and Shimbuggles, what is this I see?
The chanting continued from the good witch Carolyn Lee.
Giggles and Gaggles, I need more goodness to pour.
So I can next give this lagoon a marvelous restore.

Poetic Mouses Dilemma

poetic mouse channeled Coleridge
no one noticed
he channeled Poe
Ravens roosted next to his missive
unfortunately,
his muse Thoreau
would not let him
beat them off with a broom

Gray Versus White

The pigeons and seagulls were having a fight.
(Reporters might call it the “Gray versus White.”)
Lined up on the railing, awaiting some food,
There seemed to be tension, an ominous mood.

Since in that location, for year after year,
The pigeons have roosted; they’ve made their career
Of circling over the benches to wait
For the lady who feeds them, a sunrise-time date.

But lately, the seagulls have gotten the word
Of this ritual, squawked and relayed bird to bird,
So the railing’s been crowded as it’s ever been
With the early morn quiet disturbed by the din.

The fight wasn’t physical; no feathers flew,
Though the circular flying meant double the poo.
As I passed on my walk, I just hoped that my luck
Would hold out or you might hear me yelling out – duck!

Pick a Pear

I went to the orchard to pick a pear.
I picked another so I’d have a pair.
But now their skins I’d have to pare.

One was all I had gone there for
but soon I had a basket with four.
For room, I moved them to the fore.

It got late and I had quite the load.
The hens roosted and the cattle lowed.
As I was leaving, I hit the Mother lode!

Well, now I had enough pears to sell.
Maybe I could even have a pear sale
or send them overseas by para sail.

Okay, I’m finished with my tall tale.
Oh, and about your day, please do tell!
I’m outta here – I’m draggin’ my tail.

Happy Birthday Dad

Happy birthday to you
You haggard old hand
You've age like a goose egg
in spots of your brand

And roosted so easy
in eggs come out right
When your children are spotting
your colors to right

And you're father for honor
of color and blight
Where together your sharing
what love is to sight

And we wish you your birthday
be happy for dad
When your wish is in giving
us birthday shared fad

Bliss2

Unclad tree craved bliss, the busiest birds roosted

Sky Tree

A long time ago was a place of tranquillity;
The garden of Eden, where everything had harmony.

Peace filled the air with creatures great and small;
Even the plants and trees grew extremely tall.

There was a tree that grew very high;
With many branches bearing fruit in the sky.

There were branches of silver and gold;
Mysterious fruit of the moon and stars untold.

In the tree was the god of the air;
The serpent or dragon roosted there.

It is said that this fruit comes 13 times a year;
If eaten, one receives knowledge good and evil to hear.

Like an apple, the fruit cut in half looked appealing to the eye;
A 5 pointed star of the four creation elements and one more to try.

The Sun Comes Out

This is written by a 12 year old student. Please comment kindly. I am the teacher.

The sun comes out in the morning.
The moon comes out at night.
The roosters rise at dawn.
The wolves wake at dusk.
The roosted wake the farmers.
The wolves hunt the roosters.
The farmers hunt the wolves.
The government hunts the farmers.
The farmers rebel.
The government is overthrown.
The people rule the country.
The people watch the country crumble.
The government tries to rebuild.
The government fails.
The enemy swoops in like an eagle.
The enemy takes over the country.
The enemy, is Canada.

samanthas tree

sammy scampered up a tree

to see what she might see

so far she boosted

an old owl roosted

on sams precarious knee.

Bird of Hope

Crawling through the dirt trying to get back to my perch, 
where I once sang so free and acted happily 
in the sunshine of my life things were really going well.

A fall from broken wings, I fell into the dust, 
choking there at first waiting for your help. 
But wait was all I did whilst no assistance came my way.

For months I struggled on, surviving day to day, 
too proud to beg and borrow I scavenged like a dog. 
But soon I found the strength to crawl out from the gutter.

I fought for life, to thrive, avoiding vices in my way 
and built a ladder to help me from the pit I'd fallen in. 
Now I'm back upon a higher perch than I've ever roosted on.

I'm now singing of success, not striving to get by 
and feeling so much stronger for my time down in the dumps. 
But for those I met, still there, I save a little prayer.

Coffee House Contest

As morning arises and grogginess continues to overtake
The smell of something brewing suddenly helps one to awake
Stumbling Down the stairs with eyes sunk low
A Sweet aroma lets each subject know
That sips of glory are just about to be there
The tortuous suddenly becomes the hare
Black with sugar some days cream
A symbol of the American dream
Oh how the warmth flowing down ones slide
Quickly sparks a mental drive
Cup half-filled than a cup filled to the top
The day starts off with this essential stop
To the kitchen with excitement at hand
Only a true coffee drinker would understand
Roosted beans with a variety of flavors to fit each soul
Charged and ready the consumers  goal
The king of the castle
The queen of the pot
I pity the person who goes shopping Sunday and Monday morning realizes what they forgot,
So thank you God for roosted plants that deliver stimulation,
And early morning motivation,
A College student’s dearest friend,
For once you start drinking coffee you’re never going to want it to end.


written by:sabina nicole

If Trees Could Talk

I wonder if the trees could talk
Would they tell about the breeze?
Would they talk about the sunshine?
Or of their many different leaves?

Would they talk about that woodpecker
That's roosted on their limb?
Or maybe device a brilliant plan
To rid themselves of him

Would they tell us of their thirst?
And celebrate the rain
Would they talk about their fear of fire?
And how they hate the flame

Would they talk about the winter?
And how it robs them of their shields
As the winter winds scatter their leaves
Across the barren fields

Would they talk about the summer heat?
And the sacrifices they've made
As they hold their limbs high and stong
To cast our needed shade

Would they talk about their Creator?
Who rules from Heaven above
And profess undying gratitude
And never ending love

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