Short Warbles Poems

The dead mocking bird still 
Warbles, thru nature’s lips...

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nightingale warbles

of sad tales and serenades,

as he walks away...

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yellow canary
	warbles to the lure of love ~
		youthful dreams return...

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Willow on your words
Warbles with the teen warbler 
Welkin welcomes heart

23.06.2020 Chattogram...

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Birds revel on shimmy petals
Fervid wings stretching over sepals
Thistles on the other side, live in deep purples
Whistles of portals imbued by warbles...

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By the twilight of the uncaring moon, the
Nightingale warbles a haunting tune,
as I stare blankly at the merciless moon
hoping to death that it's grip takes me soon.
And as all that I wrought lies in ungodly ruin,
the Nightingale warbles a tune....

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Wanton and wild she whispers wizened
So delectably opaque she surrenders sated
Her fledgeling mind warbles tremblingly unblind
So altruistic so soothingly defined
Coloured adornment flames brilliantly in heat
So trembling and trying she walks until him she meets...

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Happy pelican
eating an enormous fish
see his pouch bulging

Merry kingfisher
waiting on his pole for fish
he darts and spears one

Full of joy and fun
the skylark warbles in glee
delight in each note

Fearsome eagle drops
plummeting down like a stone
striking hard he kills...

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The fat sonbird WARBLES a love song 
as it sits aside 
a GURGLING brook that SPLASHES 
shards of sunlight into the trees 

who MURMUR their intimacies 
to each other 
as the splintered door of a nearby shed 
SLAMS shut in the wind. 

The noon bell RINGS.

November 13, 2021...

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self-confident sunflowers
glorified next to a weathered fence
Kansas in summer

gold finch lights
taking a breath
warbles a heartfelt song

wild flowers sway to his trill
tractor sounds in the distance
meadow dances

plowed field begs for rain
fox stops by briefly
Kansas in summer...

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Looking though
the looking- glass
peering, wondering
when will this end?
Duplicates swirling without hindering
my imagination
the colors, fox trotting
across my eyes
When the mountains laugh
their belated laugh
and when the birds cry
their distressing warbles
will the looking- glass mystery
ever
end?...

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Since a child, I loved the sparrows in mother's garden,
those gregarious brown birds . . . singing together; 
in chirps, warbles and thrills morn', day, evening ! 
I would laugh at their dust and water baths, and how,
they gather in clumps on branches and flock to eat seeds-
I asked father, can we make nesting boxes please ?...

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They found my neighbor today
sitting in his chair, seeping
into the fabric. The smell-
rancid fat, a tallowy 
rind of meat. 

The cleaners take days.
Boy George warbles
through the walls. 
Buckets sloshed
and carted to the halls.

No one collects his things.
No one cries.
A ten word
obituary:

Mr. Campbell died
and all anyone noticed
was the 
smell....

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Stan Laurel
thinks he can sing in reality he warbles
His best buddy Hardy slaps him quiet
Before he can start another riot.

Oliver Hardy
Is usually farty so he abstains from drink
Gormless Laurel slurps Manhattans all night
Warbling and singing without stage fright.


Clerihew 2 
Poetry Contest
Enter Contest
Sponsored
by
Joseph May
30/09/2021...

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under southern skies
chitlins fry corn pones cooking
then molasses pie

trees still drip from rain
summer breeze wanders on by
man in moon smiling

guitar and a uke
play songs we all try to sing
warbles in the night

watching the stars fly
little ones sleep on blankets
too happy to cry

pleasant can't get much better
night whispers its surrender

May 10, 2023
for "Haiku Sonnet Poetry Contest"
by Joanna Daniel...

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The warbles of Rapture reverberate at the edges of me and of you
Mixing, melding, and compounding the essential with the abused
While truly losing what differs and brightens the things that make move

Blackened, bloated corpses stood on foot like clustered trees in copses
Arms that dangle, 
Holding rotten fruit
With visions of ravens and vultures
Pecking
Pecking
Pecking
Pecking to allow the sweet release
That sweet and welcomed black...

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Springs in the air, can’t you smell it?
To me the scent can’t be explained
So it makes no sense in trying.
All I know is springs on its way.
Whenever that familiar scent
Arouses these nostrils of mine
It automatically triggers
A colorful, dreamlike collage
In my anticipating mind;
Muted and inanimate till
The first robin redbreast warbles
Its early morning springtime song.
So, in the meantime, I languor
In this feeling called spring fever....

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The coda of mourning jays vibrates
In bittersweet tracks when daybreak scans
An almost whipping backdrop, hushed
By low warbles from birds’ paean;
Indistinct as dusty sketches—
Throaty on a lane of funeral’s last rites;
Where the hazily drawn view turns bland
Moistening wail of eyes with a muted song,
Tunes stale, while jays drone on the horizon.



Mixed Senses Contest for nette onclaud
20 Sept 2015
From Amelie Mara ---Music  in  9 lines...

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high in a forest tree
a little songster listens
and answers with phrases
with chatters, twitters, warbles
the little bird hops along a branch
hidden in a green canopy of leaves
singing a song that drifts and dips echoing _

_____________________
April 15, 2020


Poetry/Verse/song bird
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1244-072-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France


For the contest, Strand No 730 Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand

Honorable Mention...

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