Twittering Poems | Examples

creatures of the night

trilling twittering
cicadas frogs or song birds
creatures of the night

Fairies And Fairy Dust

From her delicate wings a fine powder exudes and lands on the ground 
by the light of the blue harvest moon a touch of Pixie Dust, in nimble magic ! 
Harmonious weaving, intangible strands of music coming from the sphere 
sweet and beautiful arias, melodious twittering from a fairy wing's enfold

Wings not made of  nylon, cellophane nor iridescent tulle but made of silk
like spider's webs tough and resilient from the Master Spinners pedipalps 
Appendage wings made from embryonic liquid from ejected Neutron Stars 
like butterflies they flit and fly through air currents, landing on little twigs; 

Fairy dust of old as ancient as the parallels from this world to the next 
dare say I, ... if ever you have been subjected to their fairy dust appeal  
then flying limbs you shall receive and like it or not you will fly away  
inside a land of pure magic where every thought is like a sweet reveal 

From her delicate hand a sweep of the wand resting easy on your shoulder,    
one single dose is feathered on you and suddenly, you are able to hold her !

could barely be relaxed

If I was any more relaxed, I would be melting
others are scrambling today
there are graduations all over the state
I am sitting in the shade with my two dogs
there is a bee overhead, she appears to be black
probably because I am staring into the sun
I keep seeing her fat shadow

In the distance I hear a twittering robin
If I felt like struggling, I could hear a truck or car
the guy next door just dropped something big
It must have been substantial, sounded like a two by four

This is the country
Our houses are three football fields apart
there is a whistle type whoop
another songbird
answering chirp
these fowl may be plotting my death
but I am too relaxed to care

A Search for Love

Love is found when least expected.  …  by poet

Rudolph was strolling along a winding countryside lane, 
humming a love tune.  The clear sky shone bright, and merrily
bright birds were twittering as they flew from tree to tree, 
whilst a brook was bubbling as it wended its way 
to a river that flowed nearby. Still Rudolph was dejected.  
Love, alas, had passed him by. Nature failed to attract him.

Despite his meanderings around the surrounding countryside, 
he had not found his soul mate to make his life complete.  
He was particular in his requirements, seeking perfection.
 
Suddenly, he took a different path towards the wide river.
There sitting under a willow tree, strumming a guitar
Rudolph saw the most beautiful woman of his life
Her eyes were closed, but Rudolph instinctively knew 
they would be verdant like the grass she was squatting on.  
Her golden tresses fell in gentle curls, her red lips inviting.
Could he have found his angel on earth?

Placed 1

The Month of May

Birds in the cherry trees twittering their song
Big fat bumblebees hum merrily along
Crickets in the hedgerows chirping all together
A perfect day in the month of May
With perfect springtime weather.

Dawn Collapses Night

Dawn collapses night; the stars disappear;
the crickets fall silent, and Sol rises.
And ebony bleeds with a scarlet smear,
as Nature dons one of many guises.

A sea of blue washes across the sky
as sunbeams color clouds a rosy pink.
And while dragonflies flex their wings to fly,
shadowy silhouettes silently shrink.

While twittering songbirds sing to the sun,
butterflies fly from flower to flower.
And on silken threads that a spider spun;
dewdrops gleam in the early morning hour.

With one turn of Earth’s planetary gear
Dawn collapses night; the stars disappear.

Flowers and Grave

Eyes are closed but souls are not yet
A wrap of white envelopes glow
Holding the four sides with a heavy toe
Darkness unbinds the weeping flow

A bed of dazzling flowers welcomes the white
Angels of love enchantingly bow
Birds twittering in the garden of glory
Daisy Dahlia and Camelia murmur to grow

The castle of fragrance invites the blossom
Fairies decorate the Garden of Grace
A white dove holding the innocent phrase
and the garden glitters as the beats become bitter

Tulip tweets and the lavender bushes
White dove with closed eyes flourishes flawlessly
Melodies of love welcome the innocent 
Hibiscus hoovers and azalea utters a holy blow

White covers the courageous color
Asking Petunia now about the awful overs 
Garden of Eden embraces integrity and futurity
The ritual ends with happiness and a glow.

Winter Chickadee

 

Outside my window lives a chickadee,
he loves snowy green pine,
and has a family of about twenty-three;
he loves the snow and falling snowflakes divine,
and each morning the whole family sing for me.

Sometimes they scatter on clamous whirling wings,
off to a park nearby,
my heart is sad for their songs are like violins;
then, the beat of their wild swirling wings multiply,
they have brought home many, many friends I sigh.

On warmer days I bring them some seeds,
I put the seeds on my hand,
and am always in awe with their fluttering speeds;
I love each created by God delicate painted band
helping the birds helps me to grow and transcend.

They huddle together when it is very cold,
at times they lift a foot,
I think God not only gave them beauty but a soul;
each morning I must go to my window to have a look
I find them twittering, and tweeting in a clamor bruit.

Multiple Entities

Be the flowers that can heal -
A heart of charity never to seal.
Be the moon in the lonely night - 
A dark cave looking bright. 
Be the sky blue, lucid and clear - 
A sea filled with love, a pure lover. 
Be the sun that can burn all instant,
But inside nodding a tiny plant. 
Be the star gleaming far to door - 
Can draw the way a parted sailor.
Be the words of birds twittering -
Promise the cures to bring. 
Be the cadence of a lyre -
Can feel the divinity far and near.
Be the morning still, and profound 
Begins a day festive and sound.
Be the listener to your heart -
As no distinction between God and art.

Prepare for take off

I’m totally transfixed 
I hold my breath 
Tiny fledgling spreads its wings

Twittering parents are watching anxiously
will baby bird fly
I’m totally transfixed

My neighbour’s cat
Is prowling, ready to pounce
I hold my breath

Mother squawks loudly
Danger is now averted
Tiny fledgling spreads its wings

Birds Will Sing

We all follow our destiny
A poet will write, what is right for thee
Whether chatterbox or Silent One

On our marks we are set
And follow fore ordained scripts
Since times beginning, begun

All birds shall take wing 
Compelled to sing, twittering
To God as to Man

It matters not who
They sing their song to
For all will understand

Doorstep birds sing 
Don't worry about a thing
Cause everything will all be alright

The sky will be blue
Under which nothing is new
And flocks will take graceful flight

Tall Skyscraper nests or
Empty Wilderness, 
Audience of Man, beast, or none

Birds will be Birds
And Birds will sing
Until God turns out the sun.

Sing A New Song

Psalms 96:1 (KJV) “O sing unto the LORD a new song: sing unto the LORD, all the earth.”

Seas of twittering,
Tweets, gentle as noon,
Melodious uprising from the nest.

Colors like wildfire, glowing hues,
Erasing the morning mist,
Seas of twittering.

Songbirds risking twilight,
Before fireflies reveal the music,
Tweets, gentle as noon.

Listening, songs climb
Into the morning skies,
Melodious uprising from the nest.

wildflower field

the stream is flowing
   and birds are twittering songs
a green field invites the sun
   where lovely wildflowers 
sway in a spring breeze
   under a perfect blue sky
and clouds sail by
                 as I rest . . . awhile

Winter Magic

 
"Snow loves the forest and trees that he kisses them, sweetly,
covering them in a white blanket, whispering, sleep my darlings."

                                         Based on a Lewis Carrol Quote


A white swan in the falling snow,
bright birds on the branches clinging;
small birds twittering in a row,
the winter trees full of singing.

The cold forest wrapped in stillness,
from tree to tree birds are winging;
an eagle calls with a shrillness,
the winter trees full of singing.

And the white snow falls on and on,
the birds shrilling like a bell ringing;
oh, such a divine winter dawn,
the winter trees full of singing.

A white swan in the falling snow,
the winter trees full of singing.

Silence In My Soul

I was wrong, terribly wrong.
I carried within me
memories of happenings
and rumours of fresh happenings,
that I soon realised
I'll never find peace until
In some profound eternity,
I can silence my soul.
 
Easier said than done.
For the mind continues delving
into the mysterious story of my life.
Grey clouds overhead
race each other, 
threatening thunder.
What strange chemicals do they hide?
I hear the lovely finches twittering.
Are they near extinction?
A hunter's shot: some uselessly die.
I see fields covered with clover.
Do farmers use strange chemicals
to get a better crop?  Do animals
who feed on the harvest
contaminate their innards,
so that we eat polluted food?
 
So my thoughts rumble on, 
despite the silence all around.
Why can't I have silence in my soul?

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