In the quiet nook of a loving home,
Is my small world-
fenced by iron bars,
and a limited sky.
Protected from storms
and predator’s eye.
Fresh clean water,
steady sunflower seed supply.
Almost a picture-perfect life.
Yet, I often sigh.
I yearn for lush trees,
and open endless skies.
Where the sun shines bright
And the moon climbs high.
I long to join the chorus of dawn,
spread my wings and fly.
I want to build a nest
with mud, leaves and twigs dry
Teach my younglings
to soar by and by.
One day the door unlatched,
my stunted feathers gave a try.
I flapped and fluttered,
then bid my cell goodbye.
My tiny little throat
Gave out a joyous cry.
Now I had mountains, valleys,
And jungles to ply.
In this new beginning,
food was scarce,
The streams were dry.
No waterproof nest,
where I could lie.
Stars blinked down
with a silent sigh.
And I had to forgo,
my melodious lullaby.
For the constant fear
of the hunter’s pry.
New starts are challenges,
I won’t deny.
They test your spirit.
But also fortify.
They cast doubts,
Nevertheless, clarify.
So, crush the whispers of fear,
and learn to identify.
For new horizons bloom,
where limits die.
Categories:
younglings, freedom,
Form: Rhyme
*Image of Worm On Leaf by Pixabay.
an act of autumn
rustling leaves tumble
nest of starved younglings screeching~
crawling goes exposed
2022 September 07
*1st Place*
Autumn in Nature - Haiku
~~Tania Kitchin: Judged 2022 September 17
*HMS; 5,7,5.
Categories:
younglings, autumn, bird, insect, nature,
Form: Haiku
Y
Yggdrasil
younglings
yobbishly
yohimbine
yammering yardsticks
year-round
yuppifying
yuppifies
yokefellow
yarborough
yellowtail Ypsilanti
yearningly
yellowback
yarmulkas
Yevtushenko
Yellowstone yachtswoman
yellowfin
yellowing
yearlings
yodellers
yearnings
yachtsmen yesterdays
yearbooks
yachtsman
youngberry
yarramans
yellowhead
yeastiest yardstick
yieldingly
youngling
yogyakarta
yoghourts
Yugoslavia yodelling
Youngstown
yarmulkes
yataghans
yawningly
yellowish
youthfully cowardly
yellowness
youngsters
yeastlike
youngness
Yiddish
yardmaster
yuppiedom youngster
Yaroslavl
Yellowknife
yellowcake
Yugoslavian
yuppified
Yorkshire
yellowest
yattering
yellowlegs
yesterdays
yeastiness
ytterbium
yesteryear
yardbirds
YouTubing
yellowwood
yellow-belly
Yucatan
yourselves
yabbering
Y words?
8/11/20
written word by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020 ©
Categories:
younglings, analogy, word play, words,
Form: Free verse
There is a stack of books over there
One has information that could change your life if you care
Then have your collegiate book fair
And in the end you will end up with a scare
You will find out about your descendents past
On that seventies stage of academics with flasks
Oh my you lovely book warm
Your attitude will turn
If you are obsessed with these pages
At your intellectual ages
A witch will invade your space
And you may have to built your case
Why oh why are these younglings destined to die
Watch Mark of the Witch
that has Ivy Leaguers who all they do is .
Marc
Categories:
younglings, film, girl, grave, lust,
Form: Rhyme
Someone in the packed compartment spoke in my native tongue..
Voice resonated in my ears.. reminiscence of the past..beckoned..
A gush of wind from the far east... swept me off my feet..
Fragments of imagination took a flight…
Nostalgia spread its wings…thoughts rolled over…
I vividly remember…though not all…
As children we played under the tamarind tree that bred…
flocks of birds and their younglings in its shade..
Clatter of school children bubbling over with laughter…
Women gossiping in their husky voices as they bathed together...
Jingles of the bells hanging from the cattle necks..
filled the environs as they marched home in the dusk..
To watch the splendor of the falling stars..
and the mistfying cold moon of the winter…..
An old owl hooting.. unaware of crack of the dawn ....
The hearth in the corner that kept us warm..
Days spent chasing the colorful dragonflies…
Lying easy under the sun… till the twilight.
I want to go walking the paths back home…to my small village
somewhere in the nature’s womb….
Categories:
younglings, 10th grade,
Form: Verse
just the same ring
with a round of row zees
awash manicured lawns
with generic grass seed
that doth spring
to life with synthesized,
(yet deadly) chemicals meant
to guarantee wrest
ting control might and subdue
so nature forced
to become nsync from in vest
ment plot purchase
as proving grounds to test
a money bagged well paid
laborer at leisure time
sprawled asleep in comfy hammock
a much needed self deserved rest
whereat successful proof
evinces "American dream"
no matter quest
necessitates becoming linkedin
with fast paced lifestyle
attendant ulcer inducing "pest"
keeping up appearances,
where younglings nest
scolding woe begotten kith
if flawless grounds get messed
by clod hopping kids and/or smart pets
upsetting calculus figuring formula
determining trigonometric
landscaping tangential
to maintaining perfectly
squared off turf especially lest
the neighbors cease becoming hospitable
and stop offering gold plated invitations
to such honorable humble guest.
Categories:
younglings, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Dramatic Verse
Tiger In A Mall Display
resignation
oh green eyed one?
lounging against bars
of clinical steel;
sanitized sawdust laps
against enormous paws.
faux velvet roping
red as blood
stays the many gawkers
from your gleaming fangs.
a presence greater than thunder
in the Sumatran mountains
colour clear, rich, black and orange
you glow in the imaginings
of popcorn munching
sodaswilling, screeching younglings
pointing most rudely
at your regal self.
ah…but in the jungle
they would be meat, a meal
to break your fast,
soothe your bellies hunger growls.
in the jungle,
you were monarch
flowing through sun dappled depths
silent, immortal.
oh noble lord
none of your kin,
not females,
milky mothers,
capricious kits,
nor sires
roam the wild
seven thousand years ago
you disappeared
leaving us in silence
and shame.
Categories:
younglings, animal, tiger,
Form: Free verse
I want a day of full repose
With only Nature within sight,
For only then I truly might
Attain the peace which she bestows.
A while ago, two swallows came
To raise their younglings in a nest
Below the roof, and I felt blessed,
But then they vanished all the same.
The chirping birds were scared away;
Their glade and merry woods are gone.
As for warm shelter, there is none
And, without birds, my life is gray.
I cannot blame their choice or rage
Against the deeds of my own kin;
Although man’s craft and will can win,
A birdless world is but a cage.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
Categories:
younglings, bird, depression, loss, nature,
Form: Rhyme
Now it's almost half a millennium gone when it fell
The gigantic pen that colored England and the world.
The enigma of all times that no man can tell,
Nor had any sage of the long past foretold
That such a towering ink the earth could produce.
I know there's much bliss in that other world
Where jubilation is said to be infinity-fold,
Unlike the measly and spasmodic joys of this earth,
That come with taxes and levies to trim any mirth
Hopeless mortals may have gained from their tiresome labor,
Or anything heaven might have given as a favor.
Pray great ancestor of a noble loin:
Permit your amateur heirs to love the art of rhyme
And your dignified enterprises join;
That your trade may survive the ravages of time,
And that they may flourish those of your groin -
And let your younglings from this art earn fame and dime.
Sleep thee well till your children's fall
Until it's achieved their pen's sublime goal.
And when their eyes on their labors close
They will join in your blissful repose.
Categories:
younglings, tribute,
Form: Rhyme
And the old man murmured
“Try me at war”
Days came
They passed
Hours
They’d soundly
Blossom
Mankind
Regulated
Then Played
Possum
And the old man grinned crimsomly
“Gentlemen try me at war”
Seasons came
They passed
Fruits bared
Wholesome
At last
The markets
Flourished
And rashed
Again
The hunger
Settled
For gasp
With his eyes merely closed
The old man insisted
“Younglings your should try me at war”
Weather became warmth
Droughts made plentiful
Hardships plagued comfort
To become less sentimental
Oranges faded, green, colorful, then badge
Youth, who ever knew this old man might age
Sincerely written
And unconditional surrender amongst this page
As the old man rested, he lay
And to this day his tomb may say
“Gentlemen try me at war”
Categories:
younglings, life, music, philosophy, seasons,
Form: Lyric
It is tragic of my generation
to see the riches instead of Life's simple purity
in the bosom that is within
To feel the caress in play that is quite the opposite of sin
Money does not appeal to my appetite
The wallet that is mine will collect not a $100 bill
but the essence that surrounds our outside
The breath of the air
Warmth of the fall sun
Sounds that the flock of animals make
Feathers from the eagles and her younglings
Done with the folly of premarital relations
Ignoring the hospitality of a simple peasant from the street
I need to go beyond the world
face the penance
accept
now
Categories:
younglings, life,
Form: I do not know?