Home » Poems » Best » Phil Organ » Best Phil Organ Poems

Best Poems Written by Phil Organ

Below are the all-time best Phil Organ poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Phil Organ Poem

Wild, Beautiful, Little Things

Before the sun is fully up
Beside the window with my cup
I watch them come on silent wings
Those wild, beautiful, little things.
Each day they visit more and more
The feeder by my cabin door

Small clans of tiny Chickadees
Fluttering in by twos and threes
Rush to the feeder, then they search
Pecking and flitting perch to perch.
Moving too quickly to decide,
Their actions have me mystified.

A Chickadee does nothing straight,
He'll make a dash, then hesitate,
It's funny how his body works
In little pauses, little jerks.
He pecks, and suddenly departs
His flight is full of stops and starts.

He's up, he's down, then zig and zag
Like bird and breeze are playing tag.
Just as quick, on a sudden whim,
(Who can say what comes over him)
He'll stop - it's time to sit and sing.
This wild, whimsical, little thing.

He swoops up over hills of air
And turns sharp corners that aren't there,
So quick to move, then quickly pause
I think he lives like this because
That's the way he's put together,
A speck of life, of flesh and feather.

Yet, through the raging winter storm
With nothing much to keep him warm,
Beneath a wing, his head will rest
The fire in that small wild breast
Defies the frost the cold night brings
And with the dawn, he wakes and sings.

From tales and legends, I would guess, 
We've filled a fabled wilderness
With sounds of nature in the raw
As brutes do battle tooth and claw
In some harsh land of ice and snow
Where most of us don't care to go.

But the wild call that beckons me
Is a soft sweet song, chickadee-dee-dee.

Details | Phil Organ Poem

A Cabin In the Wilderness

I saw a cabin in my dream,
Beside it ran a shimmering stream,
Along the pathway lilacs grew
A tree-lined meadow filled the view
And near the wall a rough hewn seat
Inviting me to rest my feet.
The elegant guests who came to call
Wore furs or feathers - and were very small
Careless of time, at dusk or dawn
They liked their lunch served on the lawn,
Like any gracious host I spread
A snack of nuts and bits of bread.
This place of peace I'd longed to find
Restored my soul and eased my mind.
It's just a dream, I must confess,
Some day I'll find it nevertheless,
My cabin in the wilderness.

 
Phil Organ

Details | Phil Organ Poem

Big Fish, Little Fish

In order for big fish to survive
Little fish are eaten alive
The little fish must never object
It's another law they have to respect.
Little fish aren't allowed to make laws
Only big fish can make them because
That's the way it always was.
The little fish must never complain
Or accuse the big fish of causing them pain,
"That can't be proven," the big fish say,
"The law is the law, we all must obey."
But, what if it isn't Nature's way
And little fish aren't created for that
Just for big fish to eat and grow fat.
And maybe little fish cry out in vain
And big fish, like always, ignore their pain.
What if little fish, weary and tired
Refused to spawn and slowly expired?
How would the big fish behave when they meet
If there were no little fish for them to eat?

Details | Phil Organ Poem

Dandelions

While waiting for warmer days to arrive

We coddle our seedlings to keep them alive

And make sure they're watered and sheltered and fed

For a draft of cold air could strike them dead

And right outside, when the snow is gone

In every meadow and field and lawn

Like pagan hordes that worship the sun

The invasion of dandelions has begun.

Blithely ignoring the weatherman's warnings

Of frosty nights and frigid mornings

They crowd together but always find room

To put down their roots to grow and to bloom.

So we mow off their heads and think, "well that's that."

But the next time we try it they're all laying flat.

To the passing breeze they offer their seeds,

A haphazard method that always succeeds.

We don't know who plants them, but I'm sure you'll agree

It's a much better gardener than you or me.

Details | Phil Organ Poem

To a Son

They told me there is much to know
And wisdom comes with age
Well, I was old long years ago
And knew a boy who was a sage
And, oh, he taught me many things, 
To listen when the warbler sings
And see the sun trapped in the wings
             Of Dragonflies.

He taught me how to love a son
And how to treat a wife
And how a mother's heart is won
And how a man re-shapes his life
To shield a child from want and pain.
When he and I walked in the rain
My world was fresh and green again
             Through his young eyes.

Details | Phil Organ Poem

Rainbows

A rainbow is always a wonderful sight

Made out of nothing but dewdrops and light

So it's mostly just water, yet it won't fall

It can hang there on nothing, nothing at all

And large or little, it's always an arc

That comes and goes and leaves not a mark,

It curves as it reaches across the dark sky

Spreading beautiful colours that dazzle the eye

When we're soaked and shivering after the storm

A rainbow looks lovely and dry and warm.

It's hard to approach from the front or the rear

If you reach out to touch it, it might disappear.

At one end of a rainbow (so we are told)

The Leprechauns buried a large pot of gold.

For those who dug holes and found nothing below,

Don't be discouraged, we want you to know,

You dug the wrong end or you found the wrong rainbow.

Details | Phil Organ Poem

It's About Time

We hurry and scurry, we're strapped to our clocks
Our lives are measured in ticks and tocks
We're all in a rat race, like it or not
And none of us know how much time we've got
Our days stream away in a downward spill
And you can't push that stream back up the hill.
Our tick tocks continue at night and all day
Even while sleeping our time slips away

You may think life's a journey, you're just passing through
Or you're here to save sinners, like He called you to do.
If you're one of the latter don't fiddle with fate
Your tick tocks are sure to run out if you wait.
You'll never be sure how you got here, or why?
Were you made out of clay, or just fall from the sky?
But you'll know when you're done and no longer exist
When they take that Tick Tocking clock off your wrist.