A bird of Unmindfulness flutters o'er ale feasts.
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Is Your Life Worth Living?
Life is breathing –
I have life
My heart flutters
In its breeze,
I pile money
So my life is full of ease.
Life is working –
I have life
My heart flutters
Beneath its strain,
I work and work
So my life keeps on going.
Life is enjoying
I have life
My heart flutters
For all pleasures,
I drink and dance and eat
So my life is lounging lazily.
Life is loving –
I have life
My heart flutters
In ecstasy,
I love all
So my life is full of joy.
Life is serving –
I want more life
My heart flutters
For other’s worries,
I serve and help
So my life aims heavenly heights.
poem by Angelina Pandian
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All the feasts will sing
All the feasts will sing
Let us dance
Let us sing
Let us celebrate
The whole world will dance
The whole world will sing
The whole world will celebrate
Even the feasts will sing
Will dance
Will celebrate
Passover
Christmas
The Prophet's Birthday
Mother's Day
Labor Day
Valentine's Day
All the feasts will sing
All the feasts will dance
All the feasts will celebrate
All the feasts will say
Life is beautiful
Life is a short dream
Let us enjoy it.
poem by Naji Almurisi
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A Blue Bird...
THERE is a blue bird
nesting inside my belly
there are butterflies in
there too,
THERE is nothing that
comes out from my belly
there is nothing that
flutters in there
nothing flies away
there is nothing
that comes out from
my mouth
THERE is only a blue bird
in my belly
the butterflies do not
last
only the blue bird
yes
this blue bird
this silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Little Bird
The father sits in his lonely room,
Outside sings a little bird.
But the shadows are laden with death and gloom,
And the song is all unheard.
The father's heart is the home of sorrow;
His breast is the seat of grief!
Who will hunt the paper for him on the morrow -
Who will bring him sweet relief
From wearing his thoughts with innocent chat?
Who will find his slippers and bring his hat?
Still the little bird sings
And flutters her wings;
The refrain of her song is, 'Gos knows best!
He giveth His little children rest.'
What can she know of these sorrowful things?
The mother sits by the desolate hearth,
And weeps o'er a vacant chair.
Sorrow has taken the place of mirth -
Joy has resigned to despair.
Bitter the cup the mother is drinking,
So bitter the tear-drops start.
Sad are the thoughts the mother is thinking -
Oh, they will break her heart.
Who will on errands, and romp and play,
And mimic the robins the livelong day?
Still the little bird sings
And flutters her wings;
'God reigns in heaven, and He will keep
The dear little children that fall asleep.'
What can she know of these sorrowful things?
Grandmother sits by the open door,
And her tears fall down like rain.
Was there ever a household so sad before,
Will it ever be glad agaiin?
Many unwelcome thoughts come flitting
Into the granddame's mind.
Who will take up the stitches she drops in knitting?
Who will her snuff-box find?
Who'll bring her glasses, and wheel her chair,
And tie her kerchief, and comb her hair?
Still the little bird sings
And flutters her wings;
'God above doeth all things well,
I sang it the same when my nestlings fell.'
Ah! this knows the bird of these sorrowful things.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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school holiday
lone corridors, classrooms
A bird chirps and flutters by
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Feasts must be solemn and rare, or else they cease to be feasts.
quote by Aldous Huxley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Watch Your Ass
somehow you must
graduate,
to the topmost layer
of unmindfulness,
do not be bothered by
the silence of others
they have their own
jigsaw puzzles
to put together to see
the whole picture
of their existence,
do not wait for their bother
rest assured
they are still your brothers
in this circles of
cycles
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ay De Mi
O bird, that used to press,
Thy head against my cheek
With touch that seem'd to speak,
And ask a tender 'yes' -
Ay de mi, my bird:
Ay de mi, my bird, my bird -
Ay de mi, my bird.
O tender downy breast,
And warmly beating heart,
That beating seem'd a part
Of me who gave it rest -
Ay de mi, my bird:
Ay de mi, my bird, my bird -
Ay de mi, my bird.
poem by George Eliot
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Like a leaf in the wind
Her soul flutters like a leaf in the wind
Clinging on to tree of life
With nothing more than hope
Devoid of pretense
Shorn of desires
Tossed about, at the whim of a gathering storm
Dark cold has slowed the sap
But deep inside, life fights to surge through
Longing for the next sunny day
When the sap will ease through fluid pathways
Until then, her soul flutters like a leaf in the wind
On a high branch she clings alone
While the other leaves huddle
Warm in their numbers
Sheltered in low branches
Wondering how she has lasted so long
While her soul flutters like a leaf in the wind
When the storm blows harder,
She sometimes feels close to giving up
And sinking quietly to the ground below
Returning to dust, from where she arose
But something in her refuses to let go
While her soul flutters like a leaf in the wind
So come wind, come storm,
Blow as you might
She will cling on to the tree of life
This lone leaf will fight.
poem by Anita Atina
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Shore Leave Ornithology
Slacks, coffee trend
I could have been in the us navy
Flapping grey, coffee smoke
I could have been in another nineteen-fifty
Where the hell were you?
Rough stencil, print music
Cardboard, cardboard, cardboard, cardboard, cardboard coffee
Saxophone mention barbers, n.y.
The cigarette was burning, the flat shoes
Stool
Bongo, coffee, don't mention that black man
The leather-coat was his
Where was she?
Could have been in the us navy
Flow beating air, table-top, shoulder slung
Shore leave, no sailors here
Cardboard, cardboard, cardboard, cardboard
Liquor slacks twisting
The cigarette was burning
The flat shoes, the flat shoes, the flat shoes
Bird, bird, bird, bird
I could have been in another nineteen-fifty
Bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird
Bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird
I could have been in another nineteen-fifty
Bird, bird, bird
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like A Sun-Bird That İs Drunk With Nectar
Like a sun-bird that is drunk with nectar,
you visit my soul continually with buzzing wings
and hopeless my life echoes on like a shadow
of what at a time it has been, as without hope
but still you draw near in the bright morning
bringing a kind of joy like a flower blooming
in the sheer dry wasted desert in bright colours,
while the night flutters, your embrace me tenderly
while your breast firmly alive press into me,
with shadows visiting us like tranquil butterflies
and outside the rain is falling, sieving continually
with clouds of steam rising from the hot tar;
sun-bird sometimes you leave and are gone
and then there is only sheer silence everywhere.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Bird's Wish
The bird asks me
What I’d do
If I am a bird.
I tell him
High and high I’d soar
So high that I’d see the earth no more
I’d be a bird on the tree
I’d be a bird that’s free!
What you’d do bird
If you’re a man?
To be fair
It’d be my only prayer to God
Don’t be so hard
Make me once again a bird!
Saying this the bird sings
And spreads its wings to a sky
I can never fly!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Name this bird
Name this bird
If you are.
If you wish
Go there.
Geography
I do not like.
History
This bird
is not feathery.
See the word
Search the bird.
The bird I saw
Above the rulrs
Above the law.
If you wish
Go and tell
But please
Do not say
The bird is in sleep
And not here to clip.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Dark Night
There is darkness everywhere,
the night is darker than black,
strange shadows loom on the wall,
as light flickers and flutters
on the oil lamp
The merciless wind is blowing hard,
harder than ever it was,
sharp like a sword,
piercing and reaming my raw wounds,
the flame on the lamp flutters violently
and then is blown off.
The wind smiles and then suddenly it is gone.
I light my lamp again.
poem by Dr Madhavi Grace
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What Now Little Bird?
what now little bird?
you look around you
the nest is empty
and mother bird is far away
and siblings
have taken the first jump
to the pond
to learn to float
and then
fly
you think that mother-bird
comes back
to feed you with another worm?
no, little bird
no one is coming back for you
you do not even
know if you have a father-bird
to save you
no, little bird
do not wait
do not waste your time
the sun shines
and it is time
for you to go too
fly now
little bird
find the real meaning of your wings....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Linnet
Upon this leafy bush
With thorns and roses in it,
Flutters a thing of light,
A twittering linnet.
And all the throbbing world
Of dew and sun and air
By this small parcel of life
Is made more fair;
As if each bramble-spray
And mounded gold-wreathed furze,
Harebell and little thyme,
Were only hers;
As if this beauty and grace
Did to one bird belong,
And, at a flutter of wing,
Might vanish in song.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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This Little Bird
John d loudermilk
Theres a little bird that somebody sends
Down to the earth to live on the wind.
Born on the wind and he sleeps on the wind
This little bird that somebody sends.
Hes light and fragile and feathered sky blue,
So thin and graceful the sun shines through.
This little bird who lives on the wind,
This little bird that somebody sends.
He flies so high up in the sky
Out of reach of human eye.
And the only time that he touches the ground
Is when that little bird
Is when that little bird
Is when that little bird dies.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To a Sleeping Child
Lips, lips, open!
Up comes a little bird that lives inside
Up comes a little bird, and peeps, and out he flies.
All the day he sits inside, and sometimes he sings,
Up he comes, and out he goes at night to spread his wings.
Little bird, little bird, whither will you go?
Round about the world, while nobody can know.
Little bird, little bird, whither do you flee?
Far away around the world, while nobody can see.
Little bird, little bird, how long will you roam?
All round the world and around again home;
Round the round world, and back through the air,
When the morning comes, the little bird is there.
Back comes the little bird and looks and in he flies,
Up wakes the little boy, and opens both his eyes.
Sleep, sleep, little boy, little bird’s away,
Little bird will come again, by the peep of day;
Sleep, little boy, the little bird must go
Round about the world, while nobody can know.
Sleep, sleep sound, little bird goes round,
Round and round he goes; sleep, sleep sound.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Reciprocal
MY mistress, where sits she?
What is it that charms?
The absent she's rocking,
Held fast in her arms.
In pretty cage prison'd
She holds a bird still;
Yet lets him fly from her,
Whenever he will.
He pecks at her finger,
And pecks at her lips,
And hovers and flutters,
And round her he skips.
Then hasten thou homeward,
In fashion to be;
If thou hast the maiden,
She also hath thee.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Preparation
THE little bird sits in the nest and sings
A shy, soft song to the morning light;
And it flutters a little and prunes its wings.
The song is halting and poor and brief,
And the fluttering wings scarce stir a leaf;
But the note is a prelude to sweeter things,
And the busy bill and the flutter slight
Are proving the wings for a bolder flight!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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