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Chirping Bird
chirping bird chirping bird
chirp no more
the sun has come
and it is time for you to sing
chirping bird sing
chirping bird sing a song for the sun
it has come
to give you the clouds and the air and
the song for you to sing
chirping bird chirping bird
sing with the sun
sing that song for me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Abstraction Fo The Word Chirp....
i hear birds chirping
early morning
on those trees
clouds arrive, light
spreads,
green becomes too green
in the fields of
life,
i hear birds chirping
sweet to my ear
i give it priority
abstract. delet morning
move out clouds from the picture
double click green fields
focus on life
delet birds
add volume to chirping
it is all chirping now
just chirping
chirping chirping
the essence of chirp.
i have abstracted it from
everything else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chirping Monsters
He was chirping like an escaped bird,
Wings were aloft in the stations
Suppressing time and its quality
From the start to the finish,
He was chirping like a poetic disorder
As the birds sing and the monsters linger.
Senseless, the redundant beasts have furnished
The earth with its crust,
And the bird's flight shall shine, shovelling the air
With both beaks after both wings.
The flight fades away in fighting fairness,
Eating entrances for the terrors
Inside tense beasts and limbs.
The monsters shake after attacks,
Inside the life we have run accordingly.
poem by Naveed Akram

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A Little Bird
a little brown bird
walks on the ground
hops like a kangaroo
unable to fly
it fell from the tree
from a nest
on wings still not fit
for flying
i try to pick it up
and i hear a bird chirping
watching
oh, a mother
perhaps...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Certain Preference On Early Mornings...
sometimes forgive me
but i do not like to hear bird chirping by my window
on early mornings for honestly i prefer
the silent sounds of the wind
from the sea,
and so when i hear those chirping birds
perching on the tree
those still feeding their fledgelings
i exercise that right of having to close my
glass windows
preferring once again
the privacy of my room and the exclusion of the
outside world
by the curtains and then i begin to sip my coffee
reading a poem
listening to the words seeping like rain to the
hair of my own soul.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem about Poetry - the bird belting out a poem
twilight amusement
the different IQs
that make their way
to my room
dividing the world
in the form of chirp
chirp, chirp, chirp
twitter, twitter, twitter
in so many styles
and tones and syllables,
some extended,
some short broken notings
as diverse as the blooms in the garden
warbling, twittering, twit, tweedling, chirping
chirping, chirp
the singing IQ chart
try, try, try, you never know
how good you are if you never try
the varying quality bird songs
from the large garden tree
each bird's chirp
a humble contribution
from a little creation
each chirp divides the world
at morn, at dusk
what a delight to the ears, mind
simple short noted twitter
long extended mutli-toned varied tweedle
the varying quality poems
those chirpy nature poems
by celebrity birds
the like of sylvia plath,
and proletarian birds
the like of impoverished citizens
of the world
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo

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Birds Nest
Have you not seen the bird
flying far, again and again
collecting straws to weave a nest-
a home- for its young ones to be.
As eggs are hatched
out come the young
chirping or crying, to be fed,
the bird flies again, and again
collecting grains
to feed the young
who cannot fly
It chews the grain but does not swallow
beak to beak it feeds young fellow
caressingly and lovingly
so all are fed properly.
Young get wings, by and by:
and coaxed by the mother bird;
attempt to fly.
Then suddenly one day
the young one flies far away
It knows not where: and
The nest gets barren,
Lonely...
The bird DOES NOT GRIEVE
OR DOES IT
We humans, we do not know.
Magic show begins
when the first green flash of a
firefly appears
and crickets start chirping, synced
like metronome to my ears
tanka by Bryce Edward Coast

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Seasons Come And Seasons Go
Summer winds.
Soon they will be gone,
And
Fall begins.
And it wont be long,
Before
Winter ends.
And the chirping of the birds singing
In the Spring,
Will be heard
Once again.
Summer winds.
Soon they will be gone,
And.
Fall begins.
And it wont be long,
Before.
Winter ends.
And the chirping of the birds singing.
In the Spring,
Will be heard.
Once again.
Seasons come and seasons go.
Appreciated more,
As one grows old.
Summer winds.
Soon they will be gone,
And.
Fall begins.
And it wont be long,
Before.
Winter ends.
And the chirping of the birds singing
In the Spring,
Will be heard.
Once again.
Seasons come and seasons go.
Appreciated more.
As one grows old.
Seasons come and seasons go.
Appreciated more.
As one grows old.
Seasons come and seasons go.
Appreciated more.
As one grows old.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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A Nice Day
bird with a yellow
feather
chirping on a branch
of a tree
fronting my glass
window
i rub doubt away
from my eyelids.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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A bird came into my garden
A bird came into my Garden
She looked very Cheerful
Her beak was red and feathers Blue
Red stripes shone on the Body
Sound of her chirping lured me
I wanted to take her in my Lap
I ran after her
She kept on Dodging
Though tired but urge was Increasing
I tried my Best
But couldn’t catch her
Frustrated, I sat down on the Mat
I closed my eyes to take little Rest
I opened my eyes and was quite surprised
I found the bird sitting in my Lap
She understood the feelings,
I had for her
Surrendered Herself
To make me love her
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela

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Family Is Like....
Family is the best
Sometimes strict and mean
Mostly loving and helpful
Like a chirping bird
Fun to be around
Makes me feel good
Playful and harmless
My family is like a flower blossoming
Impossible to live without
You need it to be loved
You need it to love back
Like a fish without water
I love my family so very much
They are my guardians and hope
They are kind and loving
My family is like angels who fly in sky
poem by Julian Ohayon

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My favorite weather is bird-chirping weather.
quote by Terri Guillemets

Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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When the Bush Begins to Speak
They know us not in England yet, their pens are overbold;
We're seen in fancy pictures that are fifty years too old.
They think we are a careless race - a childish race, and weak;
They'll know us yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
'The leaders that will be', the men of southern destiny,
Are not all found in cities that are builded by the sea;
They learn to love Australia by many a western creek,
They'll know them yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
All ready for the struggle, and waiting for the change,
The army of our future lies encamped beyond the range;
Australia, for her patriots, will not have far to seek;
They'll know her yet in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
We'll find the peace and comfort that our fathers could not find,
Or some shall strike the good old blow that leaves a mark behind.
We'll find the Truth and Liberty our fathers came to seek,
Or let them know in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
poem by Henry Lawson

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Bad Connection
Seeing you every day
Yet always so far away
Is too much for me to bare
The chirping of a bird
Reminds me you're still there
The faces on the wall
remind me of what I missed
Your words of wisdom at my fingertips
leave me wishing I knew you more
All I can say is
I was a fool

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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358
you once said
you are unhappy
you live on this hard shell
of a tortoise
and your burden
is such that you cannot
really move freely
as a bird with its wings
you wish the burden
melts into your skin
and it is done
then you say
the skin binds you
and the flesh and bone
are burdens too
you want something
lighter like the feathers
of a free bird
something light and easy
and verily free
and it is done
i am happy to see
you flying in the skies
doing some acrobatics
in space
chirping some melodies
under the trees
diving in the sea
teasing the rivers
and this hovering
on the cows
and today i hear
a different song
a sad song from a bird
by my window
it is you
you want to return
to the hard shell of
the tortoise
you miss the silence
and the privacy
of your hiding
now, you have doubts
what burdens are
what freedom is
and this cannot just
be easily done
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What You Are Saying
you once said
you are unhappy
you live on this hard shell
of a tortoise
and your burden
is such that you cannot
really move freely
as a bird with its wings
you wish the burden
melts into your skin
and it is done
then you say
the skin binds you
and the flesh and bone
are burdens too
you want something
lighter like the feathers
of a free bird
something light and easy
and verily free
and it is done
i am happy to see
you flying in the skies
doing some acrobatics
in space
chirping some melodies
under the trees
diving in the sea
teasing the rivers
and this hovering
on the cows
and today i hear
a different song
a sad song from a bird
by my window
it is you
you want to return
to the hard shell of
the tortoise
you miss the silence
and the privacy
of your hiding
now, you have doubts
what burdens are
what freedom is
and this cannot just
be easily done
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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It Is So Good To Be Outdoors
On a sunny day like this day tis just great to be alive
Just to walk out in the sunshine or to go off on a drive
To the mountain or the coastal town or to the park nearby
It is nice for to be outdoors when the sun is in the sky
A sunny day in September of around 20 degrees
And the scents of flowers and blossoms wafting in the freshening breeze
And the young lambs in the paddocks around their mothers play
It is good for to be outdoors on a warm day like today,
The familiar song of the blackbird a feathered minstrel of the Spring
And the honeyeaters chirping and the shrike thrush pipe and sing
And October days are looming and September all but gone
And the Spring is passing quickly and father time keeps ticking on
And the welcome swallows chirping they are so graceful in flight
It is so good to be outdoors in the September sunlight.
poem by Francis Duggan

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When The Blue Bird Sings
oh! the wind cries with it
when the blue bird begins to sing
when the night is so cold
when the moon hides behind
the clouds
oh! the leaves begin to hush
and sympathize
but the blue bird does not stop singing
and then it stops
at dusk
it is no longer there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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