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The Eggs Of The Blue Bird On The Nest
the blue bird
takes care of its nest
all the white eggs
warm beneath its feathers
all those nights
and even cold days
and then when the eggs hatch
the fledgelings
prematurely spread their wings
fall off from the branch
where the nest hangs
on the following morning
you see the ants feasting on their flesh
ah! the blue bird sings again
readies itself for the rain
it escapes away from its sorrows
and flies away...far, far away
far, far away....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When A Beautiful Singing Bird Comes Near You
when this beautiful singing bird comes close
to your heart
prepare to open right away what you just closed
prepare the place where it must hover
give it the best twig
let it lay its eggs and let it hatch
give it more time
to stay on its nest
when it begins to sing, listen
savor the pleasure found it its songs
it is something so beautiful in your heart
savor it
you know that this bird seldom comes and when it leaves
it leaves without your notice
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bird Is Ready To Leave
love is a part of life
magical feeling thats apart of your heart
it comes and goes just like a bird that
becomes an adult who is ready to leave home
we are not ready to leave home
but
we sure can make it
if not we will fly back home
and ask for help
even though we grow old
things can stay between us
nothing can change that moment were we hatch
from our eggs
and grow to fly away from home
poem by Allison unknown
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Within The Shade
Behold, within the leafy shade,
Those famous dwellings called nests:
Bird’s eggs and twigs gathered.
Stay near me, as I uproot
This monument of Nature
With hands of health.
That is work! This matters to us,
The eggs taste special from the wild.
I consume and spare them at will,
The people answer with loud acclaim
That my eggs clad with gold
Are the better waste, the better health.
Behold, within the shade of dwellings
Is a bird’s work, my work,
And the work of people.
poem by Naveed Akram
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14 Thousand Eggs
now i am that chicken
that lays all those fourteen thousand eggs,
this small chicken
has tiny feathers
it cannot fly away but
it cannot lay its butt upon all these
fourteen thousand eggs
it is sad,
these fourteen thousand eggs
shall not hatch
how i wish i can hear the songs of
fourteen thousand chicks
what can their tiny voices be
to God? to those higher skies?
what cant they be?
shall they be angelic like those seraphims and cherubmims?
or shall they be the sounds of wailing
of grieving widows
of dissatisfied workers
of disappointed humanity
of men and women loveless upon the tracks of life
of children abandoned
of marriages in shackles and shattering
soon i shall retrace
what i have said
open the pages of this journal
and find out again
what life is,
if i have lived in
vain.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Matter Of Decision
the black bird of loneliness
hovers over the window of the house
and stops to look at
our roof
we shoo it away
there is no place here
where it can build its own nest
we still wait for the bird of bounty
the one that brings us
the eggs of grace
the feathers of happiness
it is the only bird that we welcome here
as a matter of our own decision
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Quail's Nest
I wandered out one rainy day
And heard a bird with merry joys
Cry 'wet my foot' for half the way;
I stood and wondered at the noise,
When from my foot a bird did flee--
The rain flew bouncing from her breast
I wondered what the bird could be,
And almost trampled on her nest.
The nest was full of eggs and round--
I met a shepherd in the vales,
And stood to tell him what I found.
He knew and said it was a quail's,
For he himself the nest had found,
Among the wheat and on the green,
When going on his daily round,
With eggs as many as fifteen.
Among the stranger birds they feed,
Their summer flight is short and low;
There's very few know where they breed,
And scarcely any where they go.
poem by John Clare
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New Words
new words are eggs
in my bossom, the warmest
and coziest part of my body
till they hatch to sing the
diverse and haunting tunes
i create for them that tiptoe
over the four corners of mind
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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8 Eggs Laid!
8 eggs laid!
At the completed time;
8 eggs paid by the bird!
At the completed time;
However, try to treat me with respect! !
For, you keep on attacking me with your negative attitude.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Black Bird That Keeps On Flying
the black bird
keeps on flying
over my head
its wing tips
touch my hair
the black bird
weeps
and my mind
cannot ignore
it
it is seeing you
again
and it does not
know
what to do
with its beak
it wants to kiss you
but your eyes
are angry
it wants to land over
your hair
but they are hard
as wires
the black bird
has no nest for
its eggs
you never mind it
your mind
thinks always of
that white bird
in the sky
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Crouching Low
Two men in ragged clothing
sat beside the road
alert and on the hunt.
Each watched a different direction
looking for game to emerge.
One espied a small bird
unknown to either of them
and its strutting attracted them.
' That bird, ' one man says
'we could kill and eat.
It does not look that fast
and would be easy prey.'
'Well it could work, ' the other man said
'but if we don't hunt him and instead capture him
we could keep him as a pet.'
'What good would that do? ' said the first man.
'We don't need pets.'
'No, no' said the second man
'lets keep the bird
and take its eggs and eat the babies! '
'Now 'said the first man' that makes sense.
The Bird listening to all this with his super hearing
crouched low and muttered 'Barbarians.'
Here comes the Age of the Carnivores.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Green Eggs & Ham
I do not like green eggs and ham
I do not like them
Sam, I am
I do not like them here or there
I do not like them anywhere
I do not like them in a boat
I would not, could not, with a goat
I will not eat them in the rain
I do not like them on a train
I do not like them in a box
I will not eat them with a fox
I do not like them in a house
I would not, could not, with a mouse
I do not like green eggs and ham
I do not like them
Sam, I am
Green eggs and ham
Green eggs and ham
Dont like green eggs and ham
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autobiography Of A Seagull
the mother of course is a white seagull
who made love with a seagull
one springtime
when all the snow have turned to sea
and there were ten eggs
i am the fourth to hatch from among the ten
hardheaded shells
all my siblings love the fish and the sea
and the breeze
except me
all the while, i want to be human.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If Love Is A Wild Bird
if love is a wild bird,
then i must be a cliff or a rock
far away from the trees,
where the wild bird
builds its nest,
i must be an unknown forest
where the eggs are hidden
where the hatching is done
without even my knowing.
if love is a wild bird
beyond the grasp of my twigs
then i must be the night that hovers
on its wings
and stays also wildly on its dreams
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
The bird of paradise to the vulture has said
I wonder what you do to find yourself a mate
You're the symbol of filth, rotting flesh you cherish
Your bare head, crooked beak embodies ugliness
You do not feed your young with 'freshly processed milk'
But do with foul substance that you regurgitate
Rotten, so obnoxious for a baby not fit
On your legs you defecate, so ill-mannered you are
Hurling your foul vomit is so abhorable
And the Cuckoo agreed, yes it is true my friend
You're but the epitome of ugliness and filth
Nobody wants to care for you, nobody really does
I will not marry you if I'm your kind and size
Well you have said it all, everything for my kind
But before you speak, you should first understand
That for anything I do there is logic behind
On our legs we defecate to kill the bacteria
That cling to our feet from our dining area
The juice just cools our feet when the weather is hot
Not only that, my friend, it's anticeptic wash
And the vomit I hurl, it serves a purpose well
A projectile we use, enemies to repel
You spoke so fast my friend, you did not ask before
who between you and me has the misdeeds the more
between the two of us, it's you I'm very sure
You listen well, my friend, to you I'll say them all
You are a lazy brat, own nest you do not make
Nor hatch your eggs, just find a mother surrogate
In the nest of others there you just dropp your egg
And then leave everything to your demonic ways
The surrogate mother doesn't seem to realize
That one egg in her clutch is a stranger and fake
The egg you laid on the usurped, coveted nest
Of the other eggs therein, hatches way much ahead
Your chick having been born to harm and to destroy
Shoves up the rightful eggs, off the nest jettisons
A sure untimely death when it touches the floor
And if the lawful eggs are the first ones to pip
The chicks will surely die when your evil chick emerges
Very fast it will grow, the right ones overtake
without pity mauls them all with a hooked beak
Bleeding bodies fall to earth, sure and gory death
After the crime the hook fall from the nasty beak
Beak of a bird so young but knows the art of death
In this community, of sanitation we're in charge
Disposal of the dead is our daily job
What happens if carrions are to rot everywhere
Disease and death spreads, you won't be spared my friend
More than I, you're the one guilty of felony
If I were you, scram, and lost I better be
And you, Beautiful Bird to Paradise back you go
To the forest where you belong, enjoy your fashion show
poem by Pacific Hernandez
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The Cockatoo and the Kangaroo
The happy cockatoo asked the hopping kangaroo,
“Does everyone in your family have a purse like you? ”
The hopping kangaroo stopped and smiled at the bird,
Saying, “Calling it a pouch would be a better word.”
The happy cockatoo was interested in learning more
And asked, “A pouch? Please tell me what it’s for.
The kangaroo explained that she had become a mother.
This pouch was the home of this new precious other.
Out of the pouch the precious baby popped his head;
Looked at the cockatoo with a funny smile and said,
“You make me very nervous Mr. Happy Cockatoo.
Flying in the air with those arms on top of you.”
Mother kangaroo said, “Don’t be afraid of such things.
Since this cockatoo is a bird, those are called wings.
Just as we kangaroo hop on our legs to get around,
The cockatoo uses its wings to fly above the ground.”
The cockatoo said, “I guess it’s like my nest in the tree
Where I lay and hatch my eggs, then raise my family.”
Your ways seem strange. It’s different from what I see.
Though when I get to know you, you’re a lot like me.
We both have our babies and help them find their way
So they can love and raise their own families another day.
It’s this love we all share that shines brightly as a flame
Whether pouch, feather or wing, we’re all much the same.”
poem by Gregory Huyette
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The Jolly Bee...
they say
love will always stay
based on the
experience of the
jolly bee
it is not at all
true
there are chickens
in love
at first they cackle
but then
they do not hatch
their eggs at
all
there are words
that touch
and go
there are options
unthought of
there are
empty
hollow words
without
any weight
there are nights
without days....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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