The bird is known by his note, the man by his words.
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Shes Gone
My woman is gone (woman is gone), my woman is gone (woman is gone).
She had left me a note hanging on my door:
She say she couldnt take it, she couldnt take any more.
The pressure around me - just couldnt see;
She felt like a prisoner who needs to be free.
Fools have tried, yeah - wisemen have failed:
Oh, listen to me, honey: life could never be another jail.
Still we know now: well never see smoke without fire
And everyone you see has a heart desire.
Shes gone (shes gone), shes gone (shes gone),
Shes gone (shes gone), shes gone, ye-ah!
Oh, mocking bird, have you ever heard,
Words that I never heard?
Oh, mocking bird, have you ever heard,
Words that I never heard?
She made it through the exit (she just couldnt take it);
She made it through the exit (she just couldnt make it).
And, oh, my children, if you see me cryin:
My woman is gone.
If you see me - if you see me - if you see me -
If you see me cryin -
If you see me - if you see me - if you see me -
If you see me cryin:
Shes gone (shes gone), shes gone (shes gone), shes gone, ye-ah!
Oh, mocking bird, have you ever heard,
Words that I never heard?
Oh, mocking bird, have you ever heard,
Words that I never heard?
Shes gone (shes gone), shes gone (shes gone), shes gone
(shes gone)
song performed by by Bob Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No bird has ever uttered note That was not in some first bird's throat; Since Eden's freshness and man's fall No rose has been original.
quote by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Not Do It, Sir, Today?
'Why so I will, you noisy bird,
This very day I'll advertise you,
Perhaps some busy ones may prize you.
A fine-tongued parrot as was ever heard,
I'll word it thus-set forth all charms about you,
And say no family should be without you.'
Thus far a gentleman addressed a bird,
Then to his friend: 'An old procrastinator,
Sir, I am: do you wonder that I hate her?
Though she but seven words can say,
Twenty and twenty times a day
She interferes with all my dreams,
My projects, plans, and airy schemes,
Mocking my foible to my sorrow:
I'll advertise this bird to-morrow.'
To this the bird seven words did say:
'Why not do it, sir, to-day?'
poem by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Making Lvoe With Her Own Bed
you are just near me
but between us is a door
and between that door
is another door, and so
when you say a word
i have to figure out what
you really mean,
when i open the door
there is a glass wall and
i thought it was you
humming,
it is cold tonight
i am closing a window
out there
i see a black bird perched
upon a branch,
it is cold and i am shutting
myself for any
kind of significance like
what if the bird dies?
what if the bird is you
disguised as a bird?
tonight i cannot sleep
something bothers me
all these thoughts bother me
there is no note
that you are coming back
from that long trip
away from home
was it Sarah who said
that she is making love with her bed?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Morn birds, noon birds
the joyous chirp
of a sparrow
in the morn sky
sends a heaven into me
for a moment
i am the piano
and the chirp
a finger that sends
pleasant notes
reverberating
through my soul
this afternoon
heard the more
sedated chirps
of a bird on a wire
the halcyon noon
where the sun and
comfortable temperature
entice you to bed
note after note
the bird sings
wheeling nauseatic
nostalgic images
through my brain
school days,
childhood friends
and those days
that reminded us
of dream chasers
in a land of honey
the colour of light brown amber
inspired by
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time to Hear (Birdsong)
The bird calls to protect the earth
She sings under the kitchen roof
In a magical, hypnotic trill
In quiet crystal notes of truth
Even if we cannot name the bird
We can set our day's concerns aside
None of us are innocent now
Of making it harder for wings to fly
Are we to say which of the species
Among us are worth less or more
A birdsong calls to protect the earth
It is in our power, to act for her
It's time to care while hope is there
It's time to hear before hope is lost
Birdsong calls to heal the earth
To repair what damage can be reversed.
A blue note sounds and we give pause
A new note skims across the earth
The bird calls us to tend her roof
While our neglect can be reversed.
[with thanks and acknowledgment to letter-writers in the New York Times: Jeff Fischer, Matthew Schenker and Paul Smaldino]
poem by Frank Bana
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Who Hath Ears To Hear Let Him Hear
The sun doth not the hidden place reveal,
Whence pours at morn his golden flood of light;
But what the night's dark breast would fain conceal,
In its true colors walks before our sight;
The bird does not betray the secret springs,
Whence note on note her music sweetly pours;
Yet turns the ear attentive while she sings,
The willing heart while falls the strain adores;
So shall the spirit tell not whence its birth,
But in its light thine untold deeds lay bare;
And while it walks with thee flesh-clothed the earth,
Its words shall of the Father's love declare;
And happy those whose ears shall hail its voice,
And clean within the day it gives rejoice.
poem by Jones Very
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Loquacious
this afternoon, i talk a lot, and the more i talk,
the more words flowed from my mouth, the more i become less
of myself,
that is the irony of talking, the more i empty myself of this burden
using words, the lighter i become, the more useless i become of myself,
words and more words,
the more i have of them, the more meaningless my thoughts have become
and they who are listening have become more silent than ever,
i know, their minds are somewhere else, and i know that they know
that there is this spirit in front of them so restless,
wriggling like a worm, jumping like a horse, flapping like a bird
wanting to get rid of something: the fruit wanting to be free from the worm,
the horse from a gadfly, and the bird from the pricking flea....
what else can they say? they must have been saying.
we perfectly understand, we have been there, we were once a fruit
with a worm in our pulp, a horse with a gadfly in our tail,
a bird unable to get rid of the flea....
we were rotten once, we jumped the more, and now we are flying away.
what a life we have, we are never free, and we are never for even once
comfortable with what we are and what we have....
what we do not have of course, is what bothers us the most.
be it a horse, a bird, or a fruit, a flea, a worm, a gadfly of old
like what Socrates once mentioned before he took the fatal poison.
well he died, and here we are always trying to remember.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Note for Me
You left me a piece of note
Many seasons ago
I moved away I forgot
It is stuck in my heart though!
When I open the window
It comes with the light
With the winds the words blow
Comes back in the dream of midnight
I have forgotten the words though!
It remains with me a musical note
The tunes of which still flow
I moved away I forgot
It is stuck in my heart though!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Little Note
This is just a little note, to let you know I adore you;
No surprise I am sure, yet, never forget this, I implore you;
Perhaps one solitary moment you will find yourself
Reading these very words, and remind yourself-
That, no matter where you may then be-
We are made much the better, when we
Allow ourselves to be loved-and to love, in return;
With you considerate-the former is granted, the latter, I must earn;
I know our worlds have been quite desparate-
Yet I know, there is a world of wonder, here before us;
The Fates wish for us to consort:
This is our destiny, I shall allow naught to detour us;
Perhaps one day, far removed from whence first, you did read this little note,
You will be gladdened that you did heed this little note!
-Maurice Harris,14 January 2011
poem by Maurice Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suicide Kid
As she read the note aloud
Her voice clear and loud
'This is what she wrote
Her suicide note'
There were gasps all through the air
For everyone seemed to care
They said she was so great
But their compliments were too late
Her note read like this
'Nothing in my life is bliss
And no one sees the tears I cry
You will only care once i die
Perfection was only a minor concern
Love is what I yearn
This pain you say you now feel
Is probably not even real
As you sit there and moap or gloat
What you just read was my suicide note'
No words were spoken
No silence broken
No child whined
And no one shined
They were all put down to dirt
To see how much she hurt
This was her master plan
To hurt the common man
To feel the way she did
Little baby suicide kid
poem by Laura Kelly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A bird is known by his note and a man by his talk.
Self Reliance
HENCEFORTH, please God, forever I forego
The yoke of men's opinions. I will be
Light-hearted as a bird, and live with God.
I find him in the bottom of my heart,
I hear continually his voice therein.
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The little needle always knows the North,
The little bird remembereth his note,
And this wise Seer within me never errs.
I never taught it what it teaches me;
I only follow, when I act aright.
poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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The Selfsame Song
A bird sings the selfsame song,
With never a fault in its flow,
That we listened to here those long
Long years ago.
A pleasing marvel is how
A strain of such rapturous rote
Should have gone on thus till now
unchanged in a note!
--But its not the selfsame bird.--
No: perished to dust is he....
As also are those who heard
That song with me.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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