A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If we do not cherish him, he spreads his wings and flies back into his homeland.
quote by Kahlil Gibran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A Poem Of Syntax
A poet and his bird, his dog, his cat and his tree
A poet and the bird in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree and the wind and the cloud
The bird in the tree, the dog in the tree, the cat in the tree,
The bird in the tree, the dog on the tree, the cat under the tree,
The bird on the tree, the bird in a tree, a bird in a tree, a bird in the tree,
And the wind and the cloud and the poet and his dog and his cat and the tree
The dog chases the cat the cat chases the bird
And they all arrive in that tree
Where the poet is sitting under that tree
The poet takes the dog and the cat was envious
And the bird looks at them in silence
The silence looks at the poet in the eye
Of the cat and the bird flies away
The poet and the dog is the poem of friendship
The cat and the dog is the poem of the endless natural quarrels
And the bird that flies away against the cat and the dog and the poet and the tree
And flies against the wind that the bird is now fighting
And the clouds that seem so blue and blue
The bird that actually flies away
Is actually me
I was not the poet with the dog
I am not the tree I am not the wind I am not the cloud I am not the poet there who had a dog as friend and I was not the quarrelsome thing from the blue and out of the blue
I am the bird with wings and I always fly away to places
Against the wind to places where I can be as always be the bird with wings in silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
I want to fly!
yes, you do.
where do you want to go?
i am looking for a new home
how does one grow wings?
i want to fly...
it is the most quiet conversation.
the man begs to understand
why the mouth he is blest with does not take the shape of a beak.
the bird sings of many lands
the man has not yet been to
the little brown bird's heart is a ray of sun
but the man does not know
inside the wars are all in the making
outside it is still calm
the bird and the man kiss
the bird flies
the man falls asleep
the man flies
the bird is dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poet To Non-believer
A poet can make you believe in love.
A non-believer can't.
A poet can make your spirits soar.
A non-believer can't.
For a poet's power with a word
is like the wings of a bird.
But a non-believer who can't see ahead
is like the wings of a bird that's dead.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flightless Bird
My world is caged in,
I can not fly away,
I can not soar in the clouds,
With the wind and the angels.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
I sit here day in and day out,
I watch so many people coming in and going out,
They stay here so happy so proud,
And they leave again without any care in the world.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
I remember each face,
I remember them all saying hi waiting for a reply of hello,
They don’t understand how it feels,
They don’t understand what it’s like.
To be a flightless bird with clipped wings.
Wings tucked and head held high I sit here,
I wear a smile on my face and I keep myself beautiful and happy,
But inside all I can see are the bars that surround me,
I can’t get past them I can only sit.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
My world is a room full of people myself the center of attention,
Although I should not complain for this is my life,
And I make them smile I make the children laugh and look in my eyes,
And sometimes they look into my eyes and see my world through my eyes.
They know I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
They’ll stand and watch me as I walk around in my cage,
They’ll be there with me and try to understand.
Then they’ll have to leave and they’ll look over their shoulders.,
And they look into my eyes one last time,
Before they fly away into the world to bring back stories for the flightless bird with clipped wings,
They are my connection to the world,
They show me what they see through their eyes,
They show me wonders and beauties of a world I’ve never seen,
They are my window to the outside,
In their mind I can be a flightless bird in a world of wonder and of flight.
I am only a small bird in a cage that sits in a hotel,
Sits and watches as the world around me fly’s by,
I wait for the occasional stranger who looks into my eyes with knowing,
Maybe a person who is like me like a flightless bird in a cage,
They are my wings, the wings of a flightless bird who’s wings are clipped.
I sit in my own world and watch as it all moves by,
Day after day I watch and I say what is expected of me,
I sit in my world and I go on my own steady journey,
A journey in which I am a silent observer,
A flightless bird with clipped wings in a world of ever changing skies.
By: Bethany Maxwell
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The White Bird In My Hand
I LOST A bird,
it is a bird with white wings,
i shape those wings,
and give it strength,
in the wink of an eye
it flies away,
it never sings for me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Smiling Coast Of The Gambia
Gambia my homeland
but the finger of Africa
as am speaking
ye are the rumor subject
not thus thy smallness
neither thy population
but thy hospitality
clear hearty with dignity
visible to all.
Gambia my homeland
as thy coast smiling
thy needed all white bird
flies to smile with ye
tourist in reverse order
not thus beauty
not thus dosh
neither fame
but comfort thus conduct
with gentle climate behind.
Gambia my homeland
as ye are suprised
thy soil is dosed
not with inhaled
not corpse of thy children
but desperated refugees
not thus to aid
thus unexperience of war
not thus to balance thine
neither to explore
but to attain
blessed peaceful soil
thy secured skin
with stable blood.
poem by alfusainey Sonko
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As the wind caresses me through the w indow...
Delighted
The hoarse voiced crows
Caw caw as a veil of grey-black
Stealthily spreads on hills and the sea
Surprisingly the cawing sounds music
To the dry ears longing to hear
The tip tap of raindrops on the earth
The roar of thunder is music pr excellence
As the heart cocks its ears to absorb
Each and every nuance
The dragon flies dance in maniac rhythm
Their wings pitted against the erratic winds
Somewhere within my niche
Something stirs to life…
22sep2010
14.58hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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.
Poetothemics
No magician can make
Moon: A beautiful lass.
A poet can............
No device can grasp
The language of celestial
A poet can.....
You know! He dug out the beauty
From sorrow and melancholy
Mixed it with wine and enjoyed.
And He, enjoyed the song of her,
language was not known to him.
And He, depicted spirit of revolution
As a spiritual bird.An Albatross.
Bursted he and questioned to me.
'What device a poet has?
How they operated the device? '
I replied..
When a vinsect bites to a poet
Poetothemics activated.
'Never heard such words before! '
Now you heard from me!
He said...A poet can...
............***...........
poem by Aftab Alam Khursheed
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Bird Outside My Window
To find in thought
What escapes reality,
The love of friendship
Separated by time
And distant space.
I sometimes see a bird
Outside my window
And hope he flies to you.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cherish
Cherish
those who are close to you
before they go away.
Cherish
all your memories
in case they fade someday.
Cherish
each day you have,
treat it as your last.
Cherish
everything you have
ensuring they never get lost.
Cherish
every moment
as if it maybe your last.
Cherish
everything you possess,
as you might never get it again.
Cherish
your life,
as it is the only one you got.
Cherish
your health
if it fails you will fade away.
Cherish
the love of others
and return it equally.
But most of all
cherish everything.
18 January 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Phoenix Reborn
From the Great Fire’s ash, a new Phoenix shall rise
It’s glory is born from another’s demise
It’s mighty wings spread, as the Fire Bird sings
It’s voice heals the world, as it spreads it’s great wings
It rises above, a new King of the Skies
To the ends of the Earth the great Phoenix flies
Reborn from ashes, the Great Flame of the Sky
But in a burst of flame, this Phoenix shall die
Reduced to but ash, 'til the fire is stoked anew
This is the fate of the Phoenix, King of Skies Blue
From the ashes of death, shall a great flame be born
From the Great Fire’s ash, mighty Phoenix reborn
poem by Tim Vallie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Upon The Swallow
This pretty bird, O! how she flies and sings,
But could she do so if she had not wings?
Her wings bespeak my faith, her songs my peace;
When I believe and sing my doubtings cease.
poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love, free as air at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
quote by Alexander Pope
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Preciseness
All this talk about ego.
When no one escapes self expression.
Isn't that what composing is?
For a poet.
And the writing of it is what gets done.
For a poet.
Who unlike critics...
Sit and wait for something tart to remark.
That could be said of most!
Certainly not for everyone.
Is this place offered to those who create.
For those who are innovative in thought.
And not scholared in debated...
Seeking to correct self expressions.
And...
Hoping to find a clue what to do with their own.
If that should happen before the ego does arrive.
All this talk about ego.
When no one escapes self expression.
Isn't that what composing is?
For a poet.
I can pretend I know it all and I know I don't.
So you get no entertaining charades from me.
However,
Expect everything you can imagine,
From those who have none!
Their preciseness is overdone.
With an overbite.
And under-rated is their aggravation.
With an unspoken wish they were out of sight.
And they would get it delivered quickly.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Angel And Beauty
An angel with butterfly wings,
gossamer touch of beautiful things.
A satin sash and golden rings,
life is a wonderful thing.
The scarlet touch as sunset dies,
behold the world is full of lies.
The angel spreads its wings and flies,
to everyone’s breathless sighs.
The shadow of reason clouds our mind.
Where are we in ageless time?
Oh, behold my wonderful find,
the reason for living given in this sign.
Step back from this perilous world,
and let the beauties at your feet unfold.
Gaze upon the wealth untold,
of arms stretched out for you to hold.
Look around at things you’ve done,
at pleasures you have found,
and seek the soft and sandy ground,
where lies the happy children sounds.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!