Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.
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Little Wing
All her friends call her little wing
But she flies rings around them all
She comes to town when the children sing
And leaves them feathers if they fall
She leaves her feathers if they fall
Little wing, dont fly away
When the summer turns to fall
Dont you know some people say
The winter is the best time of them all
Winter is the best of all.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Another Number!
I've seen a few birthdays come and go
And I hope to endure a few more,
But at my age one can't help but question it all.
Just what is a birthday for?
When I was a child I looked forward to them.
It was exciting to guess what I'd get.
But now that I'm old, I don't feel that same thrill.
It's just something I want to forget.
Another year older means nearer the grave!
And I know I'm not ready to go.
So why keep on counting the years as they pass?
That's what I'm wanting to know.
So I'll stop having birthdays at all from now on
After all I don't feel my real age
And knowing time's passed is no comfort at all.
Besides which, how do you gauge?
You're only as old as you feel, so they say,
And I don't feel old at all.
Birthdays prove nothing, I'm still in my prime
Stop counting! I'm having a ball! ! !
poem by Dawn Ferrett
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For Us With The Faded Genes
Are birthdays really happy
For us with the faded genes?
Calendars remind us daily-
Our time is short and lean.
The hair is losing color
While some may lose all of it,
Bones not strong as they were before
And sweets, we have to forfeit.
We learn to be keen on cholesterol
Be adept at counting blood sugar
Get rid of the fat, quit alcohol
We try walking, but can't go far.
We manage to deduct the years
As birthdays come to remind
We are getting plagued by aging fears
And Time we label... unkind.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Feathers!
feathers on me
again and again
first to fly and now to earth rest
enable me to get ready
and carried me through you
anywhere there are feathers
like you said!
in me in you!
a very strange and intoxicating feeling
afterwards, that you traced my body
maybe i have gasp, of some lack of air!
in high feather, full feathers
you will be writhing with ecstacy
Very pleasurable for me
I feel extremely good
you make me a path a invisible way
eagle feathers very powerful
sound bird feathers very delicate
for tight places or open places
make his sound so soft
Ah! My God! ! !
give me the name of that medicine!
Feathers on me!
Feathers on you!
poem by Mirna Morgan
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God Bless You On Your Birthday!
May God bless you on your birthday
With gifts and cards and such
From those who care and those who pray
And those who love so much!
While birthdays come and birthdays go,
It's love that's always here
And that's God's way to let you know
You're special, too, my dear!
Congrats on all the good you've done -
You went the extra mile!
You shared your wondrous sense of fun
And thrilled us with each smile!
You did your best! You blessed our hearts!
You proved your heart is kind!
And though it's time to make new starts,
Some new friends you will find!
Perhaps they should be told that this
Is when your life began!
Yet now, I'll send my magic kiss
'Cos I'm a friendly fan!
poem by Denis Martindale
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A Good Friend To Me
The gold billed blackbird whistling upon the the garden tree
For the past few years a good neighbour to me
He whistles every day all through the Spring
And his song to it has a distinctive ring.
From the other all dark males of his race him I know
Since on his left wing a few flight feathers white as snow
He tells other males of his kind in his song
This patch of ground to me and mine belong.
Each time I hear the blackbird pipe and sing
My thoughts return to the far northern Spring
On Spring evenings in groves by Millstreet Town
The blackbirds pipe before the sun goes down.
The blackbird whistling on the wattle tree
He only sings to proclaim territory
His neighbour males the warning in his song hear
And his border they dare not venture near.
The blackbird in the garden a good friend to me
I know him by sight each time him I see
By the few white feathers on his left side wing
And his song it takes me to the Northern Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Selecting Which Ones To Fry
It has been a long time,
Since I've tested wings to fly.
Now when I choose to soar,
I feel I must spy to see who is near by...
Doing the wing clippings.
And selecting which ones to fry.
There are too many jealous wishing to pluck feathers.
It seems as if I have to waste my time,
Multi-tasking.
And I have not been asked,
To clarify a thing from my point of view.
It is assumed what I do I have done,
Without obstacles!
And watching for those have kept my flight afloat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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B-Day
Birthdays are so special to me
It's the day that we were born
When we came to be
Like our DNA or fingerprints
We are all unique gifts
God sent
We live....
We were meant
We are something remarkable
To so many whether
We are a
Son, daughther
Sister, Brother
Wife, Husband
And of course
Let us not forget
A special friend
So birthdays are so important
To me, you see
I say it proudly
It marks a phenomenal day
In history
A present that is heavenly
Our B-Day
The day that we all can to be
A Blessings! ! ! !
poem by Tameeka Smith
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Teardrop
Liz fraser
(love)love is a verb
Love is a doing word
Feathers on my breath
Gentle impulsion
Shakes me makes me lighter
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
In the night of matter
Black flowers blossom
Feathers on my breath
Black flowers blossom
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
Water is my eye
Most faithful my love
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire of a confession
Feathers on my breath
Most faithful my love
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
Stumbling a little (x2)
song performed by by Massive Attack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In painting feathers, you want to create the look of feathers, but if you try to paint all the feathers, you have nothing but disaster.
quote by John O'Neill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moving and Dreaming:
Fast moving down, up, rounding curves, as
Astonishing morning scatters glow
And joy throughout and blue overflow
Bushes huddling and whistling wind upsetting
Chatting chickadees and ruffling feathers, they scatter.
Still, heel and toe slowly rocking and leaning into curves
asserting my pace against the wind, becomes winded.
Have to relax my pace.
So still are feathered friends strung along
the nearly bare limbs. Relaxed.
They ruffle feathers and wing.
Relaxed. I stretch my limbs and my dream flew.
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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A Distant Kind Of Love
A dove calls her mate in the moon
But a sea wind calls, go not to soon...
For the night is young in circles new
The waves are rolling deep and blue.
So' it is for you; the world was made
To lift your feathers above the wave!
So dip your wing tips in salt rock air
Brave a poles ivory stair; if you dare!
For it's here your true loves heart lies
Anchored beneath the lustrous skies
Wave over wave- wing on wing!
The dove white creature clung, curing...
Until the sun in past shadows flame
Up and blessed the birds dead name
For the night is young in circles new
The waves are rolling deep and blue.
Wave over wave- wing on wing!
That dove white creature sort to cling...
Curing... deeper and deeper
Rolling... deeper and deeper
The little dove flew
To the heart of the moon,
To that part of the moon,
That could be you...
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The benighted Asylum
I flapped my arms like a flamingo.
But I realized and found.
There are no wing feathers like a fledged?
My dear benefactor!
Why did you fling me into this vast sky to flee in vain?
Not giving me an address or an addressee?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Dark End Of The Street
(Harold Adamson, Jimmie McHugh)
Comin' in on a wing and a prayer
Comin' in on a wing and a prayer
With our one motor gone
We can still carry on
Comin' in on a wing and a prayer
What a show, what a fight
Boys, we really hit our target for tonight
How we sing as we limp through the air
Look below, there's our field over there
With our one motor gone
We can still carry on
Comin' in on a wing and a prayer
Comin' in on a wing and a prayer
Comin' in on a wing and a prayer
With our full crew on board
And our trust in the Lord
We're comin' in on a wing and a prayer
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Is Winged For Two
Love is winged for two,
In the worst he weathers,
When their hearts are tied;
But if they divide,
O too true!
Cracks a globe, and feathers, feathers,
Feathers all the ground bestrew.
I was breast of morning sea,
Rosy plume on forest dun,
I the laugh in rainy fleeces,
While with me
She made one.
Now must we pick up our pieces,
For that then so winged were we.
poem by George Meredith
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Please Don’t Take Our Sunshine Away
Please don’t take our sunshine away,
For our flowers need their sunshine
Like our trees and plants too.
And all the animals need to wake up so they know what they are to do.
Our toy factories are run by sunlight,
And so does our big crystal clock too,
To tell us when a doll is to be made in a magical crystal cave.
The sun warms our hearts and all the birds in the trees.
And all of the butterflies and the yellow bumble bees.
So as the Krendoll dolls we will fight till we have our way,
To make Krendoll island filled with sunlight once again.
We need to bring back birthdays once again,
By making clocks tell time, bringing birthdays songs back with rhyme,
From beautiful sounding chimes.
Bringing back presents with bows and birthday cakes that glow.
Copyright 1995 Suzae Chevalier
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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I'm one of those people who was taught not to ruffle any feathers. Of course, I have no problem ruffling feathers.
quote by Anne Heche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dignity
as the peacock
struts its fan of feathers
like a rainbow
in the barnyard
the hen keeps its
own home
protecting its chicks
around its feathers
from the invasion of
the rat
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Parting
The year is on the wing, my love,
With tearful days and nights;
The clouds are on the wing above
With gathering swallow-flights.
The year is on the wing, my sweet,
And in the ghostly race,
With patter of unnumbered feet,
The dead leaves fly apace.
The year is on the wing, and shakes
The last rose from its tree;
And I, whose heart in parting breaks,
Must bid adieu to thee.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Kevin Costner has feathers in his hair and feathers in his head. The Indians should have called him 'Plays with Camera.'
quote by Pauline Kael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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