If there is one thing worse than being an ugly duckling in a house of swans, it's having the swans pretend there's no difference.
quote by Teena Booth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trumpeter Swans
TRUMPETER SWANS
Neither prone to liaison
Prefer to mate for life
“Trumpeter Swans”
Unto afterlife
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Wild Swans
I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more:
Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,
House without air, I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come over
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Swans
Night is over the park, and a few brave stars
Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold,
The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars
That seem too heavy for tremulous water to hold.
We watch the swans that sleep in a shadowy place,
And now and again one wakes and uplifts its head;
How still you are -- your gaze is on my face --
We watch the swans and never a word is said.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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Summer Afternoon
I watched as swans went gliding by,
Gazing at gracefulness so sleek,
Then spied a dancing dragonfly,
Displaying its beauty, so unique.
And as I sat down by the stream,
The swans majestic, drifted on,
A sight of enchantment so supreme,
As on this scene, the sunbeams shone.
With rippling sounds that filled the air,
So restful that such a gentle tune,
Made this a place extraordinaire,
There, this mild summer afternoon.
The wind moved softly down the creek,
And whispered to the swaying grass,
As if to say, with tongue-in-cheek,
Bow down. Let me unhindered pass.
And so the swans sailed out of view,
Around the bend and out of sight,
The dragonfly with thoughts anew,
Flew off into the warm sunlight.
Thus I was left to contemplate,
How calm and still, this quiet place,
How such a spot can encapsulate,
And my weary heart to so embrace.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Swans and Chimney Stacks
Only in Dublin
would two swans
crossing the docks
greet you in March
Light reflecting
refracting the image
of urban life
and city living
hazy sun and
smokey stacks
a tall ship mast
and two wild swans
Welcome to my city
cosmopolitan
21st century
metropolis
Welcome to my city
Viking terrority
mystical land
mysterious port.
poem by Geraldine Moorkens Byrne
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The Taj Mahal of the still mind
How I suspect ‘busy’ people…
Who said that spirituality
has anything to do with busyness..?
They turn enthusiasm into 'duty';
turn duty into guilt...
How I love those people
who always have time for anyone..
they are like swans:
serenity above; activity below;
never busy; always active;
floating white, serene, unruffled,
like swans; like lotus flowers;
like love.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Swan Song
Now I'm getting all fluffy for Bedtime Stories, this is how I see the Ugly Duckling in a Poem form, and I hope I do justice to the timeless classic by Hans Christian Anderson.
Do you remember?
The story of the
Ugly little bird
It was picked on
And trodden on because
Its plumage was plain
It grew up alone
Thinking it was
To clumsy to play
It watched with a tear
Alone and afraid
As winters and summers
Passed its lone life
It grew up with fear
And lived all alone
Accepting its life
It grew up that way
In the reeds of the marsh
But then one day
Hiding behind
The reeds of the marsh
It watched a swan land
In migration to pass
Graceful and pure
It bowed its handsome head
With grandeur and pride
He cocked his head held high
He swam to thro
To attract a new wife
And then just beyond
Behind the tall marsh reeds
He spotted the beauty
Alone and afraid
And it stopped in its wake
To bow its head
Just once more
At the confused ugly duckling
Behind the reeds of the mash
Taken by surprise
It cried in confusion of fear
Why do you mock me?
With your head so low
That only happens
When taking a wife
Said swan to the duckling
Its head still bowed low
Your beauty is wonder
Come now be my wife
Shaking its head
In cried in its rage
I am not a beauty
I cannot be your wife
Slowly it lifted
Its fine handsome head
Then said to the duckling
Look yonder my beauty
At your reflection ahead
Then looking at ripples
Where its teardrops fell
The ugly little duckling
Saw a swan instead
The handsome young swan
Once more bowed its head
I beseech thee my beauty
Be my wife, be my friend
Now a young swan
And duckling no more
It ruffled its feather
Its plumage snow white
Then bowing with tears
Her beauty so bright
Together they flew
As husband and wife
poem by Kaila George
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Summer Floats As A Waltzing Swan
Summer floats like a swan
Gracefully with blossoms so fair
Swans waltzing with melodious flare
Dancing in the lakes and streams
With wings of Summery dreams
Stargazer lilies of the mountains
The lily pods in the fountains
Floating sublime without a care
As Summer's fragrance fills the air
And her wings gently splash the
Sparkling waters of pulchritude rare
As we the dreamers stop to stare. Summer floats like a swan
Like nature's ballerina on the lakes
Dancing with her ballet slippers on
Gliding to the wistful mood
The Song of the Summer woods,
The beauteous Waltz of the Swans.
Summer's moments, the heart's keepsakes
Moments never forgotten in the sparkling
Crystal waters kissed by the sun.
The overture of nature's orchestra
The swans in aquatic Arabesque
A musical arpeggio, one by one.
poem by Carolyn Padgett Summerlin
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The Last Word
Creep into thy narrow bed,
Creep, and let no more be said!
Vain thy onset! all stands fast.
Thou thyself must break at last.
Let the long contention cease!
Geese are swans, and swans are geese.
Let them have it how they will!
Thou art tired: best be still.
They out-talked thee, hissed thee, tore thee?
Better men fared thus before thee;
Fired their ringing shot and passed,
Hotly charged - and sank at last.
Charge once more, then, and be dumb!
Let the victors, when they come,
When the forts of folly fall,
Find thy body by the wall!
poem by Matthew Arnold
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Swans sing before they die - 'twere no bad thing should certain persons die before they sing.
quote by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ladylove
There once was a lady by the name of Ladylove,
who was said to be a saint sent from above.
But no one knew just who she was;
a ghost indeed was she, was she.
She approached a swain one day, one sorrowful day;
stealing his heart as she ran away.
She left with a flutter in a moonlit still,
her beauty graces her for a splendid time.
She haste to a pond of midnight glow,
a lad soon followed as he watched her go.
She looked in his eyes with sadness there,
looking away as she's engulfed in light.
She step a foot in glistening water still,
meandering a swan not by will.
The boy he haste to grasp her hand,
letting his love guide as they shift to swans;
he a swan of black and she white,
they soar now into the ever moonlight.
The story now told of a love everlasting,
of two young swans, on moonlit casting.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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And So They Have Again Teased The Ugly Duckling
having forgotten the story
of the ugly duckling
here we are again retelling
it to children, that once
there was this ugly duck
who turned out to be the
most beautiful swan at the
end of the hopeless lines.
that we must stick to the
beautiful self that nature
gives us; it knows the ripe
season for a very beautiful
unfolding; that there is always
a perfect time for everyone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love A Duck
Mammy duck leaves the bank,
Baby ducks follow plop plop,
Daddy duck rear guard
Safe from the predators.
Sadly the little ones are
Easy pickings for the eels,
Grow little ones grow very fast,
Then you will be too big for the eels grasp.
Black swans arrive with six white little ones
At the spot where they all look for crumbs,
My poodle Beau goes close for a sniff
A black flying swan flies out, whoosh goes biff.
Beau scurries off with a really loud yelp
To run in between my legs for human help,
No more going near baby swans with daddy around
He will stick to spraying trees it’s safer he’s found.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Swans
Two swans sit alone on a lake
Looking so peaceful,
Poised on the tranquil waters.
The air around them is calm,
A gentle breeze wafting,
Gliding through their white feathers.
They are caressed by the pine scents
And the delicate balance
Of their surroundings.
The sky above is blue,
Almost cloudless and clear,
But a few pillows float overhead.
The trees stand tall beside the lake,
Watching the swans
Swim on the surface.
They swim majestically,
Beautifully,
In the recreational park.
Under their webbed feet,
Abandoned garbage sifts—
The collected lost trinkets of lazy people.
Twenty feet from the lake,
There is a parking lot
Filled with automobiles
With rust crusting on the hood
And near the synthetic rubber tires.
The people that own the cars
Are feeding the geese bleached white Wonder bread.
They leave their Coke bottles
And Doritos bags on the ground,
Ready to be carried away by the wind.
The swans watch the people.
Later, one of them
Will stick its neck
Into the plastic hole
Of a Coke bottle container
And choke
And choke
And choke
And choke.
It will die.
The other swan will watch,
Helpless and screaming,
Unable to do anything.
Some people will watch,
In awe,
Some excited.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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When I was very young I was the ugly duckling. I had a lot of complexes. My sister was wonderful and I was nothing.
quote by Nana Mouskouri
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Better an ugly duckling from your own village than a beauty from foreign parts.
The Black Swan
When the swans turned my sister into a swan
I would go to the lake, at night, from milking:
The sun would look out through the reeds like a swan,
A swan's red beak; and the beak would open
And inside there was darkness, the stars and the moon.
Out on the lake, a girl would laugh.
"Sister, here is your porridge, sister,"
I would call; and the reeds would whisper,
"Go to sleep, go to sleep, little swan."
My legs were all hard and webbed, and the silky
Hairs of my wings sank away like stars
In the ripples that ran in and out of the reeds:
I heard through the lap and hiss of water
Someone's "Sister . . . sister," far away on the shore,
And then as I opened my beak to answer
I heard my harsh laugh go out to the shore
And saw - saw at last, swimming up from the green
Low mounds of the lake, the white stone swans:
The white, named swans . . . "It is all a dream,"
I whispered, and reached from the down of the pallet
To the lap and hiss of the floor.
And "Sleep, little sister," the swan all sang
From the moon and stars and frogs of the floor.
But the swan my sister called, "Sleep at last, little sister,"
And stroked all night, with a black wing, my wings.
poem by Randall Jarrell
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Brave New World
Dying swans twisted wings, beauty not needed here
Lost my love, lost my life, in this garden of fear
I have seen many things, in a lifetime alone
Mother love is no more, bring this savage back home
Wilderness house of pain, makes no sense of it all
Close this mind dull this brain, messiah before his fall
What you see is not real, those who know will not tell
All is lost sold your souls to this brave new world
A brave new world, in a brave new world
A brave new world, in a brave new world
In a brave new world, a brave new world
In a brave new world, a brave new world
Dragon kings dying queens, where is salvation now
Lost my life lost my dreams, rip the bones from my flesh
Silent screams laughing here, dying to tell you the truth
You are planned and you are damned in this brave new world
A brave new world, in a brave new world
A brave new world, in a brave new world
In a brave new world, a brave new world
In a brave new world, a brave new world
A brave new world, in a brave new world
A brave new world, in a brave new world
In a brave new world, a brave new world
In a brave new world, a brave new world
Dying swans twisted wings, bring this savage back home
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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