The Balance Wheel
Where I waved at the sky
And waited your love through a February sleep,
I saw birds swinging in, watched them multiply
Into a tree, weaving on a branch, cradling a keep
In the arms of April sprung from the south to occupy
This slow lap of land, like cogs of some balance wheel.
I saw them build the air, with that motion birds feel.
Where I wave at the sky
And understand love, knowing our August heat,
I see birds pulling past the dim frosted thigh
Of Autumn, unlatched from the nest, and wing-beat
For the south, making their high dots across the sky,
Like beauty spots marking a still perfect cheek.
I see them bend the air, slipping away, for what birds seek.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Related quotes
Set them free..They will multiply..
Watching the birds is real fun,
no need dime, only the time,
colorful birds to colored birds,
chirping birds to singing birds,
flying birds to walking birds,
cunning birds to love birds,
Watching birds is just a lesson,
making mind to have a vision.
collect the twigs to make the nest,
one by one, they think the best,
choose the right tree,
just high and free,
Making the nest perfect,
without any single defect,
The birds toil together or alone,
all day long until it is done.
I bought two love birds,
that were kept in a cage.
Hung the cage under the balcony,
above the reach of dogs not felony.
chirping disturbed their sleep,
Nikko, the dog set them free.
Only two flew away,
but I have a few dozens now,
making their nests,
right in front of me, on the trees.
Watching the birds is real fun,
no need dime, only the time.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Birds Turning South
stacking wood,
chill morning air...
birds turning south.
axe and boots,
old truck loaded down....
birds turning south.
dreams and passions,
tied down and loaded,
birds turning south.
memory stained moments,
when the earth stoppt turning...
birds turning south.
now nothing more than
empty nests, a stray feather...
birds rurning south!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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SONNET: And This is Life!
Two Birds, a male and female met at last;
They found the tree on which to build their nest;
But soon, their little ones came rather fast;
The Birds hadn’t time for love-making or rest!
The Wind blew strongly; scorching was the Sun;
The Rain fell heavily upon their nest;
Rearing the young ones was both strain and fun;
Even a Snake came to their nest as guest1
But God helped them to find the worms for food;
And Spring replaced the Winter’s freezing cold;
The Birds laboured all life as best as could;
Their young ones turned adults; and they grew old!
When Death came like a robber in the night,
Both Birds never offered the slightest fight!
poem by John Celes
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When the birds fly
When the birds fly
the mind opens its eye
the heart looks up to the sky
the birds fly.
The birds fly south
the ear opens its mouth
the nose sees summer
the kids they are playing out...
When the birds fly
we dream our words dont die.
Reborn with a babys cry
the birds fly leaving stars
they stay in the night,
we are the birds
we escape to the light.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Silver Birds
Silver birds
getting ready to fly
red, white and blue
it's our pride in the sky
Silver birds
above the clouds
making waves
making us proud
Silver birds
shining bright
into the evening
into the night
Silver birds
amongst the rest
flying strong
to be the best
Silver birds
coming round the bend
getting ready to land
out of their descend
Silver birds
representing the states
with the colors of freedom
at all their gates.
Charlie Vergara
11.21.2007
2576
poem by White Tiger
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Spring
Birds' love and birds' song
Flying here and there,
Birds' songand birds' love
And you with gold for hair!
Birds' songand birds' love
Passing with the weather,
Men's song and men's love,
To love once and forever.
Men's love and birds' love,
And women's love and men's!
And you my wren with a crown of gold,
You my queen of the wrens!
You the queen of the wrens --
We'll be birds of a feather,
I'll be King of the Queen of the wrens,
And all in a nest together.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Birds On The Wires
Birds on the wires
though I know not your name
are you there to tell me
that spring will soon come?
Birds on the wires
though I know not your name
have you already chosen the tree
where you will make a nest
for your eggs?
Birds on the wires
can you see me from there?
How I wish
I have wings like you
so I can fly high enough
to see from above
the beauty of life
below.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Free
Birds flying free
where can you be going?
I just wish knowing
would help me be free.
Flying south in winter,
no more cold for you.
Ample berries on the trees
under skies so blue.
Flying north in summer
where the nests you'll build
where twigs and feathers
will do fine
'til your nest is filled.
Birds flying free
never will there be
escape from the landscape
like yours, for me.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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My Heart Is Home To The Birds
My heart is home to the birds
Because God made my heart for the birds
And I am happy that the birds live inside of my heart
Because my heart is always warm and the birds will never die inside my Heart or they will never have to fly south to the winter
Also the birds will always be safe inside of my heart
Because nobody will be able to harm the birds
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Birds of Spring
Birds of spring they
bring on so many things
sounds they send
to each other,
that only they
can understand
in their sweet
cheerful harmony.
Sweet smell in
the air this
beautiful april day
listening to these creatures.
Taking in the warmth
of the sun that
is so overdue, blue
skies beauty to the eye.
Birds in flight
from one tree
to the other, getting
ready to produce life.
Cool breezes this
day so fine to hear
birds of spring echoing
music to my ear.
Birds of spring
to many to mention you all,
Robbins, Wrens and Cardinals
or a few I see, oh so beautiful.
To hear their chirping
wondering what they're saying
at this moment
will sit here for awhile.
Sounds this day
so relaxing is it
to listen to these
birds of spring.
wrote 4-3-07
My Baby Bird
Is it true birds fly south for the winter
Wish i was a bird for just one day
I would fly to and perch on your window
My baby bird flew away
I love you my baby bird
But i had to set you free
I watched you glide with the wind high above the trees
Maybe i could be a boat and sail to your shore
I miss my baby bird
So next winter i will move south
I will look for you in the sky
You are no longer a baby bird as you have grown
Do you now have baby birds of your own
I long to see you again my baby bird my best friend
I wish i was a bird for just one day
I would sore sore so high
Wishing is all i can do for now
How is my baby bird
Do you miss me for i miss you
Bye my baby but not goodbye
Birds cheer others
Birds ae flying
Do not shout or beat gong
Birds are not pests.
Birds cheer others
Do not pollute atmosphere
Do not cut down trees
Birds are settling.
Take care of the birds
Life take care of you
Take care of you cheerfully
Birds are flying
Life is smiling.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Commanding The Enemy
In these ways we command the enemy to be cut
Away from messages to do with God;
These foul people cheerfully seek birds of conversation
To do their talking according to the ways of an action.
One bird flies to a branch of gold,
And another flees to the branches of silver,
And another reaches the very height of the tree.
The ways of the enemy are above us in power,
Relentless and swaying like a giant tree of birds,
Competing and never deserting, towards flight.
The real trek staggered the birds of conversation,
For those who seek to betray the community are lost.
poem by Naveed Akram
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While The Birds Sing At The Top Of The Tree
Rivers flow lonely to the sea,
When the sunset is coming down,
While the birds sing at the top of the tree.
The garden is flourishing in the spring,
Little pieces of the rain fall on the edge of the street,
While the birds sing at the top of the tree.
The cold in the hills,
The forest still sleeps in silence
While the birds sing at the top of the tree.
Love always falls and rises,
Leaving happiness, broken hearts and tears,
While the birds sing at the top of the tree.
poem by Lindemberg Pereira da Silva
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The Nicest Season For One To Die
The nicest Season for one to die must surely be the Spring
When the Parklands wear their Wildflowers and song birds pipe and sing
And young birds are chirping in their nests and the sparrows all the day
Are busy under the house eaves weaving their nests of hay.
If I'm not burned to ashes then why not bury me
In that old graveyard on the hill preferably by a tree
Where in Spring birds will build their nest and sing their songs above where I lay
Though what happens to your remains when you are dead doesn't matter some do say.
We all belong to Mother Nature and to her we must return sometime
The reaper takes the young and old and those in their life's
prime
And since I too must die I hope 'twill be when flowers are in full bloom
In the prime of Spring when the air scent sweetly of Nature's own perfume.
Bury me in the Graveyard on the hill where peace is to be found
Beside a tree where birds nest and sing content in their home ground
A quiet place free of man made noise when Spring is in the air
In Nature's bosom I will rest beyond any living care.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Scar Tissue
Scar tissue that I wish you saw
Sarcastic mister know it all
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you 'cause
With the birds I'll share
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view
Push me up against the wall
Young Kentucky girl in a push-up bra
Fallin' all over myself
To lick your heart and taste your health 'cause
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view...
Blood loss in a bathroom stall
Southern girl with a scarlet drawl
Wave good-bye to ma and pa 'cause
With the birds I'll share
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view
Soft spoken with a broken jaw
Step outside but not to brawl
Autumn's sweet we call it fall
I'll make it to the moon if I have to crawl and
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view...
Scar tissue that I wish you saw
Sarcastic mister know it all
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you 'cause
With the birds I'll share
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view...
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers from Californication
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Treecreepers
Elusive birds them one don't often see
Treecreepers build their cup shaped nest of bark behind loose bark of tree
From predators concealed and hidden away
And pinkish spotted eggs the female lay.
Shy woodland birds of humans they show respectful fear
They climb tree trunks in search of insects and when human to them venture near
Of the tree trunk they disappear to the other side
Of watchers eyes they'd much prefer to hide.
They will never be renowned as birds of song
Though their familiar chirps one hardly could get wrong
The ornithologists and bird watchers on studying them don't spend much of their time
And they seldom have inspired the poets to rhyme.
From the day they leave the nest until the day they die
From ground up they climb the tree and then to the next tree fly
To climb again in search of invertebrates such things they like to eat
They must have great strength in their tiny feet
In wooded places they like to reside
And from predators their cup shaped nest they hide
Shy little birds when human to them venture near
To the other side of the tree trunk they disappear.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Birds Who Sing The Same Song
Once upon the hunter's lifetime
He entered the forest with his hound
As he waited for animal senses,
He heard the same sound
The sound came from above
It was the sound of birds
Though they were very different,
They had similar words
The birds were of two colors
They were either brown or green
They sang on top of their voices
The song of a queen
First, the hunter watched them sing
He did not understand the words
He set a trap on the tree
And caught some green birds
He brought them home
Thinking he has caught something good
After preparing the meal,
He realizes their meat is not right for food
Again, he watched them sing
He did not understand the words
He set a trap on the tree
And caught brown birds
He brought them home
Thinking the browns would not taste the same
After preparing the meal,
He realizes the meat was worse in the bowl of shame
He now understood the words
And watches them as they sing
The same song, one meaning
A song to get trapped in a ring
The birds sing the same song
A song of the soul
They sing in a competition
They compete for a common goal
They look attractive on the tree
They sing the same song
Understanding their words is the key
They sing the same song
They sound very kind
They sing the same song
They have a motive in mind
They sing the same song
They sing and fly from the leaves to the stem
But the hunter desires none of them
The hunter would now find other creatures
With the best of all features
Because the birds sing the same song
poem by Mark Nyamekye Boadi
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Their Flight South
the tree bent by summer's storms,
prepares to shed her leaves.
and all signs of life,
leave branch and nook,
as beauty is revealed.
the weathered branch
stirred by the wind,
scratches against my chest.
sunlight weeps while shadows play,
and the sap drips with want.
the tongue of desire
wrapped around the balls of longing,
the dialogue of touching begins!
and winter's snows wait in perfect awe,
as the birds begin their flight south!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Somewhere Over The Rainbow
Somewhere over the rainbow
(h. arlen/e.y. harburgh)
Somewhere over the rainbow way up high
Theres a land that Ive heard of once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true
Someday I wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
Thats where you find me
Somewhere over the rainbow blue birds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why cant i
(instrumental)
Somewhere over the rainbow blue birds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why cant i
If happy little blue birds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why, cant i
song performed by by Lea Salonga
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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