Tweet
He fell from the mango tree nearby
In the nest where three others lay
After the rain, their chirping cry
I heard in the morning at break of day.
A few days old they must have been
Eyes still shut, and such tiny wings
Scarcely with feathers on their skin
But they had a strong will to go on living!
I took the nest and kept it inside
Quite safe in a handy fruit basket
From my cats, the birds I tried to hide
As they heard the noisy chirping racket.
Two of the chicks failed to survive
The rains made them wet in the night
But the other two I had kept alive
Named him 'Tweet' and his brother 'Knight'.
We fed them bread crumbs in a toothpick
The chicks ate the meals, all was alright
But Knight was a bully and not so meek
Renamed him 'Joker' - oh what a sight.
Joker would pound on his brother Tweet
So I had to keep them apart
Everyday their chirping would greet
Good morning to me with all their heart.
Tweet was the only one that remained
For birds do get colds and die
He taught me lessons I had gained
Animals care, without tears they cry.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Abstraction Fo The Word Chirp....
i hear birds chirping
early morning
on those trees
clouds arrive, light
spreads,
green becomes too green
in the fields of
life,
i hear birds chirping
sweet to my ear
i give it priority
abstract. delet morning
move out clouds from the picture
double click green fields
focus on life
delet birds
add volume to chirping
it is all chirping now
just chirping
chirping chirping
the essence of chirp.
i have abstracted it from
everything else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rockin Robin
(thomas)
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Tweet, tweet, twiddley de
He rocks in the treetops all the day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and a-singing this song
Every little bird, every little bee
Loves to hear the robin go tweet-tweet-tweet
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Yeah go rockin robin, really gonna rock tonight
Every little swallow, every chick-a-dee
Every little bird in the old oak tree
Wise old owl, big black crow
Put out their wings singing go bird go
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Yeah go rockin robin, really gonna rock tonight
The chief bird standing at the birdbath stand
Taught him how to do the bop and it was grand
Start goin steady and bless my soul,
He out-bopped the buzzard and the oriole
He rocks in the treetops all the day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and a-singing this song
Every little bird, every little bee
Loves to hear the robin go tweet-tweet-tweet
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Yeah go rockin robin, really gonna rock tonight
Break
The chief bird standing at the birdbath stand
Taught him how to do the bop and it was grand
Start goin steady and bless my soul,
He out-bopped the buzzard and the oriole
He rocks in the treetops all the day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and a-singing this song
Every little bird, every little bee
Loves to hear the robin go tweet-tweet-tweet
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Yeah go rockin robin, really gonna rock tonight
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Tweet, tweet, twiddley de
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Billy The Mongolian Whistler
Billy the Mongolian whistler
came to England in 1963.
His whistling was so outstanding,
they put him up a tree.
Now Billy had a bird phobia
especially when they went tweet.
So putting him up a tree was thoughtless
if his phobia he had to beat.
As the first daylight was breaking
and the birds began to tweet.
Billy the Mongolian whistler
instead of whistling began to tweet.
Billy was so embarrassed,
down from the tree he came
and Billy the Mongolian whistler
has never been the same again.
A psychiatrist was called in for Billy,
to see if they could put him right.
But he had returned to the desert
where there isn’t a bird in sight.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The 'tweet Tweet' Call Of Drongo
the 'tweet tweet' call
&
the 'tweet tweet' call 'in pairs'
from the sweet throat
of the split-tailed black dra[o]ngo
in bold postures on slender branches
matches the whispering calls
of a love in tender dreams
on a moon-flooded night!
what an aquiline shape
with a lengthy forking tail
god has blessed this bird with!
a pleasing feast for eyes
as it unfolds and tucks in
its graceful wings fanning designs
in short, sudden and swift flights
composure calm and bearing elegant
intermittent notes in melody soaked,
piped through the honeyed throat,
a beauty carved out of a glossy black!
o how many are your modulations,
each one competing with the rest
in flooding my heart and soul
in every musical excellence!
you have become my inseparable companion
amidst all morning glories!
and the music and melody of my life!
-s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Industrialization
an early morning treat
to the chirping sounds of the birds
the engines arrive in the form of the bus
the tractors and the caterpillars
the birds fly away carrying their songs
the chirping sounds fade
the buzz of the day is in the machine
paving, drilling, cementing, screaming.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rockin Robin
He rocks in the tree tops all day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and singing his song
All the little birdies on jaybird street
Love to hear the robin go tweet tweet tweet
Chorus :
Rockin robin, rock rock
Rockin robin
Blow rockin robin
cause were really gonna rock tonight
Every little swallow, every chick-a-dee
Every little bird in the tall oak tree
The wise old owl, the big black crow
Flappin their wings singing go bird go
Chorus
Pretty little raven at the bird-band stand
Told them how to do the bob and it was grand
They started going steady and bless my soul
He out-bopped the buzzard and the oriol
He rocks in the tree tops all day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and singing his song
All the little birdies on jaybird street
Love to hear the robin go tweet tweet tweet
Chorus
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Dream Regarding The Two Beautiful Birds
i
how do you get to
hit two beautiful birds
with a single
stone?
ii
or how to make these two
beautiful birds to get to stay
beside my window sill?
iii
how do i make these two beautiful birds
happier?
shall i make a bird house on a tree
beside my house
and give them grains every morning of the day?
iv
how do i make this dream about two beautiful birds
into a reality? they keep on chirping inside my mind
wanting to be given the realistic form of wings
like some eyebrows
wings flapping just above my eyes
the mountains my cheeks
my mind the skies
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bustle of Thick Traffic
To no one in particular,
Did I say hello to this morning.
And I heard the birds chirping,
Above the rush and bustle of thick traffic!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Cool Cats
Three cool cats,
Three cool cats
Are coming up in a beat up car,
Spitting up a lift of candy bar
Talking on about how sharp they are.
Three cool cats.
Three cool chicks
Are walking down the street
Swinging their hips,
Splitting up a bag of potatoe chips
I think cool cats really did flip.
Three cool chicks
Three cool chicks.
Well up came that first cool cat,
He said: man look at that.
Man, do you see what i see?
Well i want that middle chick
I want that little chick.
Hey man save once chick for me.
Well three cool chicks.
Three cool chicks.
Well they love like
Angels from up above
And three cool cats
Really fell in love.
But three cool chicks
Made three fools out of
Three cool cats.
Three cool cats.
Well up came that first cool cat,
He said: man look at that.
Man do you see what i see?
Well i want that middle chick,
I want that little chick.
Hey man, save one chick for me.
Three cool chicks.
Three cool chicks.
They look like
Angels from up above
And three cool cats
Really fell in love.
And three cool chicks
Made three fools out of
Three cool cats.
Three cool cats.
Three cool cats.
Three cool cats.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A New Day Dawning
aaa new day dawning
i wake up in the morning to see the
beginning of a new day dawning
some days are bright while others are dull
but regardless of the weather
i thank god for such a sight
the daylight penetrates the darkness
and soon it will be light
birds begin chirping in a nearby tree
while others are soring over the sea
while looking at the morning sky
i see the sun penetrating the fog and dew
a duck quakes in the cove
i see the fog lifting off the water
and the water begins to ripple from the morning
breeze
i am content and thank god for giving me the
pleasure of seeing a new day dawning
author hewitt hardy april 5 2004
poem by Hewitt Hardy
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My Mornings Here
in this sleepy town
where there is always rain
i thrive on the songs
of little birds
their notes chirping inside
my mind
i feed them grains of poetry
and they appear healthy
i grow some trees where
they nest and lay eggs of ideas
in this sleepy town
my burdens are light
my canvass is the darkness of the night
my hope is a star
hanging on the tree without leaves
a cocoon opens and gives birth
to another yellow butterfly
it flutters and finds a white daisy
and they kiss
i watch wrapped by the rays of the morning sun
i ponder if this will ever end
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Boring Day
as he opens the window
there is only the shadow of leaves on the trees
on a gray background
it is twilight, midway between night and day
sounds of a cold wind from the forest
the rooster crows and some chirping birds
you sit and gaze through the window
light comes in
this happens everyday and there is nothing significant
after 49 years, and this time a hole is bored inside your heart
you fear that love is gone.
that the birds do not chirp musical notes
the wind much colder now and you shiver
light seeps in trickles like rain on your wrinkled skin
it is the same morning, and it will be same mornings all over again.
you do not move. You let time go and your hands are frozen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Early Morning.....
this is what happened
that morning all i heard was the sound of chirping birds
haggling for a home upon those crown of trees
luscious leaves firm branches
tarring twigs
it might be an illusion since when the morning light came in profusion
upon those grounds
there is nothing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring
Good morning dear daddy,
Good morning dear mum,
Good morning dear Teddy,
It looks the spring has come.
Awakened at the dawn
My dream at once has gone.
I’ve heard the song of starling,
Our feathered friends are coming.
The sparrows are chirping,
The titmouse is whistling,
The starling pours the trills,
The warmth of spring it feels.
The magic sounds fill the world
The drops from roofs are pearled.
These drops are ringing,
The whole world is singing.
The sparrow’s song cares the ear,
Its sounds are magic and fair,
And here was my thought:
On its wings the spring was brought.
Birds are scurrying around
For a nest to be found.
All around is in the motion
Seeking for the devotion.
The starlings rise into the sky.
I also wish to fly.
My heart began to think,
The sun began to wink.
***
The days are getting longer and brighter.
A lot of time for a poet and a writer.
A lot of time to think everything over
And…….to become…….A Doer!
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
March 20th,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Twitter Of Nostalgia
today my heart echoes
the collective chirping of domestic sparrows
who woke us up each morning and
brought us homeward in the evenings...
hop and skip like playing hopscotch
she would enter through the door
turn her neck in all dierections
as if to greet the guests(?)
sometimes she would slip into
the room with her characteristic ease
through the window bars with bits and odds
tightly clutched in her beak to reach the
roof of our rented tiles and
we would hurry to switch off the whirring fan
for years she and her friends woke us
every morning with the tiny wings flapping
and the small voice box twittering
every evening the twitter would drive
us homeward from our rustic games
every summer afternoon was a spectacle
as she would swoop down or come hopping
to hang on the edge of the small earthern pot
dad would arrange for the winged friends
they would take their fill and flip-falp the wings
in the small puddle as if it's nobody's business
in rains they would settle under the
slope of the roof with watered feathers
looking still browner...
we grew up amidst their chirping
sometimes in the afternoons
a ticktack would wake us from
our siesta, my little wings
amused at the other in the mirror
every cozy corner, including a book rack
was befitting enough to breed her clan
eating like a sparrow, grandma would say
as we snatched tidbits from their hidden counters
they're so much part of our lives
making the roof their home
at times a small ball of cotton
or a handful of grass or an egg or a baby sparrow
would dropp on the floor or on the beds
how my pillow would soak my tears as i
every night recalled the tale of a gentle sparrow
that lived in a cow-dung home with the proud crow
as the neighbour living in a nest of twigs
when the rain washed away the sparrow home
the crow refused to give her any shelter...
i would imagine how the lonely bird
flew alone with the babies trailing after in that rain...
i would sob uncontrollably...
where are you my sparrow?
'what's this picika gola! '
('picika is sparrow...'gola' is mischief)
we would be shouted at
when our voices lost control
and when we shifted to an urban habitat
how we missed the twitter and the chirping
we all silently carried them concealed secure
in the several folds of our hearts as we now
wake up each morning to a jagged silence
ringing loud from our empty hearts...
where are you dear friend?
some seventeen years ago she hoisted
our spirits when on a fine morning when i was
feeding my toddler she hopped into the room
and made sure i fed him proper...
'tha! ' the little boy would greet her
with food filled mouth with the twinkle of
a toddler that reflected in my eyes
what time sense you've, my winged friend!
pesticides robbed her of her food chain
deforestation deprived her of her habitate
supermarkets stole away her grain
concrete jungles cut her off from everything else
modern day life, communication networks
and the ensuing radiation pronounced
a death-sentence...
whenever brute force is applied
on the innocent and the hapless
'picika meeda brahmaastram'
(a thunder bolt employed on a sparrow)
goes the idiom in my mother tongue
and that's exactly the injustice
meted out to these meek creatures
my lovely little sparrow
hidden secure in our hearts
how much i long to see you, hear you...
tell me, will you gain your wings back
if i offer my heart on your altar
to fill the world with
your twitter and chirping?
20mar2010
21.55hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nest of Love
One night, the rain drizzled,
The thunder trembled window panes,
The lightning fenced,
And the coco in yard its head did lose.
The trunk stood in silence,
As a question mark,
Until the brown birds
Came the top their nest to make.
Sights out my eyes filter:
The birds flutter their wings,
One rounds, and the other
Lowers and cedes,
In the morns wet with vapour,
Until the stir of red open tender beaks.
One even, the west wind
Pushed the trunk down.
Chicks two fell onto the sand,
Just a wriggle, then still in the down.
The birds the sky hovered,
Their shrieks tore the layers of night.
Sleepless, in vain I tried
To learn their art of love so deep and sweet.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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A Little Bird
a little brown bird
walks on the ground
hops like a kangaroo
unable to fly
it fell from the tree
from a nest
on wings still not fit
for flying
i try to pick it up
and i hear a bird chirping
watching
oh, a mother
perhaps...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem Tree
The poem tree is a very safe haven,
for birds and fowl, a hawk, a raven, or
a little barn owl.The tree could be a
silhouette, or the finest place to raise
your pet.The poem tree could bear
the fruit of life.Such as apples and
pears, with morning dew.A wonderful
place to play the flute.The poem tree
could have a nest.Giving birds with
eggs, a place to rest.It could capture
a kite who someone lost, or be bitten
by the morning frost.It could capture
a balloon, which went astray, or drop
all its leaflets by the bay.The poem
tree could have a lollipop, or maybe
a candycane, umbrella branches, to
stop the rain.The tree could protect
all animals, from an oncoming flood,
and keep all the tree bugs out of the
mud.Above the tree the sun will shine.
Home for a raccoon, or a porcupine..
The Poem Tree by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2011.All rights reserved.
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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