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Magpiety

The same and not quite the same, I walked through oak forests
Amazed that my Muse, Mnemosyne,
Has in no way diminished my amazement.
A magpie was screeching and I said: Magpiety?
What is magpiety? I shall never achieve
A magpie heart, a hairy nostril over the beak, a flight
That always renews just when coming down,
And so I shall never comprehend magpiety.
If however magpiety does not exist
My nature does not exist either.
Who would have guessed that, centuries later,
I would invent the question of universals?

poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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On Hearing A White Backed Magpie Singing In The Rain

The white backed magpie singing and skies so gloomy gray
And magpie does sound happy on such a gloomy day
But why is magpie happy what reason for his joy
All in the depths of Winter this morning in July? .

The rain come down in torrents and dark clouds o'er the hill
And freshening winds blow colder the breath of winter chill
The raindrops freely running adown the window pane
And still the magpie singing and whistling in the rain.

Why is the magpie singing what reason for his cheer
On this cold day in winter the wettest of the year?
The wettest day of Winter the wind blow cold and strong
And merry magpie singing his distinct happy song.

The white backed magpie piping his happy melody
On wettest day in Winter on rain soaked blackwood tree
And I ponder the question the simple question why?
The magpie feel so happy on wet day in July.

poem by Francis Duggan
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3. Unfair Trade

The magpie had opened a jeweller’s
With his liking for silver and gold
Went shopping for stock in the sunlight
Where it shone till his beak took a hold

He wasn’t too keen on the rubies
Though a diamond could shine pretty bright
A gold pocket watch with it’s chain on
Filled magpie with such great delight

Alas his shop put up the shutters
Poor magpie to jail now has gone
Raven police said stocks not paid for
And all got claimed back one by one

poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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You exist now only in my heart

You exist now only in my heart...

You exist now only in my heart,
An ode to my internal defeat
A fading memory from an eternal realm,
A time gone by and incomplete.

You exist now only in my heart,
A message which truly proclaims
Your very essence and nature changed,
speaking softly your innumerable true names.

You exist now only in my heart,
As the wind carries my thoughts of you
Toward the angels standing in the clouds,
Innocently fairing me to bid you adieu.

You exist now only in my heart,
In the nature of who you've been,
But now, you are more than I'll ever know,
as I walk along this grassy knoll, ever so green.

You exist now only in my heart...

poem by Chad Fisher
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The Magpie and the Young Dove

On the ground they struck each other
with their wings out stretched.
But the dove was so much smaller
and couldn’t evade the magpie’s pecks.

As feathers flew, it held down the dove
with its powerful grasping claws.
Once, twice, three times, it pecked,
and again several times more.

The tired dove’s resistance vanished
as the magpie took one hop back.
It stood admiring the results of its conflict
before making its final attack.

This brief encounter was nearly over,
the dove turned to face the magpie,
but then a dog approached the scene
and the magpie flew into the sky.

Keeping a close watch over its prey,
it waited in a nearby tree.
The dog lost interest and sauntered away,
giving the magpie opportunity.

One hop then two, it approached for the kill,
but the dog returned to save the day.
This time the magpie didn’t come back,
and the dove recovered to fly away.

poem by Orlando Belo
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There are tons of people who are late to trends by nature and adopt a trend after it's no longer in fashion. They exist in mutual funds. They exist in clothes. They exist in cars. They exist in lifestyles.

quote by Jim Cramer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Birds Wished To Be Friendly

1 Two birds wished to be friendly

I was the messenger winged
Hither thither cuckoo and magpie
Two birds wished to be friendly

'Come here, o' dear, come here'
coo~~coo~~coo~~~in rising notes
Two birds wished to be friendly
I was the messenger winged

2 Hither thither cuckoo and magpie

Two birds wished to be friendly
I was the messenger winged
Hither thither cuckoo and magpie

Warbling, whistling, fluty trilling
Magpie just couldn't let me read
Hither thither cuckoo and magpie
Two birds wished to be friendly

3 Two birds wished to be friendly

I was the messenger plucked punished
Gloomed cuckoo, confused magpie
Two birds wished to be friendly

Reading failing, messaging failing
Loamy homey cuckoo angry with me
Two birds wished to be friendly
I was the messenger plucked punished

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Beak Kind To Birds!

Beak kind to birds both near and far,
Both high and low as well...
To me, each bird's a superstar!
In fact, to me, they're swell!
Beak kind to birds and show you care
With titbits now and then...
And watch with wonder as they share
Their breakfast once again!
Beak kind and keep your cats at bay...
Else feeding birds take flight!
It's nicer seeing birds at play
Than watching them take fright!
Beak kind to birds, give them their space
So they may co-exist...
For none on Earth can take their place,
So they'd be sorely missed!
Beak kind to birds, they'll flock to you -
They're all our feathered friends!
It doesn't matter, black or blue...
Beak kind - 'cos it makes sense!

poem by Denis Martindale (2003)
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Time does not exist

time does not exist
we made it up...
imagine you ask someone
for the time and the
reply 'time is a fabrication of
the mind to cope with change.'
you'd think them to
be strange.
but the more you think about it
the more sense it makes.
time does not exist
when you finally comprehend it
everything else becomes a lie,
science will make no sense
history will not be in the past
time does not exist
what else doesn't exist...?

poem by Jeremy Rascon
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Brought From Beyond

The magpie and the bowerbird, its odd
predilection unheard of by Marco Polo
when he came upon, high in Badakhshan,
that blue stone’s

embedded glint of pyrites, like the dance
of light on water, or of angels
(the surface tension of the Absolute)
on nothing,

turned, by processes already ancient,
into pigment: ultramarine, brought from
beyond the water it’s the seeming
color of,

and of the berries, blooms and pebbles
finickingly garnishing an avian
shrine or bower with the rarest hue
in nature,

whatever nature is: the magpie’s eye for
glitter from the clenched fist of
the Mesozoic folding: the creek sands,
the mine shaft,

the siftings and burnishings, the ingot,
the pagan artifact: to propagate
the faith, to find the metal, unearth it,
hoard it up,

to, by the gilding of basilicas,
transmute it: O magpie, O bowerbird,
O Marco Polo and Coronado, where do
these things, these

fabrications, come from—the holy places,
ark and altarpiece, the aureoles,
the seraphim—and underneath it all
the howling?

poem by Amy Clampitt
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For July A Rare Sunny Day

For July a rare sunny day
The sun peep through the clouds of gray
And the nest building magpie does sing
Five weeks from the first day of Spring.

Tiny frogs sing in the watery drain
Swollen by recent heavy rain
And the song of the blackbird I hear
Familiar, melodious and clear.

Late Winter a nice time of year
One knows that the Spring it is near
The birds know it is time to breed
And the call of Nature they do heed.

Mild sunshine with a gentle breeze
And magpies piping on the gum trees
And the magpie larks calling pee wee
In the sunlit park by the sea.

The sun shining in the gray sky
Such a pleasant day for July
The birds sense the coming of Spring
Nature is such an amazing thing.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Good Morning Mr Magpie

'Good Morning Mr Magpie'
She saluted, then returned to her grounded
fact-based faith in her own impersonal reality.
Dismissal of her own superstitions,
seemed impossible.
She'd put it down to hard-ass habits
and the cudgels of conditioning
with which we all are kneaded.

Meanwhile in the treetops,
the wood pigeons were rallying.
The magpie's attention saw no salutes,
just a glint of an egg in a ray from the sun.

He cared not who had moved the branch
that let the sunlight through.
He cared not how, an avalanche
had spawned a breeze that this way blew.
He cared not how the leaves had parted
just as he had chanced to fly
through places where the pigeons darted,
inviting his unwelcomed eye.
He held no concept of the quandry
filling his spectator's mind.
She paused, when pegging out her laundry,
and branded Nature, so unkind.

Cold coveter of shiny things, just as so many men...
'Good Morning Mr Magpie', she saluted once again.

poem by Hola Mentirosa
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From Our Every Walk In Nature

From our every walk in Nature we learn every day
And though many of her secrets from us she hides away
She often does surprise us she always surprises me
And every day in Nature there's something new to see
Some of the birds of Nature we know them by their song
The white backed magpie and the blackbird and the pied currawong
Sparrows chirping on the bushes as on the path you walk along
Yes even by their voices one should not get them wrong
I've learned much from Nature and my wonder of her grow
And yet so little of her ways I know that I do know
Yet in my every walk in Nature and they've not been a few
I never fail to feel amazed and learn something new
The honeyeaters chirping on the flowering bushes by the pathway
And for a walk in Nature it is a pleasant day.

poem by Francis Duggan
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I do not exist

I do not exist,

I do not breath,

I do not bleed

I do not hurt

I do not exist in your eyes,

not anymore,

I am far, far away, like

the stars that don't exist,

but still they shine and

you can see them far away,

but there not alive, there not

really there. Yes I am not there,

not for you, I do

not want your pity.

I do not want my broken smile

painted in your thoughts.

I do not exist, I am not there,

do not look for me, I do not

exist, I am not there, I am not there

poem by Elenushka Toledo
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The Best Day Of The Year

This morning very early I heard the magpie sing
And suddenly it dawned on me it's the first day of Spring
The dawning of September and on the stringybark
The white backed magpie whistled sweet music in the dark.

The first day of September the best day of the year
That is if you are living in the Southern Hemisphere
For Spring the Season of beauty and of greenery and youth
A time of bloom and grass growth when seedlings take to root

The Spring came in at midnight from places far away
She crept in through the darkness for her annual three months stay
And magpie he woke early on the stringybark tree
And for the welcome visitor piped his sweetest melody.

This morning very early before the dawn of day
The magpie welcomed the visitor from places far away
And the first day of September the best day of the year
That is if you are living in the Southern Hemisphere.

poem by Francis Duggan
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If You Don't Exist

then who will exist
for you?
who will record
who you are and what you
have done?
nobody.
nobody.
nobody
but you.
because just like you they also
think that they don't exist
come to think of it
if all of us do not exist at all
then who exists?
nothing
nothing
nothing
it is simply absurd when the world
moves and no one is
existing

i don't exist too.
because i have learned
to live.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Ant

A sixty feet long ant
With a hat on its head,
That doesn’t exist, that doesn’t exist.

An ant pulling a cart
Full of penguins and ducks
That doesn’t exist, that doesn’t exist.

An ant speaking French,
Speaking Latin and Javanese,
That doesn’t exist, that doesn’t exist.

Hey! Why not?

poem by Robert Desnos from Storysongs (Chantefables) (1945), translated by Dan CostinaÅŸ
Submitted by Dan CostinaÅŸ
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On Hearing A Magpie Sing

The magpie sings in the bright sunshine of a humid and a warm day
Perhaps he is telling us something that rain is not that far away
For birds do sing in changing weather on a very warm day when birdsong you hear
You know there's a change in the weather that thundery weather is near.

Birds and animals are more sensitive to Nature than we are since nearer to Nature they live
They pollinate plants in their feeding from Nature they take and to her other things give
They are more Nature friendly than we are and on her resources less of a drain
The huge increase in the human population on Mother Nature does place a huge strain.

So little I know about Nature and so much of her I'd love to know
I fell in love with her as a schoolboy now that seems a long time ago
A wise old lady once did tell me that when out of Season the birds sing
That they detect a change in the weather Nature is a marvellous thing.

The magpie he sings in the sunshine on a warm day of thirty degrees
In his song he is trying to tell me that he senses the rain in the breeze
He can detect changes in Nature of her ways he knows far more than I
In his song he tells me that rain is not distant though there's not a rain cloud in the sky.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Political Rule By Triumph

so many ways
exist to achieve
political ends

so many truths
only one counts
ultimate victories

truth no truths
can ever exist
except victor histories

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Embellished By Desire

Does a greatness exist,
To remind itself that's what it is?
Or is it what it is because it is convinced...
A greatness has been achieved?
From its perspective.

Although the quality of it,
Has long been diminished...
By those seeking clarity and definition!
And not deluded interpretations,
Fantasized and embellished by desire.

An isolated slice of a whole...
May wish to call itself anything it chooses.
But it can not exist as it is by itself exclusively.

One day it does awaken...
To realize the foolishness of this!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I believe in the cosmos. All of us are linked to the cosmos. Look at the sun. If there is no sun, then we cannot exist. So nature is my god. To me, nature is sacred. Trees are my temples and forests are my cathedrals.

quote by Mikhail Gorbachev
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