I Feed The Birds and Play With Them
I was tired and exhausted
I felt as if
There is nothing in the world
Except work
I went to the nearby garden
Saw an old man
Feeding the birds with seeds
He smiled when a bird
Came near him
Picked one seed
He Laughed
When another came
Picked another seed
I did not understand
His smiling and laughing
I asked him
Why he was so happy?
He replied in measured words
Everybody works
To feed himself
When you feed others
It makes you happy
You have satisfaction
Of living for others
I feel fresh
And without stress
I understood
What he mean't
Feeding the birds
And playing with them
Has now become
My usual routine
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Bird's Song
some bird's seeds
on a platter in the garden
after a short moment
a bird takes its pick
and soon three, four,
five birds came and
they made some sort
of choir songs as
thanksgiving.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love....my Dear...
This is the garden
where yellow daffodils bloom throughout summer
There are trees around here
where birds build their nests
Birds sing and play
feeding on sesame seeds
in a small house i build for them
hanging on the
gutter
This is a cozy room my dear
where i undress before you
without feeling
any shame
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If Only I Were a Bird
If only I were a bird,
my days would be forever happy
Chirp from tree to tree
And live worry-free.
If only I were a bird,
I would fly from
Cyprus to Chile
and have a tour on earth.
If only I were a bird,
I would dropp fruit seeds
Hoping a fruit tree will grow
For other birds to take shade.
If only I were a bird
I won't be
worrying about work
Bills, car, or clothes
poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Still Smiling........
Smiled When Mother Took Me Into Her Arms For The First Time,
Smiled When Saw World Outside The Hospital For The First Time,
Smiled Whenever Went To School,
Smiled Even Being Laughed At....
And Called A Fool....
Smiled When Stood First In The Class,
Smiled When I Wasn't Misunderstood..... At Last!
Smiled When My Poem Was Said Wow!
Smiled When Realised That Only Day Is Today....
And Time Is Now......
Smiled When Got My 'True' Love,
Smiled As I Always Felt We Are Two Doves,
Smiled Even When Came To Know He's Not Mine,
Smiled Even When He Married My Friend.....
And Raised A Toast Of Wine,
Smiled Even When Lost Every Hope,
Smiled Even When Wasn't Able To Cope,
Smiled Even When Knew My End Is Near,
Smiled And Enjoyed Cutting My Nerve.......
No Fear...............
Smiled At Every Moment Of My Life,
Whenever, Wherever And Never Cried.............
But Now, I'm Lying Under A White Cover,
Father Putting Me On Fire.........
With No Blessings Left To Shower.....
People Around Have Nothing To Do With My Death
But Are Crying.........
And I'm............
Still Smiling.................................
poem by Apurva Jain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My heart shall be thy garden
My heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own,
Into thy garden; thine be happy hours
Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers,
From root to crowning petal, thine alone.
Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown
Up to the sky inclosed, with all its showers.
But ah, the birds, the birds! Who shall build bowers
To keep these thine? O friend, the birds have flown.
For as these come and go, and quit our pine
To follow the sweet season, or, new-corners,
Sing one song only from our alder-trees,
My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine.
Flit to the silent world and other summers,
With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.
poem by Alice Meynell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Birdsong
The morning air suddenly comes alive,
With beautiful birdsong, in bursts of five.
Sometimes, there are bursts of seven or six,
To add a dash of variety, to the musical mix.
From other birds, there is no competition;
To sing the best, this bird is on a mission.
He sings his song loudly, and crystal clear;
Sat way up high in the tree, he feels no fear.
To his heart’s content, the little bird sings;
Joy, to nearby shoppers, his sweet song brings.
I hear the shrill trill of a nearby burglar alarm;
Compared to the bird’s trill, it holds no charm.
Hearing his call, really brightens up my day,
As I pass him by, and go steadily on my way.
Some people are too busy to notice his call;
Upon their deaf ears, his pretty voice falls.
In the natural world, there’s beauty to be found;
You need only to listen, and look all around.
If you just take your time; if you do not rush,
You will find beauty aplenty in the relative hush.
Listen to the birds singing, way up in the trees;
Their voices are carried upon the winter breeze.
By such sights and sounds, you will be thrilled;
With nature’s beauty, your senses will be filled.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Crooked Ways Of The Tiny Birds
feelings are sometimes like the tiny birds
of summer feeding on a few grains
on the wide yards of the garden where the grasses
spread far
some feels being smothered by the indifference of other
tiny birds
separated by the distance of the long lines of
parallel electric poles
imagine the image of tiny birds sitting in there
looking for pecking
one notices the vastness of the sky
the unfinished climb of the hill
the vanishing paths of trails long untrue
feelings like tiny birds fly away
but there is no reason to be afraid on the
facts of nonreciprocating birds
ah, the world is wide and too interesting
to be ignored
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Cuckoo Song
Crowns are for kings to wear, sad crowns of gold
Over tired heads that ache, world--cares untold.
Not on thy happy brows, sweet bird of summer,
Set we such crowns to--day, thou Spring's new--comer.
Take from us, rather, thou these our wild posies.
April's and May's we bring, June's with its roses.
Nay and love's Cuckoo flowers, O child of glory!
Cuckoos thine own birds are; these be thy dowry.
Eve of our heart's shut field, need is we grieve thee,
Gone to a world more sweet where we must leave thee.
Russet--clad nightingales, tired of our chaunting,
Out in the dark we weep, our Queen--bird wanting.
Such is the fate of birds. Soon as the Spring comes
Vagrant they flit and fly. Lo! 'tis their King comes.
Endeth our night plaint only when, through the wild wood,
New born the day trips in, laughs as a child would.
O, then we too will laugh, join in the gay chime,
Run to thy marriage bells, birds of the day--time.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Simply Like The Word Roost
and its variations,
refer to the latest poem i wrote on the word
ensconce, it is roost that you use, which signifies
about chickens
but honestly i prefer the pegions
which we had
once in my youth
the boy who chased and hit birds
feeding on our rice
drying under the sun
and i did not know what i did
stoning birds and killing them
not really thinking
that they would be happier
and nicer to see
when they are alive
and flying and feeding
on the pavements where
rice is abundant and
it woudl have been more
memorable if i feed
them myself
with rice on my palms
which i never really did
because in my place
a boy is a boy and he must
hit the birds with stones
from his slingshot
until i have seen real birds
and real people shot
and killed on the fields
like birds but
with real ammunitions
from government armalites
and brothers
killing brothers
which really bothers
me a lot
until now
when finally i get tired of thinking
when i simply write
poems and poems, not judgments
not commands, just feelings
like hot and cold, fever and the coldness
of death
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Crooked Ways Of The Tiny Birds 2
feelings are sometimes like the tiny birds
of summer feeding on a few grains
on the wide yards of the garden where the grasses
spread far
some do feel being smothered by the indifference of other
tiny birds
separated by the distance of the long lines of
parallel electric poles
imagine the image of tiny birds sitting in there
looking for pecking
one notices the vastness of the sky
the unfinished climb of the hill
the vanishing paths of trails long untrue
feelings like tiny birds fly away
but there is no reason to be afraid on the
facts of nonreciprocating birds
ah, the world is wide and too interesting
to be ignored
on a few grains one feeds upon
and having satisfied sits lonelier on the line of an electric pole
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem about Poetry - the bird belting out a poem
twilight amusement
the different IQs
that make their way
to my room
dividing the world
in the form of chirp
chirp, chirp, chirp
twitter, twitter, twitter
in so many styles
and tones and syllables,
some extended,
some short broken notings
as diverse as the blooms in the garden
warbling, twittering, twit, tweedling, chirping
chirping, chirp
the singing IQ chart
try, try, try, you never know
how good you are if you never try
the varying quality bird songs
from the large garden tree
each bird's chirp
a humble contribution
from a little creation
each chirp divides the world
at morn, at dusk
what a delight to the ears, mind
simple short noted twitter
long extended mutli-toned varied tweedle
the varying quality poems
those chirpy nature poems
by celebrity birds
the like of sylvia plath,
and proletarian birds
the like of impoverished citizens
of the world
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The seeds of the garden
I grew a garden with seeds brought from some. I alone know from where I got those seeds.
I do not know to which gardens have gone
The seeds of mine for growing plants of theirs.
13.10.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Helplessness
The bird of heart,
Swooped and swooped,
Exhausted in flights,
Its wings are now conked out,
For branch to branch it nestled,
Farm to farm it picked the grain,
Place to place it slaked hunger,
The world is a delusion,
Flights plucked out its feathers,
No plunge proved resultant,
All around death dances,
Time worn out the extremities,
Who should in the mortal world,
Contest wrestle against time.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Harmony
when the guava tree
showed leaves
we waited for time
for it to give flowers
and then it came
we waited till it
bore fruits and then
the fruits ripened
we waited till all the
ripe ones fell to the
ground
then our hands picked
them all up
and we ate the juicy
sweet pulp and then
we spit out the seeds
to the ground
we swallowed what
fills our thirst and hunger
and the world
smiled
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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T-birds
Circle high, circle low.
Jammers fly, t-birds.
You show, you show, whiplash go.
You show, you show, t-birds. mighty bird.
T-bird, my mighty bird.
On the dot in the slot, tie the knot.
On the dot timed kisses.
In the slot on the dot, tie the knot.
In the slot, no misses.
Mighty bird.
T-bird, my mighty bird.
T-bird, mighty bird.
Black sun conquerer.
Two thousand years ago... a great race... warriors... lived in... they had many gods... mayans... gods... mazatlan... (if you can fill in these blanks please email [email protected])
Black sun worshipper.
Coil it up, wind it out, strike it hot!
Coil it up plumed serpent.
Coil it up, wind it out, strike it hot!
Coil it up, my t-bird.
Serpent curl.
T-bird, rule the world.
T-bird, mighty bird.
Black sun born again.
Oh I love my t-bird, t-bird.
song performed by by Blondie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You have to work?
Work work work
Work work work
Work work work
The life clock ticks!
Work work work
Heart beat gives the same rhythm?
You breath
You walk
You eat
You sleep
To the same annoying tune!
If you work
You get that shiny colored paper notes
with the portrait of bygone handsome Presidents!
and if you don't work, fired black & white certificate receive by ordinary mail.
No money,
No Honey?
[Ulcers, rheumatoid arthritis, respiratory headaches and rectal complaints are capitalism's accumulated debt of exhausted human tissue.]-A dog's life(quoted from Sheila Rowbotham's 'Woman's consciousness, Man's World)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Flower to Flower
I came across one flower
While walking in a garden
It saw me and gave a smile
I too smiled and walked
Each day in garden I smiled
One day I gazed at flower
At its plant and roots closely
I observed its dance in wind
And its dance made me sing
It made me smile all my time
Everyday I went to flower
Smiled with it and came back
My days went like seconds
Nights passed like years
Flower made me its lover
So I wrote songs on its dance
On its lovely beautiful smile
All about its charming beauty
And my state of dying slowly
In which I am smiling daily
One day I saw flower singing
In the garden while jogging
Song reveled its moving off
From my garden to a house
Of loved one from its past
I smiled on all my songs
While writing a new song
Its song of flower to flower
Which I gave to my flower
When departing from my lover
poem by Kranthi Pothineni
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Child's Plea....!
I am that kid,
Sometimes wise,
Sometime innocently
foolish,
But remaining ever curious to learn,
Anyone including you,
Be my teachers,
Clouds and rain, rainbow and trees,
Rivers and mountains,
fishes and lakes,
Kingfisher and woodpecker,
Even birds and flowers too!
I wonder at this dream world,
Wonderful stars shining in eyes,
Please be kind enough,
Let my child and its grand child,
Also wonder at beauty of this
world, Please kill not colourful animals
and birds,
Spill not the nature's gift, this
beautiful world is always
beautiful with colours of life
shining everywhere!
You may create beautiful glass
tree,
No bird will nest on it,
No bird can sing happily and perch its beak
its beak on it,
You may create artificial flowers,
Never liked by bees and butterfly,
you may create toy butterfly,
but that can't bring me thrill,
Come out to garden,
Let us play,
Promise me,
no life you ever try to slay.
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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True or false
Really animals do have it made.
Feeding them comes directly from God.
With us(people being the middle men)
Now give that a twist or two in your head.
People are always complaining
Never really wanting to compromise
And they pet themselves on the back
And that they are wise...?
I wonder what a birds eye view would be...
Let me see, says the bird:
'After hearing people feeling sorry for themselves
Whenever I am in ear shot..
Some how that just thicking's the human plot,
The humans have and have and not's.
After work they made go lay in the shade
Bitching: (is when one person can't seem to share with the other
Person.
But yet and still animals are fed.
...can people say that much of themselves?
Yet I am a bird and I share what I can.
And may just wake up some day as someone's
Oooo, La, la!
Look at her driving that big car,
While people in a distance place who can't really get to far
Draught is not as catching to all
Nor does it has sex appeal.
Look at him drinking his coffee everyday
While plotting on a friend or two...during his day
Killing each other for sport, fun, anger and whatever else
People deem that is correct.
Really we animals are dumb...
But damn!
Check where the human's are coming from.
I've heard a human speak of someone in passing
A jack and a Jill...how they both rolled down a hill?
Now most human children grow up and kill.
Just a birds luck...
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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