A Bird Came Down
A bird came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
And then he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.
He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad,--
They looked like frightened beads, I thought;
He stirred his velvet head
Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home
Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, splashless, as they swim.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Related quotes
Bird
A bird came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
And then he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And the hopped sideways to the wall
To let a beetle pass.
He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad, -
They looked like frightened beads, I thought
He stirred his velvet head.
Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rolled him softer home
Then oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, plashless, as they swim.
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Bird Came Down The Walk
bird fun, they are all up there
drizzle, the row of little robins on the wire
a lost bee flying by, takes a round and flies off,
bird fun, a little kite gliding chirping
a sentinel for female kite
hatching its young in the trees
bird fun, they are all down there
a white energetic scintillating dove
after the rain cleaning itself in a puddle
sprinkling off the water
inches its head in and out of water
quick and skillful as a roman prince in his bath
bird fun, they are all down here
a drowsy cockroach on the sundry shop verandah
snapped up by the sharp-eyed little sparrow
flew in, snapped and went without a care of the world
bird fun, they are all in the trees
the little colourful bird with
match size curved beak
hopping, looking for hawthorns
other flocks had patronised
and me....feeling guilty like a thief
that i am too trying to share its hawthorns
inspired by
A Bird came down the Walk
A Bird came down the Walk—
He did not know I saw—
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,
And then he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass—
He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroa—
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought—
He stirred his velvet head
Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home—
Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam—
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,
Leap, plashless as they swim.
Emily Dickinson
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Magellanic Penguin
Neither clown nor child nor black
nor white but verticle
and a questioning innocence
dressed in night and snow:
The mother smiles at the sailor,
the fisherman at the astronaunt,
but the child child does not smile
when he looks at the bird child,
and from the disorderly ocean
the immaculate passenger
emerges in snowy mourning.
I was without doubt the child bird
there in the cold archipelagoes
when it looked at me with its eyes,
with its ancient ocean eyes:
it had neither arms nor wings
but hard little oars
on its sides:
it was as old as the salt;
the age of moving water,
and it looked at me from its age:
since then I know I do not exist;
I am a worm in the sand.
the reasons for my respect
remained in the sand:
the religious bird
did not need to fly,
did not need to sing,
and through its form was visible
its wild soul bled salt:
as if a vein from the bitter sea
had been broken.
Penguin, static traveler,
deliberate priest of the cold,
I salute your vertical salt
and envy your plumed pride.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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A Dream
Once a dream did weave a shade
O’er my Angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.
Troubled, 'wilder'd, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangled spray,
All heart-broke I heard her say:
‘O, my children! do they cry?
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see:
Now return and weep for me.’
Pitying, I dropp'd a tear;
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied: ‘What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?
‘I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetle’s hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home.’
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Forgiven
I found a little beetle; so that Beetle was his name,
And I called him Alexander and he answered just the same.
I put him in a match-box, and I kept him all the day ...
And Nanny let my beetle out -
Yes, Nanny let my beetle out -
She went and let my beetle out -
And Beetle ran away.
She said she didn't mean it, and I never said she did,
She said she wanted matches and she just took off the lid,
She said that she was sorry, but it's difficult to catch
An excited sort of beetle you've mistaken for a match.
She said that she was sorry, and I really mustn't mind,
As there's lots and lots of beetles which she's certain we could find,
If we looked about the garden for the holes where beetles hid -
And we'd get another match-box and write BEETLE on the lid.
We went to all the places which a beetle might be near,
And we made the sort of noises which a beetle likes to hear,
And I saw a kind of something, and I gave a sort of shout:
'A beetle-house and Alexander Beetle coming out!'
It was Alexander Beetle I'm as certain as can be,
And he had a sort of look as if he thought it must be Me,
And he had a sort of look as if he thought he ought to say:
'I'm very very sorry that I tried to run away.'
And Nanny's very sorry too for you-know-what-she-did,
And she's writing ALEXANDER very blackly on the lid,
So Nan and Me are friends, because it's difficult to catch
An excited Alexander you've mistaken for a match.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Prelude To Joanie
At first we three thought
twas the biblical cord of life
Then noticing twas connected to his head
How strange, not to believed
I reached out to feel, and the ponys eyes opened
The cord got hard, the head looked around
And you know who pushed and gushed
The waters of life
First two hooved feet, then the shine of his fur
But at first to my eyes only
Feather - feathers - wings
The butterflies flew up in such colors
Exploding all around us
The rest I did not see - till there he stood - all eyes in wonder
Who me - who you
Look
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beetle Time (Fun Poem 29)
I saw a little beetle,
on my way home one day.
“Excuse me Mr Beetle,
would you have the time?
You see I’ve left my watch at home.”
He looked up at me.
“Now let me see.
In the morning,
my shadow is in the west.
At noon,
I have no shadow at all.
In the afternoon,
my shadow is in the east.
Now I would put the time
right now at three o’clock,
because my shadow is north east.”
(2 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Velvet Green
Walking on velvet green. scots pine growing.
Isnt it rare to be taking the air, singing.
Walking on velvet green.
Walking on velvet green. distant cows lowing.
Never a care: with your legs in the air, loving.
Walking on velvet green.
Wont you have my company, yes, take it in your hands.
Go down on velvet green, with a country man.
Whos a young girls fancy and an old maids dream.
Tell your mother that you walked all night on velvet green.
One dusky half-hours ride up to the north.
There lies your reputation and all that youre worth.
Where the scent of wild roses turns the milk to cream.
Tell your mother that you walked all night on velvet green.
And the long grass blows in the evening cool.
And augusts rare delight may be aprils fool.
But think not of that, my love,
Im tight against the seam.
And Im growing up to meet you down on velvet green.
Now I may tell you that its love and not just lust.
And if we live the lie, lets lie in trust.
On golden daffodils, to catch the silver stream
That washes out the wild oat seed on velvet green.
Well dream as lovers under the stars ---
Of civilizations raging afar.
And the ragged dawn breaks on your battle scars.
As you walk home cold and alone upon velvet green.
Walking on velvet green. scots pine growing.
Isnt it rare to be taking the air, singing.
Walking on velvet green.
Walking on velvet green. distant cows lowing.
Never a care: with your legs in the air, loving.
Walking on velvet green.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ordinary Days
Just a day, just an ordinary day
Just trying to get by
Just a boy, just an ordinary boy
But he was looking to the sky
And as he asked if I would come along
I started to realize
That every day he finds just what he's looking for
And like a shooting star he shines
And he said
Take my hand
Live while you can
If we walk now we will
Divide and conquer this land
As he spoke, he spoke ordinary words
Though they did not feel no
For I felt what I had not felt before
And you'd swear those words could heal
And as I looked up into those eyes
His vision borrows mine
And I know he's no stranger for I feel
I've held him for all of time
And he said
Take my hand
Live while you can, no
And if we walk now we will
Divide and conquer this land
Divide and conquer this land
Divide and conquer this land
Please come with me
See what I see
Touch the stars for time will not flee
Time will not flee
And you must be
Just a dream, just an ordinary dream
As I wake in bed
And the boy, that ordinary boy
was it all in my head?
Didn't he ask if I would come along?
It all seemed so real
But as I looked to the door I saw that boy
Standing there with a deal
And he said
Take my hand
Live while you can, no
And if we walk now we will
Divide and conquer this land
Divide and conquer this land
Divide and conquer this land
Just a day, just an ordinary day
Just trying to get by
Just a boy, just an ordinary boy
But he was looking to the sky
song performed by by Vanessa Carlton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Siren Of The Sea
Sea-
When the tide comes in
I will walk upon two feet
I will wander through the shallow waters
So we two can meet
When the tide goes out
I will join it in the sea
When the waves crash against the shore
Look upon them and remember me
Land-
I shall not walk upon the land
But I shall sing to you from the sea
The tune of the ocean
In such fluid melody
So jump into the water
And take me by the hand
Walk with me through the sea
For I cannot bear the land
Swim-
Walk into the waters
For that is where you will find me
Bathe with me in the ocean
And swim with me through the sea
For there you will always find me
The sea is my song
I will sing it to you as we swim
For this is where we belong
Walk-
I shall not walk upon dry land
Though two feet could be mine
My fins are what I am accustom to
And they suit me just fine
I will not walk upon dry land
For there I cannot be
So delve into the ocean
And you may swim with me
poem by Tatianna Rei Moonshadow
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To Chat with a Raven
Wind whispers through fingers
of ebony black pinions
Head cocked to watch me
as he drifts past my eyes
Apprising and appraising
My place in his dominion
Head cocked to watch me
As he effortlessly flies
To a graceful landing
Atop a lodge-pole pine
Then the head cocked again
Ebon eyes locked on mine
As if posing the question
Without uttering a word
What is your place here
In my world? …asked the bird
The question was stated
As a guttural squawk
Yet understood quite plainly
If one can parse Raven talk
On my precarious perch
On my pre-Cambrian ledge
I pondered the question
As I looked down at the sedge
Five hundred feet down the bottom lies
Perhaps a bit more… or less
I peered into the raven’s obsidian eyes
And replied “not really sure, I confess”
Did I come here to leap
Did I come here to die
I was rather hoping
You could tell me why
He croaked, with a fluffing of feathers
“To leap, to die? no, not a reason so craven
The reason my son, and a very good one
Was your need to chat up a raven
poem by David Whalen
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Butterfly Flutterby
The butterfly was young
Her vibrant wings of delicate lace
Such grace such poise
A hcarming butterfly
The cricket was slick thicket
Moving quick but swift
Yet smart somewhat wise
Proud of his chirp
Hopping through the grass
Butterfly fluttered by till upon a rose
Spreading her wings a dainty show
Slowly sipping sweet
Hopping skipping
Cricket saw
Butterfly glanced
The cricket saw butterfly
The butterfly looked yonder
Cricket hopped and chirped
A jumpety crickety song
Butterfly sighed
And rolled her eyes
Cricket hopped closer
Butterfly laughed
Silly cricket trying hard
Butterfly cared less
Poor cricket hopped and hopped
Butterfly sipping nectar sweet
Cricket sang sonfter sweeter
Butterfly stopped
A song so sweet
Too lovely than nectar
Cricket hopped upon a rose
Butterfly jumped
Almost to fly away
Cricket song too lovely to fly away
Butterfly in a trance
Fluttering her wings lovely
Too charming
Too tempting
Crickect sang
Butterfly in a spell
Too late to break
Lovers forever
Strange couple though
Yet lovely
Yet happy
Suave cricket, Princess Butterfly
Flutterby, flutterby.......
poem by Bella Ravenstar
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Never let the 'Hope' die...!
Hopes are feathers, a wish is a bird
One may find this simile a little absurd
Hold on, do not lose patience
As I will explain to you the essence
Behind this there is a theory
I shall relate this with a story
Feathers, they keep the bird warm
Likewise hopes keep our wishes strong
Clip the feathers and the bird will not fly
Were it not for hope our wishes would die
My fellow beings, listen to what i have to say
Keep on hoping, what you wish for will come your way
Let your wishes, as birds, freely fly
As long as your hope, you never let die.
poem by Ravi Singh
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Little Bird
Little bird up in a tree
Looked down and sang a song to me
Of how it began
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
The trout in the shiny brook
Gave the worm another look
And told me not to worry
About my life
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Tree in my own backyard
Stands all alone
Bears fruit for me
And it tastes so good
Wheres my pretty bird
He must have flown away
If I keep singing
Hell come back someday
Dawn, birds still gone
Guess Ill go mow the lawn
What a day, what a day
Oooo, what a beautiful day this is
Ooooooooo
Little bird up in a tree
Looked down a sang a song to me
The trout in a shiny brook
Gave the worm another look
And told me not to worry about my life
Little bird looked down
And sang a song to me
Little bird looked down
And sang a songto me
Little bird looked down
And sang a song to me
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From The Banks Of Ganga: VI
The pace set at Gangotri
Never beyond the banks
Some swam for fun
Some dared on rafts
Some took a dip
I washed my feet!
Some offered aarthi
Some offered prasad
Some simply looked at her
I offered myself!
None or nothing
Mattered to her
She flowed…
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Velvet Elvis
My life, it used to be incomplete
till I saw what I was looking for at a drive-in swap meet
My life it wont be the same again
Now Im proud to say the king lives on inside my den
Oh, its all I live for, its all I need
My velvet elvis
My velvet elvis
My velvet elvis means the world to me
Although he may not be worth much dough
He means much more to me than some old rembrandt or van gogh
Check out those sideburns, theres nothing greater
You can tell that hes no velvet elvis imitator
Oh, its all I live for, its all I need
My velvet elvis
My velvet elvis
My velvet elvis
Oh, now you cant you see
My velvet elvis
My velvet elvis
My velvet elvis means the world to me
In my own private graceland
In my own little shrine to the king
I dont want nothin else
No, I dont need anything
Dont need no lava lamp
Dont need no soap on a rope
No pictures of mexican kids with those really big eyes
Or dogs playing poker
When Im at home watching my tv
I know the king is always looking down on me
He looks so handsome, he stands so tall
So glad hes big enough to cover up that hole in the wall
(velvet elvis) hes so fuzzy
(velvet elvis) hes so great
(velvet elvis) never ages
(velvet elvis) never puts on weight
(velvet elvis) look at those rhinestones
(velvet elvis) hes just so fine
(velvet elvis) you can look but dont touch now
(velvet elvis) cause hes mine all mine
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Blind Rower
And since he rowed his father home,
His hand has never touched an oar.
All day he wanders on the shore,
And hearkens to the swishing foam.
Though blind from birth, he still could row
As well as any lad with sight;
And knew strange things that none may know
Save those who live without the light.
When they put out that Summer eve
To sink the lobster-pots at sea,
The sun was crimson in the sky;
And not a breath was in the sky;
The brooding, thunder-laden sky,
That, heavily and wearily,
Weighed down upon the waveless sea
That scarcely seamed to heave.
The pots were safely sunk; and then
The father gave the word for home:
He took the tiller in his hand,
And, in hi s heart already home,
He brought her nose round towards the land,
To steer her straight for home.
He never spoke,
Nor stirred again:
A sudden stroke,
And he lay dead,
With staring eyes, and lips off lead.
The son rowed on, and nothing feared:
And sometimes, merrily,
He lifted up his voice, and sang,
Both high and low,
And loud and sweet:
For he was ever gay at sea,
And ever glad to row,
And rowed as only blind men row:
And little did the blind lad know
That death was at his feet:
For still he thought his father steered;
Nor knew that he was all alone
With death upon the open sea.
So merrily, he rowed, and sang:
And, strangely on the silence rang
That lonely melody,
As, through the livid, brooding gloam,
By rock and reef, he rowed for home--
The blind man rowed the dead man home.
But, as they neared the shore,
He rested on his oar:
And, wondering that his father kept
So very quiet in the stern,
He laughed, and asked him if he slept;
And vowed he heard him snore just now.
Though, when his father spoke no word,
A sudden fear upon him came:
And, crying on his father's name,
With flinching heart, he heard
The water lapping on the shore;
And all his blood ran cold, to feel
The shingle grate beneath the keel:
And stretching over towards the stern,
His knuckle touched the dead man's brow.
But help was near at hand;
And safe he came to land:
Though none has ever known
How he rowed in, alone,
And never touched a reef.
Some say they saw the dead man steer--
The dead man steer the blind man home--
Though, when they found him dead,
His hand was cold as lead.
So, ever restless, to and fro,
In every sort of weather,
The blind lad wanders on the shore,
And hearkens to the foam.
His hand has never touched an oar,
Since they came home together--
The blind, who rowed his father home--
The dear, who steered his blind son home.
poem by Wilfred Wilson Gibson
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If I Could Divide the Smell of Flowers
If I could divide the smell of flowers
I’d send some to the falsely charged
Locked in prison cells
Send some to the lonely seniors
Trapped in apartment hells
Send some to the weary miners
Sweating beneath the ground
Send some to the invisible people
Hauling our garbage ‘round
Some answers in life are so easy
Like zero plus zero is none
But how do we divide the smell of flowers
So their fragrance is shared by everyone?
If I could divide the smell of flowers
I’d pass some to the frightened animals
Caged against their wills
Pass some to the dying birds
Choking on oil spills
Pass some to the angry kids
Sniffing up airplane glue
Pass some to the crying widow
Missing the love she knew
Some answers in life are so easy
Like zero plus zero is none
But how do we divide the smell of flowers
So their fragrance is shared by everyone?
If I could divide the smell of flowers
Then you’d always have your share
If I could divide the smell of flowers
There’d be sweetness around you
Everywhere
song performed by by Henry Iglesias, music by Catman Cohen, lyrics by Catman Cohen from How I Want to Live: the Catman Chronicles 2 (2005)
Submitted by anonym
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Velvet Shoes
Let us walk in the white snow
In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet snd slow,
At a tranquil pace,
Under veils of white lace.
I shall go shod in silk,
And you in wool,
White as white cow's milk,
More beautiful
Than the breast of a gull.
We shall walk through the still town
In a windless peace;
We shall step upon white down,
Upon silver fleece,
Upon softer than these.
We shall walk in velvet shoes:
Wherever we go
Silence will fall like dews
On white silence below.
We shall walk in the snow.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Through Bright Morning I Run
Through bright morning I run,
eyes brimful with green love
as the silver world sings songs
of golden spring,
and through azure noon I love
how joyful psalms, bird-throated, rise
from verdant hills.
But when the long day ends,
in bright window framed
I see
your dark door.
I will not fear the velvet night.
for in the burning stars,
I see your eyes; in hushed
delta breeze,
I hear your voice
calling me.
poem by Steven Federle
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