En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The marsh

Barefoot at times I walk through the marsh,
having to dodge plovers
diving down at me,
widow-birds are trying to draw my attention

with long tails that looks
as if they are too heavy to fly
and in the reeds something is moving
as if some animal is hiding there

and when I come closer
a water monitor
comes out hissing
hitting challenging with its tail

and everywhere yellow and read finches
are flying around
the oaks are full of wooing doves
and there’s a wild cat
looking down from a tree.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Remembrance

As a child I saw the sun
hanging over the marsh,
when it caught the first red rays.

In that marsh land
long-tailed widow-birds
glided deeper into the reeds.

Plover’s pretending
to have broken wings,
tried to entice me away
from their nests.

In life’s marsh
there were enemy soldiers
that was stone-dead,
while I had hidden deeper
into the reeds.

Groups of enemy patrols
cut past following the river,
to find my comrades and I.

Every time that the sun
hanged new over the reeds,
the enemy became less
and the chance to catch us diminished
and mosquitoes swarmed around me.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Nature Was Drawing Me Along (Septilla / Spanish Septet)

The whole of summer weavers gathered
violets, arum-lilies grew among the reeds
in the swamp, morning glories were like weeds,
some long-tailed widow-birds fluttered,
all day finches sang a twittering song,
vibrant nature was drawing me along
in colours of green, purple, yellow and red.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Marsh Land

The nearer I come to the wild marsh land
the more I hear red-knobbed coots carolling
where a swarm of tiny weavers twitter,
rocking and balancing on the long reeds,
cheerfully the meandering stream jabbers
while it shines in the bright morning light
next to the big old hanging willow tree,
where a symphony of nature resounds.

Marsh bulrushes rocks plumed in the wind
that blows softly through the bushes of sprouts,
somewhat blinded by the natural beauty
I wander like a child through all the reeds,
drops of water jet when wild ducks fly up,
with rushes suddenly rocking up and down.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Eastern Swamphen

Invertebrates and slugs and such they eat
The water birds with big and ugly feet
You know them by their wild and distinct cry
And their legs are always dangling as they fly.

Related to but larger than moorhen
And with coots, rails and crakes they too share common kin
In or near water they are known to stay
And from lake or pond they won't be far away.

Midst water reeds they build their nests of reeds and grass
No work of art just an untidy mass
And three up to five eggs the female lay
With brown spots through the lightish buff to gray.

With purple under black and red on face
And flicking tails familiar to their race
Birds when once seen you never could mistake
They roost in ponds or reedy swamp or lake.

If danger threaten to water they retreat
The water birds with big and ugly feet
And you know them by their wild and distinct cry
And their legs are always dangling as they fly.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Yellow Billed Spoonbill

By the lake shore in the shallows where the waters are still
He walks in water to his knees the white bird with yellow legs and long yellow spoon like bill
With his bill in the water as he walk moving from side to side
His prey water insects, crustaceans and tiny fish in the water weed hide.

He and his partner build their nest on a high branch of a tree
On her nest of sticks she lays four white eggs though sometimes two or three
They both take care of their young a bird devoted to fatherhood as well as to his mate
Food from their stomachs to their nestlings they do regurgitate.

On river rapids never seen the still waters they need
Birds of the inland lakes and dams in the shallows they feed
Of humans 'twould be fair to say they have a healthy fear
To a human standing on the shore they never venture near.

Yellow billed or yellow legged spoonbill are names they are known by
On the lake I see one yesterday he did seem rather shy
With his long yellow bill moving from side to side in the shallows he shuffled up and down
The shiest of the water birds in the big park by the Town.

poem by Francis Duggan
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In every thing

In every rock, mineral, sand, wild animal, flower and tree
There’s a urge to be free, planted in from primordial times

Under the earth’s crust in granite, basalt, any instance
there’s a build in resistance, from primordial times.

In drops in any water stream
you cannot bridle the inert scream, from primordial times.

to be part of the clouds, the sea, to them to draw near
without any confinement or fear, from primordial times

Every antelope, bird of prey or wild animal
every lion, tiger and mammal, seeks liberty form primordial times.

in grass, the restless wind that blows wild
there are hope and trust like that of a child, from primordial times

Strydom, to where do you want to flee,
for a free existence? You are planted in this country from primordial times.

poem by Gert Strydom
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When I was a child

When I was a child
I saw fireflies,
fly passing secretly at night.

The world was full of wonderful things
and there were trees
with bird nests and eggs
of white and pink and blue
and with spots on them.

I could shoot a true shot with my kettie
and the blue fishing rod
took carp, blue kurper, yellowfish
and catfish from streams.

Doves or fish fillets
from glowing wood embers,
tasted delicious
and the world was a great place.

At the marsh plovers jumped up and down
and like wounded birds, as if with a broken wing
tried to entice you away from their nests

Aloe and protea bushes were all over the kopjes
and prickly pear, wild peach, mispil and stamvrugte
were everywhere on the ridges.

The world of a child faded away with time.
But when I went back as a adult;
a highway runs right through the hillocks
and there are houses where there was marsh
and the streams are full of rubbish and litter
and I see how progress has destroyed nature.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Black Crow

Theres a crow flying
Black and ragged
Tree to tree
Hes black as the highway thats leading me
Now hes diving down
To pick up on something shiny
I feel like that black crow
Flying
In a blue sky
I took a ferry to the highway
Then I drove to a pontoon plane
I took a plane to a taxi
And a taxi to a train
Ive been traveling so long
Howm I ever going to know my home
When I see it again
Im like a black crow flying
In a blue, blue sky
In search of love and music
My whole life has been
Illumination
Corruption
And diving, diving, diving, diving.
Diving down to pick up on every shiny thing
Just like that black crow flying
In a blue sky
I looked at the morning
After being up all night
I looked at my haggard face in the bathroom light
I looked out the window
And I saw that ragged soul take flight
I saw a back crow flying
In a blue sky
Oh Im like a black crow flying
In a blue sky

song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Plovers

THE Plovers fly and cry around,
Unguided, nestless, without bourn,
Wandering and impetuous,
Turning and flying to return.

These wild birds seen on Ireland's ground
I name upon Hawaiian beaches
Estrayents, they, of all lands' ends,
They have the oceans for their reaches.

My thoughts are like the Plovers' flight,
Unguided, nestless, without bourn,
Wandering and impetuous,
Turning and flying to return.

poem by Padraic Colum
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Wash

Sand slowly sinks between your toes as you walk down to the water.
You hear the sound of the waves moving back and forth as you get closer.

You feel the water hitting your feet as the tide goes up and down.
The water feels refreshing like you are being washed away of your past and pain.

Each day we are given a new day as we wake up.
So each day refresh yourself and wash away your yesterday.

By saying today is a new day and good things will happen to knock my bad away.

poem by Christina J. Williams
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Under The Water

The bird was
Flying
Under the water...

Under the water
Fishes and frog
Also swmming...

How the birds
are flying...? ? ?

It is not qustine...
You also
Go and see
Any lake...

Sincerly watch it..
Natualy
Birds are flying sky;

Shado will be
Seen under
The water...
Sky also there:

Only way its true
Shadows...
The birds are
Simply flying
Under the water......

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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A Poem For My Friend Angel.....'bout Birds....[Nature observations; Personal]

I enjoy seeing birds at our backyard feeder,
And, from bushes and trees, hearing some birds that 'tweeeeeter'.

Tiny black seeds attract finches, which have the name ‘gold'....
Who flee from grey juncos which are larger and bold.

Flitting chickadees and 'tufted' titmice, from feeder, eat seed,
While, on the ground, sparrows, towhees, and doves often feed.
They scatter when a blue and white scrub jay flies by,
Or when, overhead, a prowling hawk they do spy.

Waxwings and robins come to pick some nearby berries.
'sorry birdies, ....we have neither grapes nor red cherries.'

Ravens, vultures, and gulls pass high in the air, while
Bushtits and 'hummers' come closer to my chair.

I don't see all these birds every week, but.....i've seen more,
And some non-feathered friends pause, not far from our door.
And when around me i see no animal creatures.....
I enjoy all the plants....that our landscape features.

poem by Bri Edwards
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Seasons

I

As if summer will never end
irises are everywhere in the garden
with opening flower after flower
in light yellow, deep purple and rust-brown.

The bright hot sun hangs day after day
in a cobalt blue sky and even carnations, geraniums
and flame lilies are showing their beauty,
are still holding onto summer.

Doves are still cooing in the oak tree,
their are finches and sparrows cavorting up and down
and it’s as if nature is thwarting autumn
while dew is still shining on the leaves in the mornings

until later the sky becomes dull blue
while the sun is getting much more faint.

II

Slowly the leaves are falling
descending in different colours,
in one’s and two’s and later in a bigger number
tree-trunks become dark brown, red and some pallid

until every tree but for those that are evergreen stand skeleton,
the birds that remain sit next to each other shivering,
wishing for the winter to past
having difficulty to find seeds and other food

and the cold winter wind blows through everything,
filling the air with whirling dust clouds
with stripped branches flinging up and down
and everywhere leaves and branches lie in a jumble

until the wind dies down and the morning fog hangs like vapour,
at times only at noon is dispersed by the sun.

III

Days are cold and grey while the sun hides,
with a owl hunting during the day
searching for hungry mice sneaking around in the yellow grass
and all other signs of animal life is missing

but for doves sitting here and there
on telephone wires,
in disconsolation staring into the distance
and early mornings the grass is covered with white ripe

and it is as if every flower succumbs,
is shrinking crumpled and are folding close
until the first spring rain comes suddenly,
with sprouts and buds appearing and new flowers folding open

when fruit trees are covered with white, pink and yellow blossoms
and the sudden beauty takes your breath away.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Goblin in the marsh

A Goblin staggers out of the marsh
and he is dirty and full of mud
and stinking he pasts
and walk in the fog
that rises from the water.

There are marsh gasses
that everywhere hangs rotting
and a lightning bolt
hitting to surface
Let’s balls of flame explode
blue, orange and red-blue
behind him
and he laughs half mad
while he walks away
through the mud.

Sniffing he searches
for waterweed, fester, bubonic plague,
arsenic and a snake’s
foaming poison
with the head of a rat
on a green body
and he waddles while he walks
and appears here and there
like a shadow.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Walking and flying

Walk walk and walking
Fly fly and flying
I'm swimming
I'm diving.
In earth in air
In water in sky
In fire in light
You are my only master
Being present everywhere
And in all times.
I'm the son of the light
I'm the hero
I can do whatever work
Allotted to me
With sincerity and honesty
And I get victory.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Wild Wild Party In The Loquat Tree

Out in the back by the grape stake fence
Is a place where nature makes so much sense
All the creatures livin in harmony
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Fuzzies and furries run walk or fly
Havin a feast beneath a clear blue sky
Animals comin from miles around
To bounce the branch and shake the loquat down
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Peckin at em pickin at em hidin em away
Savin em up for a rainy day
No matter how big no matter how small
Theres more than enough theres plenty for all
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Every little loquat holds the seed
For a brand-new baby loquat tree
One o these seeds may find its way
To a place in the sun and then someday
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[havin a party]
All havin a party in the loquat tree
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[in the loquat tree]
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[havin a party]
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[in the loquat tree]
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree

song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In My Childhood Days I Pick Lilies In The Marsh [2]

In my childhood days I picked lilies in the marsh
where the highway now runs almost into eternity
while only cars do pass on the road.

Laid dry, barren and destroyed is the marsh land that I did love
and selfish gain circles out wider while nature is distorted
where the highway now runs almost into eternity

and the plain is full of offices and factories that pushed it aside
and I search for something that can keep the untouchedness
and selfish gain circles out wider while nature is distorted,

there is smoke that like a blanket folds from above over everything
while on the sidewalk there is a marigold
and I search for something that can keep the untouchedness

and notices a flower that grows wild right through the concrete,
and I see no coots or plovers calling
while on the sidewalk there is a marigold

amongst the crowding of people of the one or other group.
In my childhood days I picked lilies in the marsh
and I see no coots or plovers calling
while only cars do pass on the road.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Just Before The Demonia Hurricane

Just before the Demonia hurricane
clouds in Durban
darkened the whole sky
and horizon.

I saw black water stretching out
with just here and there
‘a light dancing
on the surface of the sea.

Like a giant water monitor
that prepares to shatter
with its tail
the sea hissed menacing
about the coming chaos
and with rain and giant waves
I knew that destiny
somewhere else is hitting people mercilessly
and are even killing some.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Logic

'Tis strange, but true, that a common cat
Has got ten tails, — just think of that!

Don't see it, eh? The fact is plain:
To prove it so I rise t'explain.

We say a cat has but one tail:
Behold how logic lifts the veil!

No cat has nine tails: don't you see
One cat has one tail more than she ?

Now add the one tail to the nine,
You'll find a full ten-tailed feline.

As Holmes has said, in his "One-Horse Shay,"
Logic is logic; that's all I say.

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Red Browed Firetails

One can't mistake them for their scratchy song
To small seed eating family of birds they belong
Some call them red browed finches others the red browed firetails
And the females hard to distinguish from the males.

With red bill and brows and neck and unders gray
And red rump, dark tail and greenish wings I see them every day
They perch on fence wire near where paddocks are
And to get their food they don't have to fly far.

They live in small flocks on a diet of seeds
And I see them often amongst grasses and weeds
Of the human kind they do seem rather shy
And from the paddock to the fence they fly.

On sapling tree or creeper they build their globe nest of dried grass or hay
Where they lay up to six eggs of white to gray
And their nests hard to find and well hidden away
From currawong and other birds of prey.

Red browed firetails or finches birds I often see
On paddock fence wire or on branch of tree
Of human kind they have a healthy fear
And they fly away if to them you come near.

poem by Francis Duggan
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