Surroundings-26
Nesting Crow
Pecks, picks, builds nest on new tree
Caws, cries, sounds best to show spree
Sticks, strips, twigs set up on tree
Flaps, jirks, chirps just new rent free
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
Peace Is Not White
What is the way out
When in the tenebrous heart
One is caught hold tight
Let not the eyes wet
Rush out to drench in the rains
Just like that wet crow
Pouring rains weaving
Clad in happiness up soars
Splashing sprinkles once
Then down flutters wet
Caw, caw cries left and right glad
Then up the tree flees
Its nest its chicks feeds
Watering sky, laughing earth
In mirth happy crow
Circling once again
With one-eyed look caws
Drippy before you
Set free from your cave
A bird fleeing unfettered
Look, peace is not white
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The empty nest
The wind is raw, a sleeting rain
Has covered everything in ice..
It coats an inch of killing snow.
Take it slow is good advice.
I clear my walkway of the slush
And pause to view my little tree
It is a dwarf non-fruiting Pear.
I had the City plant for me.
In its bare branches is a nest,
An impressive edifice of sticks
Abandoned now for sweeter climes
In Spring a nesting pair raised chicks.
I long to hear their call once more
They used to wake me at first light
But soon their chicks had taken flight
And all was silent as the night.
Do nesting pairs feel sadness when
Their little ones have fled the nest?
They never call, they cannot write.
I’m guessing that it’s hard, at best.
In spring will come another pair
to nest within my little tree.
Once more I’ll be awakened by
that timeless avian symphony.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Nostalgic Memories!
A crow built a nest on our tree
taking up the sticks from the broom
and laid its golden egg and sat over it often.
No loitering of rats, cats, squirrels there!
The crow would caw to call out its kin
and roust the menacing creatures away.
A fledgling hatched out, and crowed a hoarse cry.
When its chick went near the edge of the nest,
The crow would draw it in with its beak.
If the rains poured, it would cuddle its chick.
A flock of crows cried, “ caw, caw, caw, caw! ”
and urged the young one to flight off.
My Goodness! I see it again near the nest daily morn.
Nostalgic memories bring the birds too back home.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Fee
This tree has no trouble
And I have no trouble.
I have no trouble
With this trouble-free tree.
This trouble-free tree
has no trouble
With a trouble-free me.
This trouble-free tree
has no trouble. This tree
has no trouble.
And I have no trouble
With a trouble-free me.
But were I to be free
Of a trouble-free me,
This trouble-free tree
Spells trouble for me.
Were this tree to be free
Of this trouble-free tree,
There might even be
A real trouble-spree.
This is to say, “See,
Trouble exacts a fee:
A price (in fact) to see
This trouble-free tree.”
[5-23-07 Berkeley]
poem by David Floren
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Lessons from a Woodpecker
The woodpecker will not give up,
Until the hole it planned is made!
It walks upon the trunk upside,
Its clawed feet holding bark firmly!
It pecks and pecks while turning head;
It bangs and drums upon the tree;
It hammers, chisels, saws and files,
The sharp beak digging circularly!
The pecking actions cause echoes
In air surrounding bird on tree;
With great a force, it pecks each time,
But does not mind feeling giddy!
It pecks and pecks as wood chips fly;
The bristly tongue helps it to clear;
The beak keeps hitting edge of hole,
As head of bird, then goes deeper!
It takes a month to make a hole!
The woodpecker will not give up;
It comes back to the hole each day,
And deepens it some more, some way!
The woodpecker has taught me how
Hard labor, perseverance clicks;
And lo! The nest is filled with love,
As noisy cries come from new chicks!
Yes, Mother Nature teaches all,
Such golden lessons for no fee;
Oh, listen to her daily call;
Success will smile on you, may be!
When one has aimed to do something,
Come in the way, don’t let a thing;
Work till the job is fully done;
Nothing in life, you leave half-done!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-15-2010
poem by John Celes
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Treecreepers
Elusive birds them one don't often see
Treecreepers build their cup shaped nest of bark behind loose bark of tree
From predators concealed and hidden away
And pinkish spotted eggs the female lay.
Shy woodland birds of humans they show respectful fear
They climb tree trunks in search of insects and when human to them venture near
Of the tree trunk they disappear to the other side
Of watchers eyes they'd much prefer to hide.
They will never be renowned as birds of song
Though their familiar chirps one hardly could get wrong
The ornithologists and bird watchers on studying them don't spend much of their time
And they seldom have inspired the poets to rhyme.
From the day they leave the nest until the day they die
From ground up they climb the tree and then to the next tree fly
To climb again in search of invertebrates such things they like to eat
They must have great strength in their tiny feet
In wooded places they like to reside
And from predators their cup shaped nest they hide
Shy little birds when human to them venture near
To the other side of the tree trunk they disappear.
poem by Francis Duggan
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At crow's nest pass
At Crow's Nest Pass the mountains rend
Themselves apart, the rivers wend
A lawless course about their feet,
And breaking into torrents beat
In useless fury where they blend
At Crow's Nest Pass.
The nesting eagle, wise, discreet,
Wings up the gorge's lone retreat
And makes some barren crag her friend
At Crow's Nest Pass.
Uncertain clouds, half-high, suspend
Their shifting vapours, and contend
With rocks that suffer not defeat;
And snows, and suns, and mad winds meet
To battle where the cliffs defend
At Crow's Nest Pass.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Comparison
A bird can live anywhere.
It doesn't worry about rent.
Finds a tree. Picks one out.
Never feels that its without.
A man can't live anywhere
and worries about his rent.
Finds a house. Picks one out.
Loses his job and is left to shout
Now what?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Robbin Tree
The Robin begins to build her nest
in the gnarled tree;
the twigs are twisted;
the branches lack leaves;
and the nest is exposed
offering no shelter.
She puts another twig
into the tree fork;
but it falls to the ground.
She looks away west
and leaves.
Her wings
flapping
out a message:
Nature is abandoning us.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Strange Tree
There’s a strange tree which lives near me,
And this strange tree could not agree,
That if this tree could ever see,
A stranger tree it sure would be.
There’s a strange tree which topples me,
For this strange tree was tall, you see,
And then this tree would use its knee,
To break in three, the clouds who flee.
There’s a strange tree which lives near me,
The northern tree, its branches free,
The southern tree, no limb to see,
For this strange tree, was strange, you see?
There’s a strange tree which I can see,
And this strange tree (against my plea)
Was sent to sea, its roots now free,
And now this tree… A ship is he.
End.
Broken Rhythm
A fat crow drops onto
The very tip of the top
Branch of a barren tree.
It sways with the branch
As if riding the hand
Of a metronome.
We're swept up in
The rhythm, the crow
The tree and me.
Then a hard gust
From the east
Or west and
The tree becomes a bull,
The crow a bullrider and
I'm on the edge of my seat
Waiting for something bad
To happen.
poem by Francis Santaquilani
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A pair of Sparrows on my lovely Lemon Tree
Those were the days
So joyous and carefree
When I could watch the preening of
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
Summer days were so short, winters were so long
And for endless hours one could go on a kite flying spree
When I could watch, hopping here and there
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
Enjoying tender sunshine in winter is a past
And chapattis from an earthen hearth a history
When I could watch, assembling of a nest by
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
What seemed to be mundane at that time
Life in my backyard so ordinary
Bliss it is in hindsight, chirping of
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
I still sometimes motivate myself
To get off the treadmill and shake the shackles free
But can’t anymore find in my back yard
That pair of sparrows and that lovely lemon tree
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree..
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree.......
30 July 09
poem by Ravi Singh
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The Gallows
There was a weasel lived in the sun
With all his family,
Till a keeper shot him with his gun
And hung him up on a tree,
Where he swings in the wind and rain,
In the sun and in the snow,
Without pleasure, without pain,
On the dead oak tree bough.
There was a crow who was no sleeper,
But a thief and a murderer
Till a very late hour; and this keeper
Made him one of the things that were,
To hang and flap in rain and wind,
In the sun and in the snow.
There are no more sins to be sinned
On the dead oak tree bough.
There was a magpie, too,
Had a long tongue and a long tail;
He could talk and do -
But what did that avail?
He, too, flaps in the wind and rain
Alongside weasel and crow,
Without pleasue, without pain,
On the dead oak tree bough.
And many other beasts
And birds, skin, bone, and feather,
Have been taken from their feasts
And hung up there together,
To swing and have endless leisure
In the sun and in the snow,
Without pain, without pleasure,
On the dead oak tree bough.
poem by Edward Thomas
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The Tree And The Breeze
Have you ever noticed how the trees sway with the breeze?
It's as if they were dancing in rhythm with a mellow tune
Have you ever notice how a tree is home to a bird's nest...
where the birds rest?
It's as if the tree were a peaceful and relaxed get-away
From where their troubles stray
But then the tree also has another side
In which it can take the birds for a bit of a ride
It is its party side...
when a pile of birds get together in one tree...
to sing along to the breeze as back and forth it sways the tree
The tree's stuck in the ground
Every day its life's the same
But the breeze
Now that's a different story
The breeze is free
It goes and comes as it pleases
The tree it seizes
Have you ever noticed half the things a tree does are caused by the breeze?
poem by Amy Parkinson
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On A Moonlit Night In July
A full moon does silently creep it's way across the starlit sky
And the flute of the magpie I hear on this cool Winter night in July
He does not sing for the love of song he sings to defend territory
Whilst most others birds are asleep he pipes high on a wattle tree
With a wife and a nest to defend in his nesting time of the year
He pipes a warning to males of his kind that to us sounds melodious and clear,
The spur wing plovers in the park above their nesting grounds do fly
They scream at the dog, fox or cat who to their ground nest is prowling nearby
In the calm of a Winter night of such beauty a Nature Poet would write
A poem that lovers of Nature poetry would read and to others feel glad to recite
On a gum tree a brush tail possum calls for a mate his hoarse voice one cannot mistake
He will be in the dark ceiling of a nearby house before the sun rise at daybreak
And the boobook owl calls out mopoke a night predator of human kind shy
The nocturnal creatures out and about on a moonlit night in July.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Tree To Me
A Tree to Me
Once there was tree
It looks so strange to me
Wondering how it become a tree
A small sprout from a seed in my hand
Now, it's bigger than me.
Unfortunately, tree stood alone
Grows without heart and soul
No friend, no companion
But still stand strong
For you to help on
A tree is a friend to me
That set you free from calamity
From floods and erosion you are free
As you rest under the tree,
Think how lucky you are with a tree.
poem by Cristina Delos Santos
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Under The Laburnum Tree
(A simple tale)
Under the Laburnum tree
She saw his gentle face
Under the Laburnum tree
She knew their first embrace
Under the Laburnum tree
She gave to him her love
Under the Laburnum tree
Beneath the stars above
Under the Laburnum tree
He left her there to cry
Under the Laburnum tree
That`s where she chose to die
(Under the Laburnum tree
Were scattered all its seeds
Under the Laburnum tree
Amongst the growing weeds)
Under the Laburnum tree
The moon was shining bright
Under the Laburnum tree
Her silv`ry soul took flight
Under the Laburnum tree
At last she was set free
Under the Laburnum tree
She found eternity
poem by Valerie Dohren
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The 'Poem A Day' Project ~ Day 193
I’m a traffic cone up a tree
Someone on a drunken spree
With all of their might
Gave me new height
Here for all to see
I’m a traffic cone up a tree
Not really where I should be
I’m usually found
Much nearer the ground
Lined up uniformly
I’m a traffic cone up a tree
It makes me feel rather free
To have reached a place
No other cone’ll grace
Fills me with real glee
I’m a traffic cone up a tree
Plastic and bright orangey
I might catch the eye
Of some strange passer by
Who’ll write a poem about me
poem by Flying Lemming
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Crow to cat
Cat run
Run to
Run to
Not catch rat...
Watch the crow...
On the tree
Crow sit and eat
Fry fish...
Cat want crow fish
So...
Cat woory hurry...
Watch the crow...
Crow crowing too
Eat the fry fish
Fly too fly...
Cat feel free
For stomach...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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When I was only three I planted a tree
When I was three I planted a tree. This was my tree and together we would always be. I gave it love and it to me, and so we were happy, me and my tree.
Then one day they came to see me and my tree. Men with no faces, and they said to me, you must go, and leave this tree.
Buy why I ask. For we've done no harm. Me and my tree, please let us be.
So they left us alone, me and my tree, but only for a while but I could not see.
Then one day they came and took me away. My tree was needed to save the day. Goods it will make it makes perfect sense. So we will take this tree, for wood we need. And so it was done, they took my tree.
And now I look around, my tree I no longer see. Taken from, this tree I planted when I was three.
poem by Brad Milner
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