Early Nightingale
When first we hear the shy-come nightingales,
They seem to mutter o’er their songs in fear,
And, climb we e’er so soft the spinney rails,
All stops as if no bird was anywhere.
The kindled bushes with the young leaves thin
Let curious eyes to search a long way in,
Until impatience cannot see or hear
The hidden music; gets but little way
Upon the path - when up the songs begin,
Full loud a moment and then low again.
But when a day or two confirms her stay
Boldly she sings and loud for half the day;
And soon the village brings the woodman’s tale
Of having heard the new-come nightingale.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Realistic Sister
when she speaks
there will always be truth to it.
she told you
it wouldn't work
and it did not really work.
see? she is Cassandra.
see? the rails are cut off now
the train stops.
she speaks from the past lives she had.
once she was Cleopatra, she knew any Julius Caesar.
now she is telling me the same thing.
i am afraid, this thing too that i have in my palm
will not work. I am crushing it, but i still doubt it.
i wish it were a bird with strong bones.
i wish it were a fish, with slimy scales
i dream it may escape the way i want it inside that dream.
but my sister was the Cassandra.
her statements become true, and i have fear now
about this black bird in my palm
it is alive.
tomorrow, i ask myself, if i too shall learn
the art of
killing. I guess, she must be right.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tame Bird Was In A Cage
THE tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, 'O my love, let us fly to the wood.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Come hither, let us both live in the cage.'
Says the free bird, 'Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?'
'Alas,' cries the caged bird, 'I should not know where to sit perched in the sky.'
The free bird cries, 'My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands.'
The cage bird sings, 'Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned.'
The forest bird cries, 'No, ah no! songs can never be taught.'
The cage bird says, 'Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands.'
There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, 'Come closer, my love!'
The free bird cries, 'It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Alas, my wings are powerless and dead.'
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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VI
The tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, "O my love, let us fly to wood."
The cage bird whispers, "Come hither, let us both live in the
cage."
Says the free bird, "Among bars, where is there room to spread
one's wings?"
"Alas," cries the cage bird, "I should not know where to sit
perched in the sky."
The free bird cries, "My darling, sing the songs of the
woodlands."
The cage bird says, "Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of
the learned."
The forest bird cries, "No, ah no! songs can never be taught."
The cage bird says, "Alas for me, I know not the songs of the
woodlands."
Their love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing
to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to
know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, "Come closer, my
love!"
The free bird cries, "It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of
the cage."
The cage bird whispers, "Alas, my wings are powerless and dead."
poem by Rabindranath Tagore from The Gardener (1913)
Submitted by Silvia Velea
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Memories
I see wild waves that break, and breaking-run;
And the wild sea-birds wheeling round the ships;
But at the dawn, the coming of the sun,
I see your red, red lips.
I see the cold moon now with fresh delight;
And the stars arise anew, and yet arise;
But in the night, the blackness of the night
I see your sad, sad eyes.
I hear the engines throbbing as we ride;
And the men’s songs. I hear great throats
Rejoice.
But in the silence, when all the songs have died,
I hear your soft, soft voice.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Its That Fear
It's that fear
Ooo very scary! !
I bet you don't know it
Keeps you worried
It's that fear...
Very loud in your ear..
But not everyone could hear
It's that fear
Why? Y u even here
Leaving people in tears..
It's that fear
Born and raised
Can be of denial
Struggles, family or revival
It's that fear
That keeps consuming..
Consuming us in out! !
Eating us away...
It's that fear
The fear we hate
Come to us in pace
In life circumstance
It's that fear
Can anyone hear?
Like a monster or dear?
I wish it was fair..
it's that fear
Some say never fear
But in the back they tear
Overwhelmed can't even dare
Trying to overcome the fear..
It's that fear
The fear which keep us
Us alive and awake
Awake from unexpected
Awake to fight against
It's that fear
I want all to hear..
You and me here..
We need to chase Mr. Fear
We could make it
Make this a better world
Without the fear
The fear of loss
The fear of famine
The fear of war
The fear of poverty
The fear of religion
The fear of recognition
Why are we in fear...?
Can't it be there not here..
It's time to chase him out there
Leaving us in peace in here
It's that fear
The fear which is not only mine
It's that fear for all
The fear we both hear
Hear from different angles
Hear in different times
We all just don't want him here...
The fear we both imagine
An illusion body..
Could affect your goals
Never entertain that fear.
Ships Of The Night
Poems pass
in the night also.
Port starboard lights
burn bright also.
Poems pass stirred
hear wave slap night gongs?
Have you not heard
their salty soft saline songs?
Poems pass plotted
in navigated narrows; of lapping passage night.
Have you not heard
their soft spoken saline songs; by glow of candle light?
Poems pass navigated
in natant night also.
Daily cares contested
at last laid low below.
Poems pass
in shadow seamed night.
Poems pass
in nuptial nocturnal night flight.
Has not herald heard
silver shimmering saline songs?
Poems pass like flight of bird
as eternal endless night sails on.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Bird that lives forever
A geless and deathless Paliel vulture
One of African vulture species that
Lives in jonglei region of Sudan
Lives beyond any bird life span
When it bird life span finish
It stops to eat and drink
It plumes plummeted naturally
Until it come skinny
It start to metamorphoses
The beak, the legs grow soft fleshy
The body transform into battled slender creature
The two legs become small soft tails
The two wings become small fins
It gradually become an African youngest cobra
And again goes on living as snake beyond
Any snake lifespan in jonglei region.
When it become old, aile and about to die
It stops to eat and drink
It flake it dry scally-skin off
And become skinny
If fang fallen off
It two fins, tails project wings and legs
It grow plumes and feathers
It gradually grow until it
Become bird and fly up again
Paleil, dodge death by
Oldness in bird to youngness in snake
Oldness in snake to youngness bird
The catchyphrase!
Paleil lives forever in recuryring metamorphosis
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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I Adore You
(K.J.Garside C.Gray)
They open my window...in comes the light,
I froze in the corner...I pray for the night,
But if it's you my dear who turns on the light,
I'll eat from your hands as a bird with no fear no no,
fear.
Because I adore you,
I adore you,
I adore you,
I adore you.
Rise up my dark star...face into the night,
Come out of your corner..shine for the night,
if it's you my love who turns on the light,
I'll eat from your hands as a bird with no fear no no,
fear.
Because I adore you,
I adore you,
I adore you,
I adore you,
I adore you,
I adore you.
Climb out of the shadows...crawl into the night,
Fall out of the window...die to the night,
if it's you my love who turns on the light,
I'll eat from your hands as a bird with no fear no no,
fear.
Because I adore you...
song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song of Wrongs
Some songs are trapped, while other songs are free
Some songs can linger, while others need a key
Some songs look Heavenward to find a place to be
While most songs have homes, some songs aren't so lucky
Which song would you rather hear
The song of hope, or the song of fear
The song that has everything, or the song that needs care
The song you care nothing for, or the song you revere
I'd like to listen to all of those forgotten songs
Not the song of rights, I want the song of wrongs
I want the song of solitude hiding in the throngs
I want the song that has no place to which it belongs
poem by Bianca Free
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The Song Is Not Sad....
he once was a wild bird
who lives in no one's forest
always in flight
to an endless journey, until
he was caught in the cage of
civilization
where he was taught to sing
and what to sing
and when to sing the
prescribed songs
he had always been a sad black bird
for years and years and years
until he gets freed because the lock is
finally broken and the rails all turn to dust
because of rust
when he goes outside with his wings
he does not like it anymore
he forgets what he was once in the wild
he comes back
constructs and reconstructs his cage
exactly as it was once
given to him by force of circumstance
locks himself in
and then begins to sing again
do not tell me that it did not happen to you
the song is not sad.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Best If Gravelled
Under the bushes,
Is where they swept and kept their dirt.
It was under the bushes...
Priorities fed to ignore any weeding grew.
It was under the bushes everyone knew,
From where the soiling of the lawn began.
And there under the bushes,
They can be seen digging deep...
Burning the midnight oil,
And not getting a bit of sleep...
To bury any traces of denial.
But the maintaining of the lawn,
Manicured as visitors expect...
Would be best if gravelled,
As many disgusted visitors suggest!
And quickly under the bushes,
A working continues...
To smooth over the dirt,
With a time released scenting...
Hopefully used for all to forget,
The influence of the bushes...
And the planting of them all regret.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Again
I am here as
one sweet zero
nothing stops
a hollow heart.
Nothing stops
an empty table
But the unspoken
wish to fight.
Let me fall
when I am hearing
songs unwilling
to use voice.
Muted songs
of love to keep me
too far from
the open doors.
Long ago
unloaded faults
came the time
to let them go.
Please unlock
those smiles for me.
at sad hearts
I'd like to knock.
Came unlocked
the other worlds
I begun to hear
them singing
End of paint
a soothing silence.
Laughing tricks
searched for my bad luck
bringing me where
I've been found.
On the muddy bloody
rough path
Miles of life will
slide unfair.
Forcing run
My feet are speeding
Here I am
I'll catch the train.
Smothered into life.
Again.
Smothered into life
Again.
poem by Elena Sandu
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Little Bird Of Love And Desire
little bird of love and desire
do not perch upon a twig so far from me
fly a little bit closer
my heart is full of love and desire too
come closer and hover on the soft spot of my chest
there is a nest there
where you can rest
where you can soundly sleep
come little bird live with me
sing me the songs of love for i am weary
sing, sing, sing little bird and live with me
for i am weak and weary
when my eyes close little bird
come and heed this lover's last bid
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I swing my limbs!
But never lift an inch
From the magnetized Earth
And I realized though I sing
Not a bird,
And limbs are not wings!
a humble dedication to my brother poet Shridhar B S in gratitude!
* I hear a mutter though the Sun & Moon are not in good terms they never show the grudge, just rise and set in the familiar sky?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Fear Stops The Poetry
FEAR STOPS THE POETRY
Fear stops the Poetry-
Anxiety and Dread
Have no music-
When the Big world threatens to collapse,
One little person is silent and scared.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Little Blue Bird And The Old Man Under The Tree
and the old man with a sigh murmurs upon himself
'little bird, little bird,
how sweet is your song
how i wish i can listen
some more time'
and the little blue bird high on the tree stops to sing
and looks at the old man with pity
tweeting
'my dear old man
would you like to be a little blue bird some other time? '
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Laos
Dear girl, your cheeks are soft and tender,
And your breasts, like little hills, are slender,
Fall in love with me and from this instance
We will never live apart in distance.
My piragua, we will board together,
And the wind will set our sail untethered.
Should you wish to ride an elephant, dear,
I will be your loyal karnak there.
Should you turn into the moon one evening,
I’ll become a cloud so to be near you.
Should you be liana of the jungle
I will turn into a bird or a monkey.
On the mountain peak you climb, my dear,
Looking into the abyss with awe and fear
Even if they put my feet in irons,
I will climb that peak despite all tyrants.
Yet my skills are useless for tomorrow
I am destined for a bitter sorrow.
You don’t love me; so I soon start perish
Like a bull deprived of juicy daisies.
With no single kiss that I could cherish
On that cheek of yours so fresh and rosy.
poem by Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
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The Scorpion
My life, is everything, that feeds my thirst - like other's sin
My wants, are all I care, no shame or guilt - there's nothing there
Look deep into my face, I sell disease, without a trace
Fear not, but I can do, unless you, want it done to you
As I climb onto your back, I will promise not to sting
I will tell you what you want to hear and not mean anything
Then I treat you like a dog, as I shoot my venom in
You pretend you didn't know, that I am a scorpion
My self, and sentiment, there's nothing else, there's never been
My dream, to be left alone, where does sadness - the madness I'm on my own
Look deep, into my soul, its black as coal - like a bullet hole
Fear not, get off your knees, there's no defense - you'll do what I please
As I climb onto your back, I will promise not to sting
I will tell you what you want to hear and not mean anything
Then I treat you like a dog, as I shoot my venom in
You pretend you didn't know, that I am a scorpion
As I climb onto your back, I will promise not to sting
I will tell you what you want to hear and not mean anything
I will treat you like a dog, as I shoot my venom in
Cuz you knew all along, I am a scorpion
My lies, to rest assure, I agonize - at nothing more
My hopes, to steal away, all that you love - I'll soon betray
Look deep, into my past, the pain I deal - is unsurpassed
I'm not, a lowly scorpion, I'm so much worse - I'm the fall of man
song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Restrictions for migratory birds
I hear they make barbed wire fences and invisible meshes
Over the tourist Liberty islands sky.
Because they spend millions for cleaning bird droppings.
Not only that,
They are scared of bird songs too
As their politicians cannot sing as same as birds.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Bird
(9/15/12)
I saw a bird perched on a tree
I looked at him and he looked at me.
The strangest bird that I ever did see
He had a tail about four inches long
With that body it did not belong.
He had a body smaller than a sparrow
With a beak long and narrow.
He made a sound that I never heard
Not like one you'd hear from a bird.
It was not like the sounds of a love bird
Canary, or cockatoo, but a soft whistle
Which filled the air, and with all
Living things it wanted to share.
It was like a hypnotic sound
And turned my head completely around.
His soft whistling cry was like
A call to the wild
Brought flocks of birds
Of every color and style.
Landing on every branch of the tree
And left no empty space that I could see.
This was the most beautiful sight that
I had ever saw, and I knew
I will see it no more.
© L. RAMS
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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