Inspired by Issa - Abandoned nest
chirp, just one chirp
mom comes with feed
for chick
abandon nest
mother bird and its chick
having grown up
inspired by
alone he cries
the motherless bird...
autumn dusk
-Issa,1803
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo

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Weird-Bird
from the wire chirp
on the wire chirp
frantic head
to and fro
to and fro
chirp, chirp, chirp
little bird on a wire
head and beak
to and fro
to and fro
ten times in a second
tail up, tail down, tail up, tail down
the tight feathered bodice
doing a twist
legs angled tight on tiny wire
a tightrope walker
chirp, chirp, chirp
looking for some fun
looking for a companion to share its day
chirp, chirp, chirp
inspired by
Weird-Bird
Birds are flyin' south for winter.
Here's the Weird-Bird headin' north,
Wings a-flappin', beak a-chatterin',
Cold head bobbin' back 'n' forth.
He says, 'It's not that I like ice
Or freezin' winds and snowy ground.
It's just sometimes it's kind of nice
To be the only bird in town.'
Shel Silverstein
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo

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The Red Bird Lives
A red bird lands to rest
Upon a tree branch.
The red bird chirps
For his sibling,
The cat takes notice, quietly
It watches his prey,
The cat figure it had his
Dinner..
Slowly the cat takes aim
And leaps for the red bird.
The red bird takes flight to
To join his sibling.
The cats loses,
But the red bird lives to chirp
Chirp another day..
The cat meow while his stomach
Growls,
The cat watches for another
Chance to feed his hungry
Stomach..
So, the cat meows hoping
For a meal,
To cure his empty stomach..
poem by Carolyn Sears

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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

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Silent Answer
'Can't you take me with you'
asked the worm of the bird?
Chirp, chirp and gulp
was the last he ever heard.
poem by Edwina Reizer

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What Now Little Bird?
what now little bird?
you look around you
the nest is empty
and mother bird is far away
and siblings
have taken the first jump
to the pond
to learn to float
and then
fly
you think that mother-bird
comes back
to feed you with another worm?
no, little bird
no one is coming back for you
you do not even
know if you have a father-bird
to save you
no, little bird
do not wait
do not waste your time
the sun shines
and it is time
for you to go too
fly now
little bird
find the real meaning of your wings....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Morn birds, noon birds
the joyous chirp
of a sparrow
in the morn sky
sends a heaven into me
for a moment
i am the piano
and the chirp
a finger that sends
pleasant notes
reverberating
through my soul
this afternoon
heard the more
sedated chirps
of a bird on a wire
the halcyon noon
where the sun and
comfortable temperature
entice you to bed
note after note
the bird sings
wheeling nauseatic
nostalgic images
through my brain
school days,
childhood friends
and those days
that reminded us
of dream chasers
in a land of honey
the colour of light brown amber
inspired by
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo

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Peak
Peak is here
Peak is there
Go here go there
Go anywhere
and find peak
only peak.
Reach peak
find chick
with chic
be chief.
Chirp, chirp
keep, keep.
Where is peak
where is peak
It is only you
who can pick peak.
poem by Gajanan Mishra

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Fowl Politics
Sit in your light and sing to me little bird.
Sing of all the things in the world, right and wrong.
Chirp, Chirp, deceit in each sugar-coated word.
A ballad of battle a dangerous song.
I know your intent, you’re more hawk than sparrow.
Anything to win and to hell with the cost.
An elected man more mighty than Pharaoh.
It’s a democracy, but you’re the boss.
A little bird who can make so many die.
You expect me to believe what you say?
Even a child can tell that you lie.
Whatever you say, you lose every way.
A hawk and sparrow are both fowl, its true,
but so are the donkey and elephant too.
poem by Matthew Morgan

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autumn cold
lone bird's chirp
echoes my loneliness
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo

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Robin’s Secret
’T IS the blithest, bonniest weather for a bird to flirt a feather,
For a bird to trill and warble, all his wee red breast a-swell.
I ’ve a secret. You may listen till your blue eyes dance and glisten,
Little maiden, but I ’ll never, never, never, never tell.
You ’ll find no more wary piper, till the strawberries wax riper
In December than in June—aha! all up and down the dell,
Where my nest is set, for certain, with a pink and snowy curtain,
East or west, but which I ’ll never, never, never, never tell.
You may prick me with a thistle, if you ever hear me whistle
How my brooding mate, whose weariness my carols sweet dispel,
All between the clouds and clover, apple-blossoms drooping over,
Twitters low that I must never, never, never, never tell.
Oh, I swear no closer fellow stains his bill in cherries mellow.
Tra la la! and tirra lirra! I ’m the jauntiest sentinel,
Perched beside my jewel-casket, where lie hidden—don’t you ask it,
For of those three eggs I ’ll never, never, never, never tell.
Chirp! chirp! chirp! alack! for pity! Who hath marred my merry ditty?
Who hath stirred the scented petals, peeping in where robins dwell?
Oh, my mate! May Heaven defend her! Little maidens’ hearts are tender,
And I never, never, never, never, never meant to tell.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates

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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

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A Chicken's Life
we watch it from the beginning
an egg, plus days
hatching into a chick
seeing the first light
of the bulb
and the hen pushes
each chick into
the ground to feed
by themselves
until some feathers grow
beaks and claws
now we view a full grown
chicken,
at least, i am not talking
about a coward, do you understand?
do not, please,
chicken out from life's bitter days
we were babies
not chicks
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Inspired by Issa-Two kissing Cuckoos
fiery love at tree
on flaring dusk sun rests the silhoutte
of two kissing cuckoos
inspired
from the fir tree too
two are singing...
mountain cuckoos
-Issa,1803
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo

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Birds Nest
Have you not seen the bird
flying far, again and again
collecting straws to weave a nest-
a home- for its young ones to be.
As eggs are hatched
out come the young
chirping or crying, to be fed,
the bird flies again, and again
collecting grains
to feed the young
who cannot fly
It chews the grain but does not swallow
beak to beak it feeds young fellow
caressingly and lovingly
so all are fed properly.
Young get wings, by and by:
and coaxed by the mother bird;
attempt to fly.
Then suddenly one day
the young one flies far away
It knows not where: and
The nest gets barren,
Lonely...
The bird DOES NOT GRIEVE
OR DOES IT
We humans, we do not know.
Ode to the bird in the cypress tree
Ode to the bird in the cypress tree
~
I wish to be like the bird in the cypress tree
shaded from the heat of the midday sun
yet still free to ride upon the ocean breeze
whenever it chooses to blow from time to time
I wish to be like the bird in the cypress tree
and chirp my own little song aloud to the world
or to fly amongst the clouds so high above
and look down to watch the world below
I wish to be like the bird in the cypress tree
for all my wishes and day bought dreams
I am here and I am still me writing a poem
about that lucky bird perched in the cypress tree
poem by Matthew Holloway

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Chick-a-boom
Hey girl,
When ya swish and sway
In your yellow dress
cross a crowded room,
Boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom.
Hey girl,
Freckles on your arm,
Freckles on your face,
Cant we find a place
In a crowded room, we go
Boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom,
[boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom] (backup singers)
Boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom-boom]
Boom, boom, boom, chicka-boom.
A-hey, girl,
Im goin away,
But Im comin back
With a ginger cat.
What ya think a that?
Hey girl,
I goin away,
But Im comin back
By the railroad track,
Where the trains go by,
And we sit and we cry in the gloom,
Boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom]
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom-boom]
Hey girl,
[chicka-chicka-chicka-boom]
When ya swish and sway
In your yellow dress
cross a crowded room,
Boom,
Boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom]
Boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom-boom]
Chicka, chicka-boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-chicka-chicka-boom]
Chicka-chicka-boom-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom]
Chick, chicka-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom-boom]
Boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-chicka-chicka-boom]
Chicka-chicka-chicka-boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom]
Chick, chick, chicka-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom-boom]
Chick-chick-chick-chick-chick-chick-chick-chick,
Chick-chick-chick-chick, chicka-boom, chicka-boom,
Chicka-boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-chicka-chicka-boom]
Chick-chick, chicka, chick, chicka-boom, chicka-boom-boom,
[chicka-chicka-chicka-boom]
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom]
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom-boom]
song performed by by Van Morrison

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meditations Upon An Egg
1.
The egg's no chick by falling from the hen;
Nor man a Christian, till he's born again.
The egg's at first contained in the shell;
Men, afore grace, in sins and darkness dwell.
The egg, when laid, by warmth is made a chicken,
And Christ, by grace, those dead in sin doth quicken.
The egg, when first a chick, the shell's its prison;
So's flesh to the soul, who yet with Christ is risen.
The shell doth crack, the chick doth chirp and peep,
The flesh decays, as men do pray and weep.
The shell doth break, the chick's at liberty,
The flesh falls off, the soul mounts up on high
But both do not enjoy the self-same plight;
The soul is safe, the chick now fears the kite.
2.
But chicks from rotten eggs do not proceed,
Nor is a hypocrite a saint indeed.
The rotten egg, though underneath the hen,
If crack'd, stinks, and is loathsome unto men.
Nor doth her warmth make what is rotten sound;
What's rotten, rotten will at last be found.
The hypocrite, sin has him in possession,
He is a rotten egg under profession.
3.
Some eggs bring cockatrices; and some men
Seem hatch'd and brooded in the viper's den.
Some eggs bring wild-fowls; and some men there be
As wild as are the wildest fowls that flee.
Some eggs bring spiders, and some men appear
More venom'd than the worst of spiders are.[16]
Some eggs bring piss-ants, and some seem to me
As much for trifles as the piss-ants be.
Thus divers eggs do produce divers shapes,
As like some men as monkeys are like apes.
But this is but an egg, were it a chick,
Here had been legs, and wings, and bones to pick.
poem by John Bunyan

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Inspired by Issa - Cornerstone
new cornerstone -
all around black soft
tapoles flail
inspired by
cornerstone-
on New Year's morning
a bird without a nest
-Issa,1809
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo

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Inspired by Issa - On New Year's Day
New Year's Day
the same old feeling
of new year returns
inspired by
on New Year's Day
copying me?
bird without a nest
-Issa,1809
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo

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Gone
Everybody loved Chick Lorimer in our town.
Far off
Everybody loved her.
So we all love a wild girl keeping a hold
On a dream she wants.
Nobody knows now where Chick Lorimer went.
Nobody knows why she packed her trunk .. a few old things
And is gone,
Gone with her little chin
Thrust ahead of her
And her soft hair blowing careless
From under a wide hat,
Dancer, singer, a laughing passionate lover.
Were there ten men or a hundred hunting Chick?
Were there five men or fifty with aching hearts?
Everybody loved Chick Lorimer.
Nobody knows where she’s gone.
poem by Carl Sandburg

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