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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Related quotes
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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Poem about Poetry - The Real Poets
poets are birds
birds are poets
and the latter
are the truest poets
singing - from dawn till night and night till dawn
crowning the world
with their exuberant,
health giving and never ending poetry slam
first to flag off
the daily slam
would be the cockerels
sending our heart reeling
with the precision of
their poetic clock
they crow until the sun
has no choice but
to rise to the occasion
and then a thousand
other of their kinds
a million colourful plumes
in pomp and pageantry
high on cool shaded
majestic green podiums
begin their rumbunctious slam
their songs as diverse as their shines
every bird chips in
to make their slam the most powerful kind
some squawk,
some squeak
some chip chirp chap
some cry, crow, caw
some whistle, peep, screech
bark, croak, grunt, grumb
some plain quack
the best poets
chirp simple
mersmerising songs
slicing through
the first light
with their varying
tone, scale, metre, rhyme
cheering up the day
with full throated optimism
that could cure
any depressed heart
some twit delightful songs
chirp, chirp, chirp
chit chit chit chit chit chit
chi chiu chiu chiu chiu
twi wee twi wee twi wee
yer er er er eeeeeeeeer
so tenuous
and true
these feather poets
are in their art
they could put their
human cousins
in the novice basket
when it comes to
the world of poetry
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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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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Cricket
Cricket, cricket
chirping all the night.
Why don't you sleep
until the morning light?
I lay there abed
listening to you.
Sometimes you stop.
I think you are through.
But no, chirp, chirp
you start in again.
I'm up searching your sound
but it's then
you are silent
'til I'm back in bed.
You are relentless
and so it is I dread
another sleepless night.
I'll find you in the morn
and when I do,
You'll wish you'd not been born.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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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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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Why do Birds Chirp in the Trees?
why do little birds chirp so loud in the trees
in the early morn the sun a yellow fiery
globe inching its greeting up the eastern sky?
it is because of the the little birds' excitements
for adventures of the new day
where their wings would take them for worms
for mates, for games, for the breeze in the air
why do birds chirp so loud in the trees at the close of day
the sun a fiery red globe gliding through the coppice western sky
it is because they wish to share their adventures of the day
chiding each other to prove who have taken the most worms
the new mates they have come to know
and where they should head the next day
why do birds stay so quiet in the night
the moon a golden disc keeping watch over foes?
it is because God has pulled a blanket over
their mind so that they can rest and
find strength when the sun starts lighting up a new day
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Abstraction Fo The Word Chirp....
i hear birds chirping
early morning
on those trees
clouds arrive, light
spreads,
green becomes too green
in the fields of
life,
i hear birds chirping
sweet to my ear
i give it priority
abstract. delet morning
move out clouds from the picture
double click green fields
focus on life
delet birds
add volume to chirping
it is all chirping now
just chirping
chirping chirping
the essence of chirp.
i have abstracted it from
everything else.
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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Poems Are The Sparrows
Poems are the sparrows,
Swing they branch to branch,
In the green tree of poetry,
They chirp and pick the grain,
Of diction, thoughts, metaphors,
And bring in their beaks,
The straws of meters,
And thorns of realities.
Poems are the Sparrows,
Build their nests place to place,
In the valleys of poetic minds,
To lay and hatch eggs of wisdom,
Awake they early in the morn,
To sing hymn, when gently
Breeze begins to blow, to and fro.
The sparrows chirp in my heart,
And when hiding behind the tassels,
Extend I my hand to them to catch,
They fly away; and when I scatter
The grain, they cluster around me,
To sing the chorus of love and peace,
My restless heart then pours
Them on pages of the book,
And the starving ears become,
Impatient to listen to the honeyed,
Lines of love.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Minor Bird
i tune up my brain
each morn
in the chirps of birds
filling out blanks
as to what they are saying
a prayer?
reliving
yesterday's adventures?
the spot where they had hit gold
with worms?
from (or to) my slumberland
come poems
haikus, senryus
as i count syllables
each bird
tries out in its song
far and near
in so many ways
they chirp
plain notes,
broken notes
syncopated notes
improvised gems
some so skillful
i think
they are trumpeting
their way
up the evolution chain
to become finer
creatures than homo sapiens
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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The Naturist or A Neighbour
There he goes again;
he's dancing in the garden!
His arms go up in gestures to the trees.
The birds all chirp and twitter,
the cat's fur stands on end
to spy his bits
all blowing in the breeze!
There he goes again,
he's in the altogether!
He frolics and
his buttock cheeks do gleam!
The neighbours are agog
as he sits astride a log,
their noses twitch
to view the funny scene.
There he goes again!
Bizarre but very merry!
He doesn't give a damn
or care a fig!
He'll prance about for hours
just sniffing at the flowers
as he snags his
ooh la, la upon a twig!
He doesn't care for clothes
or anything so formal.
He's out to be abnormal
and it shows!
There he goes again,
he's dancing as the rain falls
and the water drips
like diamonds off his nose!
poem by Ruth Walters
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Chirping Bird
chirping bird chirping bird
chirp no more
the sun has come
and it is time for you to sing
chirping bird sing
chirping bird sing a song for the sun
it has come
to give you the clouds and the air and
the song for you to sing
chirping bird chirping bird
sing with the sun
sing that song for me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The House Sparrows
The house sparrows in Spring under house eaves build their nests of hay
And renowned for their chirping they chirp all the day
In cypress and hedges from predators they hide
Familiar in gardens they are known Worldwide.
Brought to this Land by people from Lands far away
Around human dwellings they are happy to stay
Of shyness and lack of self confidence house sparrows are free
And on their worth or lack of worth some choose to disagree.
Originally from Africa of the weaver family
In gardens and Parklands them one often see
Familiar in their feathers of light gray and brown
They search for crumbs under the park benches in the parks of the Town.
The common house sparrows are birds everyone know
Familiar to gardens and to the hedgerow
Classified as songbirds though they don't have a song
They are famed as chirpers they chirp all day long.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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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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The dim silence of my mind seems filled with crickets' chirp--the grey twilight of sound.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bird's Song
always one sudden chirp
in the first light
trailed off by the excited
twits of a flock.
birds in the giant trees
outside my window,
how timely they are each morn,
I wonder they take turns
to greet each new day.
the same hour,
these little creatures
set their time
on a body clock
to herald in new adventures.
their scintillating
morn chatters
strike my curiosity
about their tales.
one must get the bettle
that escaped capture yesterday
still hiding in its hole perhaps,
the other still prays
to have the same fat worm
he had yesterday and
is definitely heading
for the same promising place,
another wonders when
it would rain,
one lone weak twitter
that seems out of place
thinks today
might be another paltry day
with little catch.
pessimism is all over,
isnt it, not only
among us homo sapiens?
the courting, the holidaying
the scores of tales
that fly in the tree
awake me to my own day's mission.
i join the birds in
their day i find not
quite different from mine.
i wonder whether they pray too
for a good day though? i would
gladly join them in their hymns.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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