Fledgling Arisen after Wanda Lea Brayton 1948
Fledgling's wings flutter for first flight
nascent sing-song stutters, sight
set on branch which from branch will lead
to pace race search for space with speed.
In place of premature demise
adventure calls from welcome skies,
fate fortunate sees risks recede,
no hobbled haemoglobin bleed.
Storms scents warn to prevent surprise
as keen preened instincts swift surmise
that nestling's boughs, like river reed
bend, balm awaiting, prudent creed.
Instinctive trust in branch, bough, lies
within to win that life supplies
as evolution helps succeed
the fittest Nature guaranteed.
Far from black hole of Death's dark night
forefathers flew, found expedite
ways to evolve, and safe proceed
from perils to fair future freed.
(11 January 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Like a snapped branch
Like a snapped branch
I am bended before You my Lord
and at Thy feet I want to learn at Thy knees
and I am torn into pieces and weak
and I see the sparkle of your heavenly roof
and the beautiful nature that honour You.
Like a snapped dried out branch
I am broken before You my Lord
and Your decisions of my fate hits me down to earth
and it feels as if I sink away into the dark swamp
without being able to stop it
and I crave a sign, star or miracle to exorcise the evil
or I will always be like a snapped branch.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Branches In Time
A young tender
branch
is easily bent
into submission.
As time goes
by
maturity begins
to set in
the branch
grows stronger.
With each passing
day
she becomes able to
carry the leaves
attached
Until one day
raising her arms
high into the sky
a mature branch
emerges
refusing to bend
anymore.
poem by Heather Burns
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From Worm To Wings
they always follow through
guided by their instincts
they always follow the lead
an obedient crowd
no one really knows where
they would really go
you look at at them and
have this sense of worry
the shortage of the leaves
the endless walk on the branch
some have fallen
and you try to pick them
and let them be
unknown to you
is nature's law
the survival of the fittest
that those who become
butterflies
are those that never stop
to try to eat
and then to be transformed
from worm to winged
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The executive branch has grown too strong, the judicial branch too arrogant and the legislative branch too stupid.
quote by Lyn Nofziger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Y.. Tree of Life
The tree of life
It has a branch
A money making branch
The bigger the money making branch
The more comfortable our life
But if the money making branch
Is the only branch
On our tree of life
It is such an ugly and unstable tree.
A prayer and devotion branch
Will stabilize the tree of life
Let it be a real big branch
On your tree of life
But if only two branches on a tree
Imagine how ugly it would still be!
So let there be branches
Of Affability and Charity
Of Cheerfulness and Friendliness
Of Gentleness and Honesty
Of Humility and Compassion
Of Spirituality and Wisdom
Of Courage and Hard work
With these branches present,
It will carry soon the lush greenery
Of love and job satisfaction
And soon enough, the tree of life
Will bear the fruits
Of peace of mind and happiness.
A wonderful tree of life I wish you
with many fine branches
and lots of greenery and fruits.
poem by Aufie Zophy
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An olive branch
Can that happen ever?
Wars are averted forever
Olive branch in one hand with message of peace
For millions of people to live at ease
Many may doubt and see it as impossible
The wars are imposed and forcible
Slight provocation can engulf entire world
No country can afford to keep the relation in cold
Has world ever witnessed winning of war without fight?
Who would judge our action and emphatically say right?
Can peace be taken as last hope to see the light?
The peace should not be lost out of sight
Yes, mere gesture or process with olive branch is imprcaticable
The impossible result is achieved through and histroy can be tracable
World with the piles of atmoic weapons can’t dare to fight
Only peace with olive branch can lead us and make it alright
There may be threat behind olive branch diplomacy
Still it has increased the peace efforts with frequency
The world doesn’t want misery in the form of another war
We have missed opportunity but still are not very far
With deterrence on one hand and olive branch on another
The blame may be passed on to others
There may still be hidden efforts to defuse
No one may want wart but refuse
Olive branch strategy is right means of persuation
The war is ruled out and is out of question
There may be complete annihilation and destruction
It can succeed with powerful message and instruction
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Tree And The Branch
the tree looks
upon a branch
where a ripe
fruit is hanging
the tree says
it is mine
the branch say
i am holding it
the tree says
the branch too
belongs to it
angry about the
tree's greed
the branch lets go off
the ripe fruit
a hungry child
picks it up
and goes home
with a happy heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Their Flight South
the tree bent by summer's storms,
prepares to shed her leaves.
and all signs of life,
leave branch and nook,
as beauty is revealed.
the weathered branch
stirred by the wind,
scratches against my chest.
sunlight weeps while shadows play,
and the sap drips with want.
the tongue of desire
wrapped around the balls of longing,
the dialogue of touching begins!
and winter's snows wait in perfect awe,
as the birds begin their flight south!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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On Seeing Tawny Frogmouths
At nightfall the birds known as tawny frogmouth come out in family groups of three or four
They do not have a song the only sounds they do make is a sort of a low pitched nasal snore
In the wooded parkland they fly from tree to tree in their search for tree insects and flies
And they return to roost on their roosting trees at the dawning just before sunrise,
Quite expert at camouflage in their colours of brown lengthwise on a bare branch of a tree
In the bright light of day they look part of the branch they are almost impossible to see
Disguised from the prying eyes of predators in safety they rest Nature never ceases to amaze
Of her so little we do seem to know we are strangers to Nature's ways,
Related to the nightgars nocturnal insect eating birds though frogmouths far greater in size
For better vision in dimlight the night birds 'twould seem than day birds have far larger eyes,
I have seen the frogmouths at nightfall in the park near my home almost tame to them I approached near
Of human kind so little they seem to know so of humans they show little fear,
From tree to tree in the parkland they fly these quiet brown birds of the night
So well camouflaged on their bare roosting branch they seem part of the tree in daylight.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Wings Of Silk
In a flight of silken silence
Wings of velvet stroke
Pinions soft as melted butter
With touch as light as smoke
Huge bright eyes of earthen brown
Ne'er ceasing to peer around
To perceive the vole's
most minute sound
Then… as if a ghostly
Downy dart
Wings of silk
Spread wide apart
A muted squeak
Stop'd short in surprise
And from the snow
Doth feathered phantom rise
Then talons spread
Returns to lurch
Onto it's branch
Upon which to perch
And ‘neath the branch
Said vole will soon to fall
Snug again…wrap't tight within
It's very own fur-ball
poem by David Whalen
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All About Two Friends
Two true friends they were.
A kite and a sparrow living in a tree.
They chit-chatted all day long
And forgot the rest of the world.
None an nothing could separate them
There came a dark and short man once
Who smiled and smiled at the sparrow and
Said aloud, 'It can`t be, how is it that you are here now?
The sparrow turned pale and looked at his friend, the kite.
The little man was looking into a foliage now.
Two true friends they were.
The kite murmered into the ears of his friend,
'Fear not my friend, I shall take you to another tree high and tall
And save you from this dark and short brute..come with me'.
As they flew off unto a far away tree, the'brute'down still smiled.
Two true friends they were.
The kite made the pal sit on a tall branch and said,
'It`s safe here, let me go back and ask that brute who he is? '
The bigger winged beauty flew back to old tree and the'dark brute'
And he hovered around both for some time.
The dark and the short man heard the kite speak,
'Who are you to speak to my friend and why did you speak such words? '
The smiling 'brute'said, 'Oh bird, I am the god of death and as per my book
Thy friend, the sparrow should be on the top of a far off tree
And should have been eaten by a huge snake by now, and therefore alone
I spoke to your friend words'.
Shocked, the flew back to the tree high and tall,
His friend the sparrow was not there on any branch!
Down across the shrubs was moving a big python after feasting on the prey.
The kite flew off unto the skies infinite next.
He and his late friends were two true friends.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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They Too Dangle
If you suck the sap from the tree,
To feed your own interests...
Without seeking ways to replenish,
OR preserve what's left...
You sap the life from the tree.
And guess what?
Have you ever observed yourself,
Dangling from a branch?
Connected to it as the leaf you are,
Leeching.
Well...
That branch from which you leech,
Is connected to that tree...
From which you attempt to leave sapless.
And surrounding your unconscious doing,
Are others who are not as thoughtless.
But like you...
They too dangle,
Precariously with similar sefishness.
Until they dropp from that same tree...
Lifeless.
But you,
And those like you...
Wish to speed up that process!
With your frenzied greed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Helplessness
The bird of heart,
Swooped and swooped,
Exhausted in flights,
Its wings are now conked out,
For branch to branch it nestled,
Farm to farm it picked the grain,
Place to place it slaked hunger,
The world is a delusion,
Flights plucked out its feathers,
No plunge proved resultant,
All around death dances,
Time worn out the extremities,
Who should in the mortal world,
Contest wrestle against time.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Fools Let It Fly
Success has wings
It never perches
On a branch longer ,
It flies from one to another
wise waits
with a cage to catch
but fools let it fly
and meet with failure
which has broken wings
perches on a branch longer.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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A Creed Indeed
I have a creed:
In word and deed
I will proceed
Without the greed
That can impede
Me to succeed.
I will feed
But not exceed.
I won’t use weed;
I’ll often read,
And be studied,
And thus be freed
From the need
To be pitied;
But not envied
And, too, copied.
Besides varied,
I’ll be journeyed;
My home tidied
(Maybe married) .
If I’m bullied
I'd rather plead,
And maybe bleed
Than be dirtied.
Advice I’ll heed
And not mislead
My future seed.
When I’m wearied
I’ll be carried,
But when readied
Myself will lead.
I will not cede,
Perform misdeed,
Or stay worried
My life.
Agreed?
-written and submitted by
poem by Shadigo Claws
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Saint Germain-En-Laye
(1887-1895)
Through the green boughs I hardly saw thy face,
They twined so close: the sun was in mine eyes;
And now the sullen trees in sombre lace
Stand bare beneath the sinister, sad skies.
O sun and summer! Say in what far night,
The gold and green, the glory of thine head,
Of bough and branch have fallen? Oh, the white
Gaunt ghosts that flutter where thy feet have sped,
Across the terrace that is desolate,
And rang then with thy laughter, ghost of thee,
That holds its shroud up with most delicate,
Dead fingers, and behind the ghost of me,
Tripping fantastic with a mouth that jeers
At roseal flowers of youth the turbid streams
Toss in derision down the barren years
To death the host of all our golden dreams.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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A Broken Branch, A Fervent Tree
Such compassion and beauty be,
With the comfort strongly felt,
A friendship intensely made,
By the obstacles both sides have dealt.
I have no life without my other half,
No laughter unfeigned, no smile undelayed,
Immensely crafted into a bond,
So resilient and true, yet not dismayed.
I am a branch without a tree,
If I'm not with you, I fall, I am unbalanced,
You are my inner strength, my inner warmth,
A clandestine unglanced.
Such a friend you are,
A friend that one could never imagine,
A feeling of mirth and undeniable care,
As warm as a joyful grin.
I am a branch without a tree,
Incomplete without a tree,
I am the branch, you are the tree,
A broken branch, a fervent tree.
- a poem for Lorena -
- a poem for CHULCZ -
poem by Nashy Lamen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A fair chance
Can that happen ever?
Wars are averted forever
Olive branch in one hand with message of peace
For millions of people to live at ease
Many may doubt and see it as impossible
The wars are imposed and forcible
Slight provocation can engulf entire world
No country can afford to keep the relation in cold
Has world ever witnessed winning of war without fight?
Who would judge our action and emphatically say right?
Can peace be taken as last hope to see the light?
The peace should not be lost out of sight
Yes, mere gesture or process with olive branch is imprcaticable
The impossible result is achieved through and histroy can be tracable
World with the piles of atmoic weapons can’t dare to fight
Only peace with olive branch can lead us and make it alright
There may be threat behind olive branch diplomacy
Still it has increased the peace efforts with frequency
The world doesn’t want misery in the form of another war
We have missed opportunity but still are not very far
With deterrence on one hand and olive branch on another
The blame may be passed on to others
There may still be hidden efforts to defuse
No one may want wart but refuse
Olive branch strategy is right means of persuation
The war is ruled out and is out of question
There may be complete annihilation and destruction
It can succeed with powerful message and instruction
The strongest survive and weakest suffer
The weak surrender and always offer
They play the pawn inpower game
The peace is elluded and can never come
It is the strongest will power that must emerge
The war at no cost must raise head and surge
It is duty of all peace loving people
Weather strong, weak patient or able
The peace has to be given fair trial
No one can dare to offer any denial
It is need of the hour and necessacity
We can prove it with our ability
The world is at the brink of war
The dark clouds appear and are not very far
Evey moment the peace is threatened
The stand of enemy is always hardened
We got to carve out the peace strategy
It can be in form of peace mission with energy
The world leaders too are striving very hard
We must strengthen their hand and look forward
“The peace mus be given a fair chance”
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Lines In The Sky
Laying on my back in a wild wooded area
Late November, amid an early dusk,
A few clouds chase the sun
Into the West.
Looking upward and around
Strange and mingled forms do I see,
Blending with and deviding apart
Each and every dark coursed tree.
All is so still and serene
With not even a splinter of sound;
Though senses tell
Something very real is residing
Upon this ephemeral scene...
A much deeper meaning
Simply awaiting to be found.
Beauty and mystery a mix
An inspired, almost eerie sight
One seldom seen, less often noticed,
And only by those who so search
On the very edge of a cold winter night.
Like black boney arms and fingers
Reaching down from the sky
Those destitute illusions
That both live and die!
Coming down with enigmatic riddles to speak
The kind seldom dared by souls to seek.
In them the flames of heaven and hell
Burn so close to each other
Almost as if to show
Once upon a time all were natural brothers.
Light and shadow in this world coinside
And coexist,
Both contemplation and action
Are means of grace that none should resist.
Life, like lines aglow in an ever darkening sky,
Like the free wind beginning to fly,
Stands continuously at the very edge,
A tenebrous silhouette drawn by light
Aching to break the tight grip of night.......
For even in the dark death of winter
The fragile branch still holds the living bud of eternal spring,
Only awaiting the all new life
That the returning sun -someday- shall bring.
'When you are close to nature you can listen to the voice of God. ' - Hermann Hesse
poem by Smoky Hoss
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In Matty Owens Bog
The pipe of the curlew I fancy I hear
In Matty Owens bog many miles north of here
In the calm of a June evening melodious and clear
In Summer a beautiful time of year
By the watery bog hole with her blotched eggs neath her breast
Cloaked by the rank rushes his quiet wife sits on her nest
The curlews of the future to life she will bring
The beauty of Nature is an amazing thing.
The pink breasted bullfinch so lovely to see
Perched on a high branch of a silver birch tree
One that one could stand and admire all day long
The beautiful bird with an ordinary song.
In the river pool the moorhen utters her shrill warning cry
To her young to alert them of danger nearby
Three tiny dark chicks with red faces mum's warning does heed
And swim into cover to hide in the reed.
Above Matty Owens bog in the still of the night
The male snipe with his tail in the Summer moonlight
He proclaims his territory in the night sky
And drums out a warning to other male snipe as he fly.
poem by Francis Duggan
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