Sparrows smattering,
dawn's yawn spawns cheep chattering,
shadows scattering.
haiku by Jonathan Robin (29 June 2006)
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136 Syllables at Rocky Mountain Dharma Center
Tail turned to red sunset on a juniper crown a lone magpie cawks.
Mad at Oryoki in the shrine-room -- Thistles blossomed late afternoon.
Put on my shirt and took it off in the sun walking the path to lunch.
A dandelion seed floats above the marsh grass with the mosquitos.
At 4 A.M. the two middleaged men sleeping together holding hands.
In the half-light of dawn a few birds warble under the Pleiades.
Sky reddens behind fir trees, larks twitter, sparrows cheep cheep cheep
cheep cheep.
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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A Story Made
The table with its sunshade wide,
listened to the chattering.
Old and young sat side by side
around it, gaily nattering.
The birds perched nearby in the trees,
listened to the chattering
rising up on a light breeze.
Indeed the sounds were shattering.
The sun that shone down from the sky,
listened to the chattering.
Knew that once the rain came by,
there would be gentle pattering.
The young and old who felt the drops,
ceased to do the chattering.
Went indoors under rooftops,
resuming their loud yattering.
The sunshade dripping from the hail,
listened to the chattering.
Felt so sorry for a snail,
getting such a harsh battering.
The chairs where everyone had sat,
listened to the chattering.
Many were now lying flat.
there had been quite a scattering.
And so all these things a story made,
all about the chattering.
The elements well displayed,
when all received a splattering.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Autumn Evening
The Shadows flickering, the daylight dying,
And I upon the old red sofa lying,
The great brown shadows leaping up the wall,
The sparrows twittering; and that is all.
I thought to send my soul to far-off lands,
Where fairies scamper on the windy sands,
Or where the autumn rain comes drumming down
On huddled roofs in an enchanted town.
But O, my sleepy soul, it will not roam,
It is too happy and too warm at home:
With just the shadows leaping up the wall,
The sparrows twittering; and that is all.
poem by Frances Darwin Cornford
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The Katydids
Sometimes I keep
From going to sleep,
To hear the katydids 'cheep-cheep!'
And think they say
Their prayers that way;
But _katydids_ don't have to _pray_!
I listen when
They cheep again
And so, I think, they're _singing_ then!
But, no; I'm wrong,--
The sound's too long
And all-alike to be a song!
I think, 'Well, there!
I do declare,
If it is neither song nor prayer,
It's _talk_--and quite
Too vain and light
For me to listen to all night!'
And so, I smile,
And think,--'Now I'll
Not listen for a little while!'--
Then, sweet and clear,
Next '_cheep_' I hear
'S a _kiss_.... Good morning, Mommy dear!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Tale of City Morn
The city sleeps til dawn’s spawned fly-by-night
Across a sky which echoes sparrows’ cheep.
Life, like a clock rewound, from slumber deep
Emerges to encourage future flight.
On time tight schedules trigger traffic light,
Frame complex contexts within which men reap
Care or joy, employ their talents, sweep
In rewards, vexed disappointment’s plight.
Things simple seem through black and white:
Yesterday, now bottom of the heap,
Mirrors distortions of tomorrow’s keep, -
Our flair's aware of changing air in sight.
Restructured daily, life’s mosaic shows
New threads f[l]ed into future’s spreadsheet flows.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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When breaking a dream at dawn.
Day is fun and laughter
Night is sleep and yawn
But there's no smiles after
When breaking a dream at dawn.
You may think you were having a good one
You realise it's not bad
Some are really fun
While others are very sad.
Some have people dying
Some have people drifting
Most of them are crying
Because their soul is lifting.
Day is fun and laughter
Night is sleep and yawn
But there's no smiles after
When breaking a dream at dawn.
poem by Marin Christiana Richardt
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Tree Sparrows
Than their cousins house sparrows they are far more shy
The moment they see you into bushes or trees they do fly
They do look attractive when seen in the sunlight
Though in colouration from the house sparrows the difference does seem slight.
Tree sparrows are birds one doesn't see every day
From human dwellings from their cousins they live further away
For insects and seeds they search on the ground
And in Winter in flocks their numbers abound.
Like house sparrows chirpers they too cannot sing
But than house sparrows more wary of humans which is a good thing
They seem rather restless when humans are near
One might say of them their's is a healthy fear.
In grassy places near bushes and trees them I often do see
But they fly into cover when they notice me
Their cousins compared to them seem rather tame
Tree sparrows for them is an often used name.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Pair Of Sparrows!
A pair of twittering sparrows I see;
What a great wonder sparrows are!
Due to constructions of concrete jungles
Sparrows are driven out farther and farther!
So, they take shelter in high way trees;
Even those trees are cut for laying highways
And the sparrows are driven out still far away!
What kind of guys are they who take shelter
Under the trees in summer time but not
Think of pouring even a dropp of water to it?
Extension of concrete jungles destroys trees
And drives away a few sparrows too forever!
Is this called progress in the modern world?
Or is this a harbinger of apocalypse of the whole?
poem by Ramesh T A
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Dark Becomes Dawn
Dark as pitch - Dawn spreads light
Dark as dead - Dawn expires graves
Dark withers - Dawn freshness wears
Dark un-paths - Dawn re-strides.
Dark dapples gray - Dawn paints days
Dark specters doubt - Dawn assuredness' gate
Dark limitless plain - Dawn corrals night
Dark swifts shadows - Dawn hastens un-obscures.
Dark dissolves pace - Dawn zeniths one's range
Dark devours - Dawn sun rises
Dark bends down relief - Dawn uplifts sight
Dark dismantles - Dawn scatters golden arrows.
Dark de-flames - Dawn matches day
Dark invisibles - Dawn globes light
Dark unfolds dark dreams - Dawn un-sanctions screams
Dark submissively retires - Dawn crimson splendor.
'2008'
poem by Robert Sheridan
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Shadows
The rising of the moon wakes up the shadows
and commands them to emerge from the dark.
The daylight shadows are disappearing fast
with the sparrows the dove and the lark.
As always the light makes way for darkness
as it’s chased from night’s time and space.
The dark shapes seek out those of the light,
at this hour there’s no hiding place.
The shadows of the darkness will not submit,
away from the light they’re there.
Instinctively they wait until it’s eerie
then venture where nothing else dare.
After a night of changing shape and haunting
the shadows themselves feel fear.
The daylight is coming up on the horizon
and the night shadows flee and disappear.
poem by Orlando Belo
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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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A Yawn
Sees a yawn
Gets infected
With the yawn
And a yawn
Too by itself
Then it tries to
Sleep to
Get some sleep to
Count the ships
And the sheep
A very tired poem
Yawns
But never sleeps
a tired poem
No more it is simply
A poem
Sleepless
True to
Its nature.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Wanted To Make Love To Monica
When Monica saw me sleeping
One day at dawn upon the wet grass,
She asked me, “Isn’t that a peculiar place to sleep? ”
I raised my waking eyes to look at her,
Her body was supple and sexy,
But not the stunning body of fifteen years ago,
She had gained a slight belly,
Somehow making her even more alluring;
I said, “It’s not such a bad place to rest,
The sparrows serenade me with joyous songs.”
I wanted to make love to Monica,
But I fondly gazed at one of my little sparrows
And went back to sleep.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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An Elegy to the Clouds
O! clouds beyond a human’s grasp,
What could it be that moves you so?
Can something this alive in mass,
Be shot with just a windy bow,
Around the meadows mountain pass?
Surely beauty pure as thee-
(Capable of moving me) ,
Must be the champion of the sky.
And gatekeeper to all above it-
Deciding when the sun shall shine,
Shrouding stars upon a whim,
While dressing moonlight, end to end-
Gathering for a blizzard.
You are the messengers of dawn,
For when the sun peeks from below,
‘Tis you that keeps his colors so,
Yellow, orange, soft crimson,
A metamorphosis of moments,
Caught within the skylines yawn,
As sparrows raise their tongues in song.
Oh clouds, I beseech thee to
Part with but a bit of wisdom,
One insignificant truth,
Held within your heavenly body.
Whisper to me a lesson….
“See things as us clouds do”
Hung above the earth in thought
And blown about, yet not distraught
poem by Lazarus Knix
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Black & white and shades of grey.
The curfew marks the fading of the light.
Now is the time when shadows congregate.
In hidden corners where they wait.
To welcome eagerly the fall of night.
Although by daylight forced to hide from sight.
The fall of darkness sets the shadows free
To go about their business secretly.
The quiet hours when the shadows claim their right.
But dawn will come and with the dawn daylight.
The shadows then are forced to hide away.
Throughout the day, to wait impatiently
Counting the hours until the fall of night.
Though where the shadows hide no man can say
With any degree of accuracy.
Tuesday,07 February 2012
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Watching until dawn
matches embers' umber gleam,
some sentinels yawn.
haiku by Jonathan Robin (10 January 1993)
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Subtle Handing Over
The day saunters in
And night slowly withdraws,
Nodding to the dawn…
Between covers, I yawn
And watch in awe.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Sparrows too go unspared
We gallop in development
Minding not what we leave behind
We vow to protect environment
We observe World Environment Day
We launch Project Tigers
We pledge to ensure survival of wild life
All these go to indicate
That our activities are going to have
Negative impact on other living systems
We have come to talk about sparrows now
And celebrate, nay we should observe,
World Sparrows Day on 20 March
These tiny brisk little ones
Are nice to watch
And they nowhere compete with you
As their share on our resources
Is negligible
We did not even spare them
An earlier report says
These cute ones
Have practically vanished
From cities
Where it is ensured that
Everyone is in a communication network
Through tall microwave towers
Erected over all possible locations
These communicating waves
Are fine for men and women
But threaten the very existence of sparrows
We feel now that we need to protect them
But how can we do that
With those towers emanating
Dangerous life-threatening microwaves
That have telling effect
On the survival of sparrows
If we are really serious about sparrows
Either these communication networks
Are to be disbanded
Or a separate micro-wave-free
Sparrows' world is to be created
We really need to re-examine
Our ways of communication
If we seriously long to hear
The chirps of Sparrows again
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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On the house
We've
all dined out
on a good story
sometimes
there's even
a smattering of truth.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Dew
As dew leaves the cobweb lightly
Threaded with stars,
Scattering jewels on the fence
And the pasture bars;
As dawn leaves the dry grass bright
And the tangled weeds
Bearing a rainbow gem
On each of their seeds;
So has your love, my lover,
Fresh as the dawn,
Made me a shining road
To travel on,
Set every common sight
Of tree or stone
Delicately alight
For me alone.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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