Starling
The starling in the ivy now,
For to amuse his dear,
Mimics the dog, the cat, the cow,
Blackbird and Chanticleer.
The starling's an accomplished mime:
Between his love-making
He solaces her brooding-time
By many a madcap thing.
He is the saw, the spade, the scythe,
He rings the dinner bell;
Chuckles of laughter, small and blithe,
Of self-laudations tell.
Now by the battle-field he mocks
As though 'twere but a game,
Thunder with which the belfry rocks
And the great bursts of flame.
Till when the merriment will pall
He turns to love again,
Calling his love-sick gurgling call
Above the dying men.
Who knows what dream the starling weaves
Of boyhood, soft and clean?
A small room under golden eaves
To which the sun looks in.
The starling's talking in the thatch,
Bidding the boy arise;
And the door's opening on the latch
To show -- his mother's eyes.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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A Passing Bell
Mournfully to and fro, to and fro the trees are waving;
What did you say, my dear?
The rain-bruised leaves are suddenly shaken, as a child
Asleep still shakes in the clutch of a sob—
Yes, my love, I hear.
One lonely bell, one only, the storm-tossed afternoon is braving,
Why not let it ring?
The roses lean down when they hear it, the tender, mild
Flowers of the bleeding-heart fall to the throb—
It is such a little thing!
A wet bird walks on the lawn, call to the boy to come and look,
Yes, it is over now.
Call to him out of the silence, call him to see
The starling shaking its head as it walks in the grass—
Ah, who knows how?
He cannot see it, I can never show it him, how it shook—
Don’t disturb him, darling.
—Its head as it walked: I can never call him to me,
Never, he is not, whatever shall come to pass.
No, look at the wet starling.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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The Green Starling
When you look at the green starling
it screams in the long grass,
gleams green in the morning dew
and catches your eye
as it comes out of a hole, out of a tree,
as it picks up insects at a small stream
as it comes out,
as it comes out
as if caught in your daydream.
When you look at the green starling
it sparkles here and there
as if it sometimes is holding onto rays
and it warbles
stretches out under the sun,
view it as a red balloon
stretches out
stretches out
and it would fly away if it could.
When you look at the green starling
it pecks at a sorrel
when at times it holds onto a big worm
before it sings a song of joy
flies up fluttering, spreading its wings
and for moments distract you,
flies up fluttering
flies up fluttering
and so a whole mornings swishes past.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The well [Fântâna]
I
I know a small well in the shadowy vale
A chirping gold starling has urged me to sleep
Beneath the high poplars, with green foliage veil,
Forgetting the city where my sigh was deep.
I know a small well in the shadowy vale
A blackbird I talked to down there, for it pried,
When learned that I suffered and heard my sad wail,
Laughed loudly and deeply, but I only sighed...
I know a small well in the shadowy vale
II
In foliage lies hidden the white-looking vale
And what have I wanted in this passing world?
I pity myself, the sad folks who prevail...
O, you, finely chirping and nice golden bird
In foliage lies hidden the white-looking vale
Its spring in the morning is kissed by the sky,
With it flows my fate, beginning to fail,
O, blackbird whose laughter is not gonna die!
The small hidden well turns white in the vale.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Spring
Good morning dear daddy,
Good morning dear mum,
Good morning dear Teddy,
It looks the spring has come.
Awakened at the dawn
My dream at once has gone.
I’ve heard the song of starling,
Our feathered friends are coming.
The sparrows are chirping,
The titmouse is whistling,
The starling pours the trills,
The warmth of spring it feels.
The magic sounds fill the world
The drops from roofs are pearled.
These drops are ringing,
The whole world is singing.
The sparrow’s song cares the ear,
Its sounds are magic and fair,
And here was my thought:
On its wings the spring was brought.
Birds are scurrying around
For a nest to be found.
All around is in the motion
Seeking for the devotion.
The starlings rise into the sky.
I also wish to fly.
My heart began to think,
The sun began to wink.
***
The days are getting longer and brighter.
A lot of time for a poet and a writer.
A lot of time to think everything over
And…….to become…….A Doer!
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
March 20th,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Hello, Darling!
- Hello, darling!
- Hello, starling!
- How are you, beauty?
- How are you, cutie?
- All is well, honey.
- All is well, sunny.
- Please, let’s stop this game!
Have you also forgotten my name?
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Bird Life
Perched upon an old wheelbarrow-
Scrutinizing Crow,
commentated long, on all he saw.
Feathered friends, who came to wallow,
splashing in the bird-bath hollow
disregarded Crow's bizarre guffaw.
'Are you starling, from the meadow'?
asked the puzzled crow.
'You fit the bill and yet I see a flaw'.
'Tail feathers, long and narrow,
sharp as swallow's twin-pronged arrow,
force me to admit, I'm quite unsure'.
'I'm the Swarling from the plateau',
bird replied, 'Hello'.
'My plumage is unique and furthermore'-
'Meet my friend, the warbling Starlow,
deft in flight as dancing shadow,
blessed with starling beak and swallow claw'.
'Preposterous'! said crow with gusto,
'strange imbroglio'.
'You must be one or other, it's the law'.
To which the enigmatic duo,
chirped a ringing manifesto.
Crow could think of nowt to say, but 'Caw'.
poem by Diane Hine
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Thou are a bitter bird, said the raven to the starling.
Thou art a bitter bird, said the raven to the starling.
See, See, Mine Own Sweet Jewel
See, see, mine own sweet jewel,
See what I have here for my darling:
A robin-redbreast and a starling.
These I give both, in hope to move thee--
And yet thou say'st I do not love thee.
poem by Thomas Morley
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With Love Only
I hear the music of the Creator
In the fire of the sunset, in the blue darkness of the night,
In a starling's song - a spring's curator
Even when the quietness is tight.
It seems that love embraces all the creatures.
No more sadness, loss and tears.
No more wars, no more killed soldiers,
And only Madonna tenderly cradle her dears.
But how to understand where the evil vanished?
How can you distinguish love from hate?
How to survive in spite of all the deaths
And know that our life is our mate?
To know love we have to know evil,
Clean our souls of envy and revenge.
There is simply no the other way out.
With only love beautiful life you can entrench.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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His For To Destroy
That he does not love Nature seems such a sad thing
The one who never admires the wildflowers of the Spring
With Land for Wildlife he could never agree
He sees Land for Development as a better idea
He could not recognize a starling from a crow
And anything of Nature's ways he does not wish to know,
He reckons greenies of progress are standing in the way
And not one good thing of them he does have to say
he has made millions out of land development but greed leads to more greed
And for to build more houses more land he does need
Last year he made two million in profit this year he wants four
'Tis the same old story much always wants more
Making millions from land development is a thing he enjoy
And he feels Mother Earth is his for to destroy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Elm Winged Keys Fall
Elm winged keys fall
Bounce off leaves
Cleave air, cover concrete
Attempt another flight
When edged on by starling wings.
poem by David E. Patton
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Know You The River NEar To Grez
KNOW you the river near to Grez,
A river deep and clear?
Among the lilies all the way,
That ancient river runs to-day
From snowy weir to weir.
Old as the Rhine of great renown,
She hurries clear and fast,
She runs amain by field and town
From south to north, from up to down,
To present on from past.
The love I hold was borne by her;
And now, though far away,
My lonely spirit hears the stir
Of water round the starling spur
Beside the bridge at Grez.
So may that love forever hold
In life an equal pace;
So may that love grow never old,
But, clear and pure and fountain-cold,
Go on from grace to grace.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Sara
Written by stevie nicks.
Wait a minute baby...
Stay with me awhile
Said youd give me light
But you never told be about the fire
Drowning in the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
And now its gone
It doesnt matter anymore
When you build your house
Call me home
And he was just like a great dark wing
Within the wings of a storm
I think I had met my match -- he was singing
And undoing the laces
Undoing the laces
Drowning in the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
And now its gone
It doesnt matter anymore
When you build your house
Call me home
Hold on
The night is coming and the starling flew for days
Id stay home at night all the time
Id go anywhere, anywhere
Ask me and Im there because I care
Sara, youre the poet in my heart
Never change, never stop
And now its gone
It doesnt matter what for
When you build your house
Ill come by
Drowning in the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
And now its gone
It doesnt matter anymore
When you build your house
Call me home
All I ever wanted
Was to know that you were dreaming
(theres a heartbeat
And it never really died)
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nuptial Night
Hush! and again the chatter of the starling
Athwart the lawn!
Lean your head close and closer. O my darling!--
It is the dawn.
Dawn in the dusk of her dream,
Dream in the hush of her bosom, unclose!
Bathed in the eye-bright beam,
Blush to her cheek, be a blossom, a rose!
Go, nuptial night! the floor of Ocean tressing
With moon and star;
With benediction go and breathe thy blessing
On coasts afar.
Hark! the theorbos thrum
O'er the arch'd wave that in white smother booms
'Mother of Mystery, come!
Fain for thee wait other brides, other grooms!'
Go, nuptial night, my breast of hers bereaving!
Yet, O, tread soft!
Grow day, blithe day, the mountain shoulder heaving
More gold aloft!
Gold, rose, bird of the dawn,
All to her balcony gather unseen--
Thrill through the curtain drawn,
Bless her, bedeck her, and bathe her, my Queen!
poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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The Flight
Look back with longing eyes and know that I will follow,
Lift me up in your love as a light wind lifts a swallow,
Let our flight be far in sun or blowing rain --
*But what if I heard my first love calling me again?*
Hold me on your heart as the brave sea holds the foam,
Take me far away to the hills that hide your home;
Peace shall thatch the roof and love shall latch the door --
*But what if I heard my first love calling me once more?*
poem by Sara Teasdale
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Last Request
Before she died her last wish was to be buried, not cremated,
she a feared waking up from a deep coma and no one would
hear her screams and rescue her from the jaws of inferno.
Her husband ignored her want, cremation was more viable,
and anyway how was she to know? The crematory attendant
was outside smoking a cigarette reflecting on the irony that
he had to go outside when bodies were burnt to ash inside.
He was startled by a piercing shriek, birds in trees took flight.
Must be a hawk killing a starling, he thought. On the branch of
an old oak a crow sat, in the afternoon light it looked golden
wore a halo; and had eyes as blue as the ocean.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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But These Things Also
But these things also are Spring's -
On banks by the roadside the grass
Long-dead that is greyer now
Than all the Winter it was;
The shell of a little snail bleached
In the grass; chip of flint, and mite
Of chalk; and the small birds' dung
In splashes of purest white:
All the white things a man mistakes
For earliest violets
Who seeks through Winter's ruins
Something to pay Winter's debts,
While the North blows, and starling flocks
By chattering on and on
Keep their spirits up in the mist,
And Spring's here, Winter's not gone.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Lullaby
SLEEP, sleep, my treasure,
The long day's pleasure
Has tired the birds, to their nests they creep;
The garden still is
Alight with lilies,
But all the daisies are fast asleep.
Sleep, sleep, my darling,
Dawn wakes the starling,
The sparrow stirs when he sees day break;
But all the meadow
Is wrapped in shadow,
And you must sleep till the daisies wake!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Sowers-Reapers
Sodden path of Destiny
Guides out spirits fruits
As seedlings planted in
The ground
We growing more astute
The privilege garnered
By Fate
During our eduacational time
Opening our Blind eyes
Once again to see
There is reason for our rhymes
Gathering we a Starling-singing
His song of ancient history's reverie
And all the wisdom contained
Inside this most informative melody
Shall stir our gentle spirits free
To travel again upon the path of Destiny
All of our labors and fruits
We shall carry inside of we
Fianlly bringing into the World Realm
Sharing it with a God-given glow
Knowing all too-well that we
Most always do reap what we do sow!
poem by Theodora Onken
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