One atop another
White hen caged in a rickshaw;
Red beaks, why no squeak…
haiku by Mamta Agarwal
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Related quotes
Return Journey to the inception of my memory by an auto rickshaw
Auto rickshaw, a carriage
Like a tortoise
Returns
Along my obsolete graveled
Road.
Auto rickshaw rolls on;
My bucolic had
Rocked
Mirth of a birth,
Rapturously.
Auto rickshaw passes by
Nuptial Hall, where
Bride,
With dowry gold, was
Bartered.
Auto rickshaw pauses before
Rural maze, where
My
Career knocks were
Mocked.
Auto rickshaw, the three
Wheeled, creeps through
Nostalgia
Scenting text books once
New.
Auto rickshaw halts now
On the lap,
For
Road is lost in
Fog.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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A Beautiful Bird That Cannot Escape From The Cage
there is a beautiful bird caged in my house
its flumes are red
its beak of course is black
its claws neat and clean
and cannot scratch
its eyes blank
its feathers dull
(perhaps she is bored to death
but she is still that beautiful bird caged in the heart
of my house)
when she sings
usually in the night before everyone sleeps
everyone hears
what sadness lies in the heart of its
throat
i know that it wants to escape from the cage in the heart of the house
but someone more cruel
wants it caged
forever
there is a beautiful red bird caged in my heart
i want it set free
she understands it well
she wants to be free
i know it too well
but things will just be what it is
there is nothing we can do
she is the beautiful red feathered bird caged
and shall never be free
like the stairs, like the walls, like the beams like the stars
shall this red bird be.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Caged Bird Cries...
i do not know why a caged bird sings?
or shall it sing when caged?
or shall it cry instead?
i know cages, and i have met some birds,
i have seen birds on cages
and i have heard them sing on trees
i have listened them when caged
it is not a song, but a cry,
it is not a dance, but a struggle,
it is not a poem, but the saddest prose.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Best Part Of The Afternoon
the best part
in the afternoon is
what i have just seen
two white doves
rubbing their beaks
on top of the other
i must have disturbed
them
i am lonely
and they fly away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Wings And Claws And Beaks Of Poetry
lame, i walk on the crutches
of poetry,
wingless, i put on the feathers
of words,
i get these beaks
of metaphors
to feed upon
the richness of meaning
i am a hundred birds
on a hundred wings
i have claws and beaks
and eagles' eyes
on the flights
of the madness of poetry
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On A Ruined house In A Romantic Country
And this reft house is that the which he built,
Lamented Jack ! And here his malt he pil'd,
Cautious in vain ! These rats that squeak so wild,
Squeak, not unconscious of their father's guilt.
Did ye not see her gleaming thro' the glade ?
Belike, 'twas she, the maiden all forlorn.
What though she milk no cow with crumpled horn,
Yet aye she haunts the dale where erst she stray'd ;
And aye beside her stalks her amorous knight !
Still on his thighs their wonted brogues are worn,
And thro' those brogues, still tatter'd and betorn,
His hindward charms gleam an unearthly white ;
As when thro' broken clouds at night's high noon
Peeps in fair fragments forth the full-orb'd harvest-moon !
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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The Birds In The Air
DID they not tell you
about their lightness?
oh, must you forget
that their beaks and feathers
are designed
for wordless existence?
i may figure it out
on their songs
their freedom
Did you not read
that the sing because they have their own songs?
It must follow that they have to fly
because they have their wings
otherwise
what is lightness for
what use are feathers
their beaks and claws
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sympathy
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals--
I know what the caged bird feels!
I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting--
I know why he beats his wing!
I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,--
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings--
I know why the caged bird sings!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Night Sound
Out there
in the tranquillity of my night forest
there is a squeak
of a small animal
or bird
or frog.
I hear it above the intermittent swish
of tyres on the distant highway
and the gentle zing
of crickets below my window
and the deep contented breathing
of the dogs at my feet.
And I need to share the squeak
of the small animal
or bird
or frog
with you.
(14 September 1986)
poem by Diana van den Berg
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I Wonder Atop the Dunes
Will your Summer breeze,
Captivate my thoughts on Fall.
When the air is thick,
And hot with sticky humidity?
Will my Autumn wishes,
Be of those you select and pick?
I like to sit atop the dunes,
At Cape Cod and Padre Island.
I am closer to my thoughts.
When the seagulls and waves,
Exchange as nature wishes.
With sounds that attract,
My need to be distracted.
Then I make eye contact with it.
Pulling me in like a magnet!
And I see you...
This attractive distraction.
Relaxing to instigate,
My delusions of being laid...
On Labor Day.
And throughout the festivities of the holidays.
Will your Summer breeze,
Captivate my thoughts on Fall.
When the air is thick,
And hot with sticky humidity.
Will my Autumn wishes,
Be of those you select and pick?
And we discover a great happiness.
Will we be sharing Thanksgiving?
Or comfortable enough to be sitting...
Under the Christmas Tree butt naked.
And exchanging gifts with kisses?
To sweat if we let it get done.
Near the grate of the fireplace.
To quietly lay to hear 'carols' we hum.
I like to sit atop the dunes,
At Cape Cod and Padre Island.
I am closer to my thoughts.
When the seagulls and waves,
Exchange as nature wishes.
With sounds that attract,
My need to be distracted.
And I am...
When I think of how we met.
And I am...
Full of regret,
I did not extend to you an invitation.
Will your Summer breeze,
Captivate my thoughts on Fall...
Again?
Will your Summer breeze,
Captivate my thoughts on Fall...
Again?
But,
When again?
I wonder atop the dunes.
When will this move I make?
I wonder atop the dunes.
Will I be perceived as a faker?
I wonder atop the dunes.
Will I share this escape?
I wonder atop the dunes.
Could mistakes be made to make up?
I wonder atop the dunes.
When will this move I make?
I wonder atop the dunes.
Will I be perceived as a faker?
I wonder atop the dunes.
Will I share this escape?
I wonder atop the dunes.
Could mistakes be made to make up?
I wonder atop the dunes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whenever I see birds caged in a home!
Whenever I see birds caged in a home-
With small colourful birds behind the bars
Screaming pathetically and crying for freedom
Fluttering their wings in a feverish pitch
Not caring for the seeds or the cup of water inside
And wounding their wings and beaks
As they dash against the unyielding bars
With full of fright, anger and despair in eyes
Wasting what little energy they have in futile attempts
Cursing their fate amidst the heartless owners
Who boast to all visitors of their love of birds
Proudly stating as their presentation to their children-.
I fume and call upon God to curse their dear children
For a life behind sturdy prison bars at once
To let them learn the hardest way a caged life!
I declare now that anyone who enjoys caged birds
Assures a prison sentence for his descendants
And acquire a disease that would torment him at every step
And he would never have a peaceful life or death!
Oh..how cruel it is to see in markets tens of rare breeds
Stacked in small cages in blistering heat and with improper feed! Alas! what this blue cross does?
Have they closed their eyes and ears to this cruelty?
Just for the assumed pleasure of your kids
Do not break the wings and throats of tiny songsters!
O foolish folks! don't you hear their curses on your family!
O idiots! you are not filling your chambers with their warbling
But with their cries of anguish from the pits of abdomens!
If God fails to curse you take my curse, O folks who love caged souls! ; You shall suffer from incurable diseases
And ever walk in the shadow of death!
And you pass this curse on to your descendants too!
Take seriously this clarion call on behalf of winged folks
And release them to the free winds and blue skies!
Gain your joy in their songs from their hideouts of green trees!
-
S.CHANDRA KALAADHAR
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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I do not like poems that resemble hay compressed into a geometrically perfect cube. I like it when the hay, unkempt, uncombed, with dry berries mixed in it, thrown together gaily and freely, bounces along atop some truck-and more, if there are some lovely and healthy lasses atop the hay-and better yet if the branches catch at the hay, and some of it tumbles to the road.
quote by Yevgeny Aleksandrovich Yevtushenko
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The rickshaw-puller on a rainy day
A rickshaw-puller
Is looking for passenger
On this rainy day
poem by Asif Andalib
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Bye-Bye Modern World
We squeak, like pips. The pincers pinch us.
On one side, our puffy-fingered betters
Haul away what's ours, our wages and our
Pensions and our dignity. They'll capture
All, and, when they're done, we'll see
The hands of time have had a backward
Spin, and we, once yeomen, will be
Serfs, and, on our other side, the
Hollow-eyed and empty-headed ones
Who'd have us turn our backs to
Science and to any other thoughts
Which aren't provided by their God.
Toil! Worship! Starve and die! And,
If you find an idle moment, shed a tear
And squeak in sorrow for the things
We had before the pincers came,
And they were pinched.
poem by Lawrence Beck
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The Cage
you broke the bread
we drank the wine
your lip was bleedin' but it was fine
come on inside babe
across the line
i love you more than i
but then this bird just flew away
she was never meant to stay
oh to keep her caged would just delay the spring
you broke your word
now that's a lie
we had a deal that you would try
come on inside girl
i think it's time
high time we drew the line
but then this bird just flew away
while i looked the other way
oh to keep her caged would just delay the spring
you broke my soul dear
you stole the plot
you left an empty shot
there's nothing left here
cos you took the lot
an empty cage is all i've got
cos when your bird has flown away
she was never meant to stay
oh to keep her caged would just delay the spring
to keep her caged would just delay the spring
song performed by by Travis from The Invisible Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rickshaw-puller
On a sunny holiday
The rickshaw-puller
Goes on working all day long!
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The rickshaw puller
A rickshaw puller
Takes a break at a tea stall
On this sunny day
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Caged Bird
Right now I feel like a bird
Caged without a key
Everyone comes to stare at me
With so much joy and rivalry
They din't know how I feel inside
Through my smile I cry
They don't know what they're doin' to me
Keeping me from flyin'
That's why I say that
I know why the caged bird sings
Only joy comes from song
She's so rare and beautiful to others
Why not just set her free
So she can
Fly
song performed by by Alicia Keys from Songs In A Minor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Free My Caged Soul
please, free my caged soul
lost in waves of pain and tears
let it fly away
haiku by Marius Alexandru (May 2020)
Submitted by anonym
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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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