
He "Digesteth Harde Yron"
Although the aepyornis
or roc that lived in Madagascar, and
the moa are extinct,
the camel-sparrow, linked
with them in size--the large sparrow
Xenophon saw walking by a stream--was and is
a symbol of justice.
This bird watches his chicks with
a maternal concentration-and he's
been mothering the eggs
at night six weeks--his legs
their only weapon of defense.
He is swifter than a horse; he has a foot hard
as a hoof; the leopard
is not more suspicious.How
could he, prized for plumes and eggs and young
used even as a riding-beast, respect men
hiding actor-like in ostrich skins, with the right hand
making the neck move as if alive
and from a bag the left hand strewing grain, that ostriches
might be decoyed and killed!Yes, this is he
whose plume was anciently
the plume of justice; he
whose comic duckling head on its
great neck revolves with compass-needle nervousness
when he stands guard,
in S-like foragings as he is
preening the down on his leaden-skinned back.
The egg piously shown
as Leda's very own
from which Castor and Pollux hatched,
was an ostrich-egg.And what could have been more fit
for the Chinese lawn it
grazed on as a gift to an
emperor who admired strange birds, than this
one, who builds his mud-made
nest in dust yet will wade
in lake or sea till only the head shows.
. . . . . . .
Six hundred ostrich-brains served
at one banquet, the ostrich-plume-tipped tent
and desert spear, jewel-
gorgeous ugly egg-shell
goblets, eight pairs of ostriches
in harness, dramatize a meaning
always missed by the externalist.
The power of the visible
is the invisible; as even where
no tree of freedom grows,
so-called brute courage knows.
Heroism is exhausting, yet
it contradicts a greed that did not wisely spare
the harmless solitaire
or great auk in its grandeur;
unsolicitude having swallowed up
all giant birds but an alert gargantuan
little-winged, magnificently speedy running-bird.
This one remaining rebel
is the sparrow-camel.
poem by Marianne Moore

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Related quotes
An Expression That Just Can't Be True
Like an ostrich just bury your head in the snow...
'Wait a minute that bird doesn't do that.'
Are you sure?
Are you absolutely certain?
I mean have you ever even seen an ostrich in the snow?
'Well no, but..'
But what?
Tell me then how exactly you know?
Are you a bird expert who has put an ostrich in an environment that it's not native too?
You know that's a cruel thing to do.
'No I'm just telling you that is something they do not do.
'Just listen for once in your life because I think your confused.'
Nah I'm not.
Expressions so old can become stale and rot.
So I'm seeking my own refuge.
A camp of new realities and dimensions.
All each with their own intention.
A deluge of ideas to portray a different existence of each and every day.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

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The Ostrich
The ostrich roams the great Sahara.
Its mouth is wide, its neck is narra.
It has such long and lofty legs,
I'm glad it sits to lay its eggs.
poem by Ogden Nash

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Sparrow
Who will love a little sparrow
Who's traveled far and cries for rest?
"Not I," said the Oak Tree
"I won't share my branches with no sparrow's nest
And my blanket of leaves won't warm her cold breast"
Who will love a little sparrow
And who will speak a kindly word?
"Not I," said the Swan
"The entire idea is utterly absurd
I'd be laughed at and scorned if the other swans heard."
Who will take pity in his heart
And who will feed a starving sparrow?
"Not I," said the Golden Wheat
"I would if I could but I cannot I know
I need all my grain to prosper and grow"
Who will love a little sparrow?
Will no one write her eulogy?
"I will," said the Earth
"For all I've created returns unto me
From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel

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Taking An Ostrich
This Ostrich taken, vainly tries
From chord of Courser to be free;
She struggles hard, but man defies
Her bold attempt at liberty.
Ah! Lady take the simile:
As Ostrich caught by twisted chord,
So Woman must obey her Lord.
Awhile, in youth you wander o’er
The golden path of promised joy,
Nor think captivity has store
Of care, life’s bitterest alloy: -
You play with love, as child with toy;
But ah this Ostrich; it will prove
You cannot ‘scape the Chord of Love.
poem by Richard Cobbold

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His Eye Is On The Sparrow
Why should I feel discouraged
Why should the shadows come
Why should my heart feel lonely
And long for heaven and home
When Jesus is my portion
A constant friend is He
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches over me
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me
I sing because I'm happy
I sing because I'm free
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me (He watches me)
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches
I know He watches
I know He watches me
I sing because I'm happy
I sing because I'm free
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me (He watches me)
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me (He watches me)
He watches me
I know
He watches
Me
song performed by by Lauryn Hill

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Ostrich Men
Ostrich bury their heads on sand
Denying realities adversely at hand.
Ducking down the easy escape from light
Their sand holes cover obstacles from sight.
Some men in leadership may be ostrich men
They parlay the necessity to face truth and then
Mislead their countrymen in fatal delusions
All the while preaching their vague misconceptions.
Though warned and informed, they seem comatose
Unable with logic, to scrutinize, I suppose
The warnings were given but they failed so to act
Now they censure the information and hide all the facts.
What then do we do to these ostrich men?
I suggest cut their heads off, throw them out the pen.
Copyright Cynthia Buhain Baello
March 12,2010
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello

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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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The Horse
A sparrow hopped about the street,
And he was not a bit afraid;
He flew between a horse's feet,
And ate his supper undismayed:
I think myself the horse knew well
The bird came for the grains that fell.
For his eye was looking down,
And he danced the corn about
In his nose-bag, till the brown
Grains of corn were tumbled out;
And I fancy that he said,
'Eat it up, young Speckle-Head!'
The driver then came back again,
He climbed into the heavy dray;
And he tightened up the rein,
Cracked his whip and drove away.
But when the horse's ribs were hit,
The sparrow did not care a bit.
poem by James Stephens

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His Eye Is On The Sparrow
(mrs. s. martin)
Why should I feel discouraged
Why should the shadows come
Why should my heart feel lonely
And long for heaven and home?
When jesus is my portion
My constant friend
Is he
His eye is on the sparrow
I know he watches me
His eye is on the sparrow
I know he watches me
I sing because Im happy
I sing because Im free
His eye is on the sparrow
I know he watches me
His eye, his eye is on the sparrow
I know he watches
I know he watches
I know he watches me
I sing because Im happy
I sing because Im free
His eye is on the sparrow
I know, I know, I know he watches over
He watches over me
song performed by by Diana Ross

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What The Mother Sparrow Later Found Out...
under the jack fruit tree
the young sparrow's wings
are torn apart
caused by a well rounded pebble
fired from the slingshot
of the laughing
child
among his peers
he is called The Hunter...
because the young sparrow
which just alighted
from its nest
could not really fly
that high enough
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Little Sparrow
Little sparrow
Dolly parton = little sparrow
(chorus)
Little sparrow, little sparrow,
Precious fragile little thing
Little sparrow, little sparrow
Flies so high and feels no pain.
All ye maidens heed my warning
Never trust the hearts of men
They will crush you like a sparrow
Leaving you to never mend.
They will vow to always love you
Swear no love but yours will do
Then theyll leave you for another
Break your little heart in two
Repeat chorus
If I were a little sparrow, over these mountains I would fly
I would find him, I would find him, look into his lying eyes
I would flutter all around him, on my little sparrow wings
I would ask him, I would ask him, why he left me loving him
Repeat chorus
I am not a little sparrow, I am just the broken dream
Of a cold false-hearted lover and his evil cunning scheme
Repeat chorus
All ye maidens fair and tender
Never trust the hearts of men
They will crush you, like a sparrow
Leaving you to never mend.
Little sparrow, little sparrow,
Oh my sorrow never ends.
song performed by by Dolly Parton

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Birds Nest
Have you not seen the bird
flying far, again and again
collecting straws to weave a nest-
a home- for its young ones to be.
As eggs are hatched
out come the young
chirping or crying, to be fed,
the bird flies again, and again
collecting grains
to feed the young
who cannot fly
It chews the grain but does not swallow
beak to beak it feeds young fellow
caressingly and lovingly
so all are fed properly.
Young get wings, by and by:
and coaxed by the mother bird;
attempt to fly.
Then suddenly one day
the young one flies far away
It knows not where: and
The nest gets barren,
Lonely...
The bird DOES NOT GRIEVE
OR DOES IT
We humans, we do not know.
White sparrow
white sparrow you see me standing
you could kill me without landing
your wing is just as long as a man
you are as cold as a snowy day
you have come here from heaven
you must of as you fight my devil's
your feathers turn slowly black with my sin
and yet you stay beautiful as always
my sin is like a ciggerate it will turn you black inside
but you cannot die as you are one in your own
you came from heaven so your holy arent you
god sent you for me so you must do what you must do
my heart was never red nor white but black
i was born with my sin and also that of my kin
but white sparrow you have taken that from me
and now you are dying you turned black whilst i change to white
oh my lord what a sight it must be to see
a boy like me clean of all carrying a bird of sin
i am carrying you white sparrow your heart is no longer cold
and your body no longer white nor wings large
but white sparrow you will not die, no you will not
for you white sparrow you came from heaven for me
when i picked my child's name people laughed you did not
you looked at my child in his cot and nodded now you cant
for white sparrow you dont belong with me not anymore
your must leave for heaven and recover to help others
so farewell white sparrow il missy you my saviour
now go to that sin filled woman and help her
for white sparrow i will look for you as you continue
for white sparrow i will see you in heaven....goodbye
poem by Daniel Laurence

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Kitchen Pride....Adult Humour
Tickle my fancy as free as a bird
Stripped of her feathers, or so I've heard
Lace she in daisy chains and ring
'Er neck
With splintering smiles upon
Break.... fast eggs
(All yolks aside)
A messy contortionist has no pride
Twiddle your thumbs and smile at the mess
Feathers and flour upon my...
(oooeeer must i confess!)
Free range
Organically led
Steer well clear from the hospital bed
Skid pon the lino doused in Ribena
Then smile at her spirit
(my have you seen her!)
Free as an ostrich gallumphing in pride
Behind the fridge freezer
Her warming (bestest side)
poem by Karen Sinclair

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Quail's Nest
I wandered out one rainy day
And heard a bird with merry joys
Cry 'wet my foot' for half the way;
I stood and wondered at the noise,
When from my foot a bird did flee--
The rain flew bouncing from her breast
I wondered what the bird could be,
And almost trampled on her nest.
The nest was full of eggs and round--
I met a shepherd in the vales,
And stood to tell him what I found.
He knew and said it was a quail's,
For he himself the nest had found,
Among the wheat and on the green,
When going on his daily round,
With eggs as many as fifteen.
Among the stranger birds they feed,
Their summer flight is short and low;
There's very few know where they breed,
And scarcely any where they go.
poem by John Clare

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I Wish I Had Been Born A Bird...[Personal; Birds; Humor]
My parents were both humans, so I am human too,
but I'd wish to be a bird, if I could be born anew.
Though I 'love' birds, you may think my wish absurd.
But more absurd wishes I'm sure you have heard.
Of course I'm not a bird and never will be.
But if I could talk to birds I could better see
if the life of a bird would really satisfy me.
Eating seeds and bugs and such, and sitting in a tree.
My bird of choice? How would I pick a winner?
Not a penguin, who has to dress for dinner.
Not an ostrich, another flightless bird.
And a strutting peacock might just be absurd.
Perhaps an eagle, soaring high above you,
or a hummingbird, acrobat of the blue.
Or perhaps a mighty swan swimming gracefully,
or a nightingale whistling a concert, free.
For certain I would not choose a caged-life,
though, uncaged, dangers for me might be rife.
I think I'd prefer fresh-kill to old road kill,
and a nest in tree rather than on window sill.
If a bird, I'd not have had to deal with military draft.
Or had others think sometimes that I am daft.
All sorts of human signs and laws I could spurn.
And there'd be no reason to file a tax return.
I'd have no need to wear or ever change diapers,
no need to get gas or change windshield wipers,
no need for lawyers or too many teachers,
no need to listen to rehashing preachers,
no need to plan for death or watch my cholesterol.
As a bird I'd just have to listen to Mother Nature's call.
(September 2009)
poem by Bri Edwards

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Bible Stories: Job (Chapter XXXIX)
Do you know how the young are born
Of mountain-goats ‘midst desert-thorn?
The months it takes to deliver,
And grow, when they leave forever?
Who gives the wild asses freedom
And frees them from the town’s boredom?
The wilderness is dwelling place;
No one shouts at their lazy pace.
They head for mountain-pastures green,
Where human beings have not been;
Will wild oxen remain docile
And pass the nights in town’s exile?
Can ropes bind them in the furrow?
Will they in valleys, too harrow?
Can you trust strength of theirs that’s great?
Leave your labor’s fruits at their feet?
Will they thresh grain all by themselves?
Or stack the yield neatly in shelves?
The wings of Ostrich beat idly;
She leaves her eggs on ground freely!
If feet crush them, she does not care;
But in the sands, she leaves them bare;
Disowning young, so ruthlessly,
She leaves her brood so cruelly!
Withheld has God from her wisdom;
Yet, given swiftness and freedom;
Who gives the horse its strength to run,
And neck with splendor next to none?
Who can make the steed to quiver
While loud snorting spreads great terror?
With joy, he gallops on the plain,
And darts forward when foes are slain.
Despite the quivers and the spears,
He heads with frenzy when he hears
The trumpet-noise and battle-cry,
As many clash, to fight and die.
Who tells the hawk to soar up high
And spread its wings, to south to fly?
Do eagles build their nests aloft,
When you command them in words soft?
He spends the nights on cliffs, ledges;
It eyes its prey in far hedges;
Its young ones drink blood without fear,
Where slain remain, eagles are near!
poem by John Celes

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The Swan Song
Now I'm getting all fluffy for Bedtime Stories, this is how I see the Ugly Duckling in a Poem form, and I hope I do justice to the timeless classic by Hans Christian Anderson.
Do you remember?
The story of the
Ugly little bird
It was picked on
And trodden on because
Its plumage was plain
It grew up alone
Thinking it was
To clumsy to play
It watched with a tear
Alone and afraid
As winters and summers
Passed its lone life
It grew up with fear
And lived all alone
Accepting its life
It grew up that way
In the reeds of the marsh
But then one day
Hiding behind
The reeds of the marsh
It watched a swan land
In migration to pass
Graceful and pure
It bowed its handsome head
With grandeur and pride
He cocked his head held high
He swam to thro
To attract a new wife
And then just beyond
Behind the tall marsh reeds
He spotted the beauty
Alone and afraid
And it stopped in its wake
To bow its head
Just once more
At the confused ugly duckling
Behind the reeds of the mash
Taken by surprise
It cried in confusion of fear
Why do you mock me?
With your head so low
That only happens
When taking a wife
Said swan to the duckling
Its head still bowed low
Your beauty is wonder
Come now be my wife
Shaking its head
In cried in its rage
I am not a beauty
I cannot be your wife
Slowly it lifted
Its fine handsome head
Then said to the duckling
Look yonder my beauty
At your reflection ahead
Then looking at ripples
Where its teardrops fell
The ugly little duckling
Saw a swan instead
The handsome young swan
Once more bowed its head
I beseech thee my beauty
Be my wife, be my friend
Now a young swan
And duckling no more
It ruffled its feather
Its plumage snow white
Then bowing with tears
Her beauty so bright
Together they flew
As husband and wife
poem by Kaila George

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Ch 07 On The Effects Of Education Story 12
One year discord had arisen in a caravan among the walking portion and I also travelled on foot. To obtain justice we attacked each other’s heads and faces, giving full vent to pugnacity and contention. I saw a man sitting in a camel litter and saying to his companion: ‘How wonderful! A pawn of ivory travels across the chess-board and becomes a farzin, and the footmen of the Haj travelled across the whole desert only to become worse.’
Tell on my part to the man-biting Haji
Who tears the skins of people with torments:
Thou art not a Haji but a camel is one
Because, poor brute, it feeds on thorns and bears loads.
Fragile
you are so fragile
as a blue bird's egg inside my hands
my sigh is a pressure
the slightest of which the shell cracks
it doesn't matter
nature chooses those which are fit to survive
perhaps
an ostrich 's egg will do
to show me what life is
the hardness of this.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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