Mocking Bird
Dark as dungeon, rough as the sea
don't provoke my tolerance, you hardly know me...
Broken are my feathers... a bird that cannot fly
just your words are enough to make me cry.
Nestled in your own world, the feathers keep you warm
my life is a struggle.... I'm still fighting the storm
your given hand of friendship and floating views i see
Are enough to kill a mocking bird and set her free
poem by Meena Mustafa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Never let the 'Hope' die...!
Hopes are feathers, a wish is a bird
One may find this simile a little absurd
Hold on, do not lose patience
As I will explain to you the essence
Behind this there is a theory
I shall relate this with a story
Feathers, they keep the bird warm
Likewise hopes keep our wishes strong
Clip the feathers and the bird will not fly
Were it not for hope our wishes would die
My fellow beings, listen to what i have to say
Keep on hoping, what you wish for will come your way
Let your wishes, as birds, freely fly
As long as your hope, you never let die.
poem by Ravi Singh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feathers!
feathers on me
again and again
first to fly and now to earth rest
enable me to get ready
and carried me through you
anywhere there are feathers
like you said!
in me in you!
a very strange and intoxicating feeling
afterwards, that you traced my body
maybe i have gasp, of some lack of air!
in high feather, full feathers
you will be writhing with ecstacy
Very pleasurable for me
I feel extremely good
you make me a path a invisible way
eagle feathers very powerful
sound bird feathers very delicate
for tight places or open places
make his sound so soft
Ah! My God! ! !
give me the name of that medicine!
Feathers on me!
Feathers on you!
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Living sparks in the dark
The world will fast collide
With its own beginning,
Then silence shall reign
Supreme again, I surmise.
There'll be no more singing.
Joyous choirs shall be silent
Even Kingdom Halls shall be shrill
With no end or beginning
There'll be only time to kill.
Endless as a mocking bird
Mocking at his will…
With his black-wing-span
Across all that we have done
Right across the Rio Grande
There'll be a death knell…
Over all we have come to understand.
On all except that mocking bird,
And his living sparks in the dark
In hand!
poem by Mark Heathcote
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When I was a Bird
I climbed up the karaka tree
Into a nest all made of leaves
But soft as feathers.
I made up a song that went on singing all by itself
And hadn't any words, but got sad at the end.
There were daisies in the grass under the tree.
I said just to try them:
"I'll bite off your heads and give them to my little
children to eat."
But they didn't believe I was a bird;
They stayed quite open.
The sky was like a blue nest with white feathers
And the sun was the mother bird keeping it warm.
That's what my song said: though it hadn't any words.
Little Brother came up the patch, wheeling his barrow.
I made my dress into wings and kept very quiet.
Then when he was quite near I said: "Sweet, sweet!"
For a moment he looked quite startled;
Then he said: "Pooh, you're not a bird; I can see
your legs."
But the daisies didn't really matter,
And Little Brother didn't really matter;
I felt just like a bird.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Divine Bird
i would skp the best musical concert
to listen one more time to this morning bird
it makes me regret for not having been
a bird watcher and getting to know the name
of every bird and how every bird makes sure
they shine their best in voice rather than feathers
for feathers are just for a show of form but the
voice how well they have cultivated themselves
with the bountiful freedoms strewn below their wings
it was only two mornings ago, i first heard him
sing in among the many trees lining the boulevard
outside my condominium, the Crescent Court
the enchanting haunting notes of his song shocked
me into wondering whether it was really a bird that
sang those pristine notes, notes that seemed to have
streamed out of the sacred sanctum of God, so many
diverse notes, so well handled, they sounded
like a song written by the Divine for one special bird
one most holy entree to the dawn of a new day
i prayed to the Divine to allow me hear that bird
again, a bird that has sung his way into my my poem,
a bird probably from another realm where birds could
understand the workings of the heavens better than men
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shes Gone
My woman is gone (woman is gone), my woman is gone (woman is gone).
She had left me a note hanging on my door:
She say she couldnt take it, she couldnt take any more.
The pressure around me - just couldnt see;
She felt like a prisoner who needs to be free.
Fools have tried, yeah - wisemen have failed:
Oh, listen to me, honey: life could never be another jail.
Still we know now: well never see smoke without fire
And everyone you see has a heart desire.
Shes gone (shes gone), shes gone (shes gone),
Shes gone (shes gone), shes gone, ye-ah!
Oh, mocking bird, have you ever heard,
Words that I never heard?
Oh, mocking bird, have you ever heard,
Words that I never heard?
She made it through the exit (she just couldnt take it);
She made it through the exit (she just couldnt make it).
And, oh, my children, if you see me cryin:
My woman is gone.
If you see me - if you see me - if you see me -
If you see me cryin -
If you see me - if you see me - if you see me -
If you see me cryin:
Shes gone (shes gone), shes gone (shes gone), shes gone, ye-ah!
Oh, mocking bird, have you ever heard,
Words that I never heard?
Oh, mocking bird, have you ever heard,
Words that I never heard?
Shes gone (shes gone), shes gone (shes gone), shes gone
(shes gone)
song performed by by Bob Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bird-Magic
Where no birds breathe, bird-magic breathes
Bird-beauty, bird-spirit, bird-splendour,
And brings where no bird wings,
Wing-beats that woo me to wonder.
What do I want when a woman can warm
Bird-magic from her bosom, her womanly arms?
Her lips that are petals, her thighs that are trees,
Boughful with blossoms of softness and ease?
What is the liquid that lingers with love
In her voice? Is the music that hangs in her eyes?
The dewdrop.that dangles from finger-tip touch?
The mellifluous magic that moves me so much?
This is no bird-magic:
This is woman, who with a sweep of her hair
Sends birds bursting to wings in the air.
This is woman, whose frown
Droops dark feathers down.
This is woman; her smile, her kiss, her holding in arms,
Hold more bliss for me than bird-charms.
poem by Tan Pratonix
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Mere Being
The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.
The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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"Hope" is the thing with feathers
"Hope" is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I've heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Hope is the thing with feathers
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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“Hope” is the thing with feathers
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Mocking Bird On The Tree Fronting The House...
a mocking bird
sits on a branch of a tree
that fronts the house that
papa made
papa is gone.
a mocking bird left but one
sunny day
after the heavy rains for months
the mocking bird comes back
it is bringing silence
unlike all the other mocking birds
in town
the mocking bird is dead
a boy abandoned by his mother
stoned it
now the window if you walk a little
distant from the house
and sit on a bench across the road
looks like a Cheshire cat
giving Alice that fable smile.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flying Away?
i like to see the image of a lone bird flying away from me
two steady wings carrying a very light body of blue feathers
a kingfisher flying away against the morning sun
moving nowhere getting farther until it becomes a blue dot
dissolving in the distance that your eyes can no longer see
i sometimes like to think i am that bird flying away
from where i am
because this place is sad and cruel
i like to fly away
to leave everything behind me and then simply forget
and make new beginnings
as easy as that
sometimes however i ask myself:
where shall i go?
nowhere?
just nowhere?
where is nowhere?
just fly away and go
and leave and
then what?
i ask myself these real questions
calling for rational answers
begging
that i be reasonable enough with my life
and the life of others
who also depend
on me
it is not an easy stuff,
just flying away to nowhere and destruct
everything i build here:
a nest, an odor of familiarity,
a sense of home
(though sad and cruel)
a name for myself
a reputation
a family history
an ancestral domain
shall i go then and be foolish?
i am not a bird, i am a man
that is a very serious existence apart from those feathery wishes and dreams
with responsibilities, i have no wings just arms, i have no feathers
but this body
i am not just a bird, i have a soul
and so i decided to stay
with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Finding feathers
I went through a stage of finding feathers
but I just thought they came from some Bird
then someone told me they come from Angels
at which I replied don't be so absurd.
I found them when I was just out walking
in the country or down the local street
they would appear from out of the Blue
and land in front of me or by my feet.
But bird's feathers are common in the outdoors
so I ignored them and didn't pick them up
but I then started to get them in strange places
like in my pocket, and once even in my favourite cup.
They seemed to appear most when I was feeling down
as if it was a sign that good times were ahead
so I would stop worrying and being miserable
and there would be a feather on my pillow on the bed.
So if you find a feather don't throw it away
or think it's from a Pigeon, or a Turtle Dove,
because you may have just received a visit
not from a Bird but someone from up above.
poem by Kevin Halls
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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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Mocking Bird
Mocking bird,
I am now in Washington DC!
But the bomb dropped and i was able to escape.
Mocking bird,
My silver plate is with you;
So do take care of it.
Mocking bird,
Flowing with the feelings of love and the vibes of your muse;
But do watxch out before you are knocked down!
And try to fly away to a safer place.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Matter Of Decision
the black bird of loneliness
hovers over the window of the house
and stops to look at
our roof
we shoo it away
there is no place here
where it can build its own nest
we still wait for the bird of bounty
the one that brings us
the eggs of grace
the feathers of happiness
it is the only bird that we welcome here
as a matter of our own decision
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Degrees Of Unfreedom...
1. caught
a bird inside your hand
2.released
inside a cage and hangs
on a beam
at the side of the road
3.well feed with
grains
4. starts to sing
inside the cage
5. feathers fall
and unlearned
flights
6. so many thoughts
about bird-lands
7.death
8. no one sees
the spirit getting
out of the body
of the bird
9. into another plane
another cage
10. back to one
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Zen Archer
Pretty bird with feathers falling
Pretty as a lady calling
For her pink and midnight lover
As she stares into the water
And a yellow moon is rising
And there can't be no disguising
That the pretty bird is dying
With a silver arrow lying at its side
Rivers of blood,
Oceans of tears,
Life without death,
And death without reason
To the whole united nations,
To your greatest expectations
To the moment that you realize
As a dark figure slips from out of the shadow
Pretty bird closes its eyes, pretty bird dies
Another pretty thing dead on the end of the shaft
Of the zen archer
A man in parts forgotten
With an outlook that is rotten
And an attitude to match it
Finds relief inside a hatchet
And he halved someone in boulder
Justifiability is in the hands of the beholder
And you just don't know what people will do next
Mountains of pain,
Valleys of love,
Death without life,
And life without meaning
To the promise kept and broken
To the love that's never spoken
Just as surely as i'm in your ears
A dark figure slips from out of the shadow
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Zen Archer
Pretty bird with feathers falling
Pretty as a lady calling
For her pink and midnight lover
As she stares into the water
And a yellow moon is rising
And there can't be no disguising
That the pretty bird is dying
With a silver arrow lying at its side
Rivers of blood,
Oceans of tears,
Life without death,
And death without reason
To the whole united nations,
To your greatest expectations
To the moment that you realize
As a dark figure slips from out of the shadow
Pretty bird closes its eyes, pretty bird dies
Another pretty thing dead on the end of the shaft
Of the zen archer
A man in parts forgotten
With an outlook that is rotten
And an attitude to match it
Finds relief inside a hatchet
And he halved someone in boulder
Justifiability is in the hands of the beholder
And you just don't know what people will do next
Mountains of pain,
Valleys of love,
Death without life,
And life without meaning
To the promise kept and broken
To the love that's never spoken
Just as surely as i'm in your ears
A dark figure slips from out of the shadow
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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