Pollution and Climate Change
First, of nature's course, it was the birds;
for theirs the air, above and over all;
knowing by intuition without need of words
as providential, seasoned, sure
as sparrow's fall;
and knowing too
how much to trust to men
who do not even trust each other.
It was, of nature's course, the snowy eagle
entrusted with the task:
the only bird who may look straight into the sun; and thus
to whom that message might be given, to ask,
to pass on to his lord; the only bird
whose plumage may reflect the sun's majestic rays,
and live; perhaps to bring a message back.
As to the message - was it just a sprig
of leaves from tallest tree - polluted, withered, black as crow?
or was it something inner in the words
as spoken on the flight from wintry sun to warmth, or
warmth to Northern spring?
They watched, the conference of the silent birds,
while snowy eagle, like the teepee's early morning smoke,
ascended higher, higher, into the sun's great eye,
which never man - eagle alone - may see;
and... do birds hope?
Or as the twilight falls upon the earth, accept
that what shall be, shall be?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Even leaves beg me'' says Eagle
eagle, niggard and black
perched on sycomore on Nile bank
tasty fish gambolled in water
at lightening speed eagle caught
tasty fish and scrambled out
eagle flew and perched on a tree
man was under a tree
and glanced at what sat on tree
eagle and man eyes met at ninety angle
eagle flew away saying
''man may conjure him
by evil eyes''
eagle flew and perched on second tree
some birds were on that tree
Eagle and others birds eyes met at ninety angle
eagle flew away saying he
'' choke as birds watch him eating''
Eagle flew and perched on third tree
the breeze shook leaves of tree
eagle saw leaves unfolded shaking
like a begging hand
eagle flew away saying
'' everything beg me , even leaves
beg me too''
Eagle flew and perched on fourth withered tree
no birds, men and leaves around there
only exrtreme silence around there
eagle ate tasty fish
sang in loudest resounding voice
''eel fish and tasty fish are not the same
I ate tasyty fish until heart palpitated in happiness''
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Nature's love
When water flows, when wind blows, when it snows
gives us the message that nature loves us.
When sun shines....
so divine
When a leaf falls from a tree, when a bird is set free....
gives us the message thst nature loves us.
When a butterfly emerges from the cocoon
when sun's rays fall on the moon....
when it rains, when water drops fall on the window pane
hen the birds fly up in the sky....
when snowflakes melt
nature's love isfelt.
When a volcano errupts
noone should interrupt
the phenomena
nature's whole schema.
Let the nature rest, it is time for us
to take a test.
The smiling earth inour hands,
or the crying land.
The nature never gives excuses and
always amuses.
The love for nature shold be felt
the way snow melts
the way snow melts........
poem by Prerna Sharma
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The Two Birds
The eagle and the hawk
all dwell in the sky
and all fly from heights
but the eagle rules and the hawk follows.
Yet they are two birds
The owl and the dove
all fly in the sky
and all dwell in nests
but the dove carries blessings
and the owl carries curses.
yet they are two birds still.
The two birds!
pride and humility
all dwell in our hearts
and sleep in the warmth of our egos
but humility shines while pride fades
There two birds still
The two birds!
sin and salvation
all appear in the world's contest
show casing life and death
but salvation heals, sin kills
yet these are two birds
poem by Timothy muggaga
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Why the Jackass Laughs
The Boastful Crow and the Laughing Jack
Were telling tales of the outer back:
"I've just been travelling far and wide,
At the back of Bourke and the Queensland side;
There isn't a bird in the bush can go
As far as me," said the old black crow.
"There isn't a bird in the bush can fly
A course as straight or a course as high.
Higher than human eyesight goes.
There's sometimes clouds -- but there's always crows,
Drifting along for a scent of blood
Or a smell of smoke or a sign of flood.
For never a bird or a beast has been
With a sight as strong or a scent as keen.
At fires and floods I'm the first about,
For then the lizards and mice run out:
And I make my swoop -- and that's all they know --
I'm a whale on mice," said the Boastful Crow.
The Bee-birds over the homestead flew
And told each other the long day through
"The cold has come, we must take the track."
"Now, I'll make you a bet," said the Laughing Jack,
"Of a hundred mice, that you dare not go
With the little Bee-birds, by Boastful Crow."
Said the Boastful Crow, "I could take my ease
And fly with little green birds like these.
If they went flat out and they did their best
I could have a smoke and could take a rest."
And he asked of the Bee-birds circling round:
"Now, where do you spike-tails think you're bound?"
"We leave tonight, and out present plan
is to go straight on till we reach Japan.
"Every year, on the self-same day,
We call our children and start away,
Twittering, travelling day and night,
Over the ocean we take our flight;
And we rest a day on some lonely isles
Or we beg a ride for a hundred miles
On a steamer's deck,* and away we go:
We hope you'll come with us, Mister Crow."
But the old black crow was extremely sad.
Said he: "I reckon you're raving mad
To talk of travelling night and day,
And how in the world do you find your way?"
And the Bee-birds answered him, "If you please,
That's one of our own great mysteries".
Now these things chanced in the long ago
And explain the fact, which no doubt you know,
That every jackass high and low
Will always laugh when he sees a crow.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Eagle Watch
The morning came, the eagle stirred, one leap to fly again.
The tourists smiled to watch this bird, the envy of all men.
For who has not at one time slept and sometime in the night,
Believed that if they also leapt, they, too, could rise in flight?
Within one dream, atop a hill, I ran and ran and ran...
And all at once I felt the thrill when my first flight began!
I left the hill, I left the Earth, to glide upon the sky...
It was as if my soul gave birth to something that could fly!
No holding back, I had to hurl myself upon the wave!
Like Superman and Supergirl, I flew as if by faith!
I knew just how the eagle felt, designed for higher things...
A better hand I had been dealt, transforming hands to wings!
Each time I see an eagle soar to heights beyond my eyes,
I realise what dreams are for, to simply mesmerise.
Today, each pilot flies above, content to do his best...
Just like the eagle that I love... God help them to be blessed...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Eagle Watch'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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On A Snowy Christmas Night
(words & music by stanley j. gelber)
Midnights prayers so softly whispered in
A cathedrals candle light
Bring the message of the holidays
On a snowy christmas night
Holly reeds and hidden mistletoe
Symbols of the seasons might
Joyful faces everywhere you go
On a snowy christmas night
Give thanks for all youve been blessed with
And hold your loved ones tight
For you know the lords been good to you
On a snowy christmas night
Mother nature wears a bridal gown
For the world is dressed in white
Theres a silent glow that fills the earth
On a snowy christmas night
For you know the lords been good to you
On a snowy christmas night
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shorter Days
As Days Get Shorter.
The sunny fall is now dry, hard winter
on the avenue trees stand denuded
while their offspring the leaves, rustles
up and down the street, filling up storm
drains and sighing as they dance with
a lackluster zephyr, not yet ready to
merge into dark soil; tawny and auburn,
I look at my hands, not there yet.
Few birds in trees they have gone to
Africa, which is not far from where
I live…for a bird, they spend nights in
the avenue’s trees, safer there than on
the country side; seen as vermin when
there are too many, too few and bird
lovers and other weird people, worry
if birds of prey will survive.
I look up to the sky it is cold and azure
but I see the shimmer, not a sharp eyed
sparrow hawk or an eagle, but of a much
bigger wing span, something is keeping
an eye on me, but I wag a finger, bravely
smile and say: “no thanks, my hands are
not like leaves yet. And as street- lights are
lit the day flawlessly glides into twilight.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Days Get Shorter
As Days Get Shorter.
The sunny fall is now dry, hard winter
on the avenue trees stand denuded
while their offspring the leaves, rustles
up and down the street, filling up storm
drains and sighing as they dance with
a lackluster zephyr, not yet ready to
merge into dark soil; tawny and auburn,
I look at my hands, not there yet.
Few birds in trees they have gone to
Africa, which is not far from where
I live…for a bird, they spend nights in
the avenue’s trees, safer there than on
the country side; seen as vermin when
there are too many, too few and bird
lovers and other weird people, worry
if birds of prey will survive.
I look up to the sky it is cold and azure
but I see the shimmer, not a sharp eyed
sparrow hawk or an eagle, but of a much
bigger wing span, something is keeping
an eye on me, but I wag a finger, bravely
smile and say: “no thanks, my hands are
not like leaves yet. And as street- lights are
lit the day flawlessly glides into twilight.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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January The Eagle
January the Eagle
Waits up top a hill
It gazes down onto the snowy ground
Without making any sound,
People watch silent and still
As the months march round with clattering sound
Outside their window sills
The eagle tests its wings
Waiting for the song to ring,
Tired of testing, tired of resting,
It screams far and loud
It’s heard all around
Echoing around
The world fast,
As it waits to be freed from the past
It listens until the words are sung
Which are nice and crisp from the slip of a tongue,
January is one again
And new times are ready to begin
The sound will hear loud and clear
As round and beautiful as a sphere,
The sound of future, a light
As magic and wondrous as love at first sight,
Don’t be impatient to hear it
As the songs of future
Can be heard quite near it,
As life is replenished
The sound is heard
With triumphant words
As harsh weather meets nice nature,
A new era has begun,
The Eagle drops
Without a stop,
To soon recover with a turn
The eagle says I shall return,
Just like the month of January
Through rain and sleet
The eagle flies
Its' wings beat
In the cotton blotched sky,
Higher and higher it must fly
To see the sun shine proud
In the bright free sky
The Eagle’s heart of love
January’s white dove,
The Eagle’s talons of strength
January’s unforgiving length,
The Eagle’s wings that soar
Are January’s winds of roar,
The Eagle’s balding white
Reveals January’s loving light,
The Eagle’s eyes are quick and sharp
As January’s musical winter harp,
A bird of prey
A month of new way
January like an Eagle,
Both represent a time when hopes renewed
And long before reviewed,
An Eagle can fly stunningly high
Like spirit of America in tragic time,
As war comes to end a new hate will begin,
Why do we still fly?
Because there’s always the sky.
To dream a dream of peace
Brotherhood united to release
Even through wars of nature or man
The Eagle and the American people
Have something lethal
Freedom and spirit is the weapon of choice
For when bad wind blows
We’ll always fight back with a voice
Beware when the nest is stirred
Out flies the bird
When the eagles fly
Evil will die
For beware not to bother
Our god our father
Our way of living
And your hell-full sinning.
No god would ask for such hate
For it’s the beginning, it’s not too late
A nation torn by others aggression
Looks to support her people with passion
A new birth a waits,
A new lesson others hate,
Freedom and spirit united we stand
No unwanted force shall invade our land,
Sheltering wings of protection to provide
For a nation full of honor and pride,
January is the beginning
And the Eagle is the spirit of the living.
poem by Will David
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Kingsford-Smith
Ask the sun; it has watched him pass-
a shadow mirrored on seas of glass;
ask the stars that he knew so well
if they beheld where a bird-man fell.
Ask the wind that has blown with him
over the edge of the oceans' rim,
far from the charted haunts of men,
to the utmost limits and back again.
Ask the clouds on the mountain height
the echoes that followed him in his flight,
the thunder that prowls the midnight sky,
if a silvered 'plane went riding by.
If the birds could talk, would they tell the fall
of a god who winged above them all?
Of an eagle man by the world's decrees,
King of the blue immensities?
poem by Winnifred Coombe Tennant
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Return To Nature
Suppose I am one who has a big ego I did have big plans once I do recall
But egos are a thing that inspire in us the need for success and are part of human nature after all
And now that my ego is a bit deflated and others I don't feel need to impress
Something perhaps that came with the realization that my life never has been a success.
Still I am one who finds solace in Nature and Nature the only God of which I know
I've always marvelled at her strength and beauty and still my admiration for her only grow
I had a church God when I was years younger but I gave my unseen church God away
And I returned again to Mother Nature and in her bosom I will rest one day.
The free born birds that sing in Nature's garden each species is distinctive by their song
And the fox that hunts for rabbits in the paddocks these creatures all to Nature's World belong
And the wedge tailed eagle soaring in the calm sky a very large and fearless bird of prey
Too is a part of Mother Nature's World and in Nature's bosom this bird's bones too will lay.
The swallows fly to warm climes in Winter and return home to greet the warmth of Spring
And chase insects o'er the valley where they first saw daylight and as they fly one hear them chirp and sing
How they can find their way to a far Country in late Fall and in the Spring find their way home again
Is something for which scientists can offer theories yet somehow seems beyond them to explain.
The World is quieter in Mother Nature's World for man made noise to Nature doesn't belong
On sunlit tree beside the rippling waters the thrush in Spring is singing all day long
And Nature she presides o'er all her Seasons and she has seen so many Seasons come and go
Her flowers of Spring and Summer and her brown leaves of Autumn and her hills of Winter wear white hats of snow.
I do not worship false Gods any longer and I returned to Nature years ago
And though Mother Nature has so much to teach us so little about her I seem to know
Yet I feel happy to walk in her garden and along the bank of her quiet water way
'Twas an act of Nature brought me to this World and I'll return to her bosom one day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Birds of Spring
Birds of spring they
bring on so many things
sounds they send
to each other,
that only they
can understand
in their sweet
cheerful harmony.
Sweet smell in
the air this
beautiful april day
listening to these creatures.
Taking in the warmth
of the sun that
is so overdue, blue
skies beauty to the eye.
Birds in flight
from one tree
to the other, getting
ready to produce life.
Cool breezes this
day so fine to hear
birds of spring echoing
music to my ear.
Birds of spring
to many to mention you all,
Robbins, Wrens and Cardinals
or a few I see, oh so beautiful.
To hear their chirping
wondering what they're saying
at this moment
will sit here for awhile.
Sounds this day
so relaxing is it
to listen to these
birds of spring.
wrote 4-3-07
The Eagle wasn't always the Eagle. The Eagle, before he became the Eagle, was Yucatangee, the Talker. Yucatangee talked and talked. It talked so much it heard only itself. Not the river, not the wind, not even the Wolf. The Raven came and said The Wolf is hungry. If you stop talking, you'll hear him. The wind too. And when you hear the wind, you'll fly. So he stopped talking. And became its nature, the Eagle. The Eagle soared, and its flight said all it needed to say.
quote by Robin Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For To See One More Spring
How marvellous to live for to see one more Spring
To feel the sun's warmth and to hear the birds sing
The sweet scents of Nature of pollen and hay
That wafts in the breeze of a beautiful day.
In search of water surface insects young ducklings are out
With their mums in the Townpark lake quietly swimming about
And the pipe of the shrike thrush is so pleasant to hear
In Nature Spring is such a nice time of year.
Were I a poet of such beauty I would write
A poem others would happily read and recite
Of Spring in her glory when flowers are in bloom
And the gardens are scenting of Nature's perfume.
Into the last month of Spring and young birds learning how to fly
And butterflies dancing in the sunny sky
I hear the familiar voice of the pee wee
And wild birds are whistling on bush and on tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Sign From Nature
When you hear the blackbird singing in the warmth of a Summer's day
It is a sign from Nature that rain is on the way
Since blackbirds are natural Spring songsters in Summer their songs tell of rain
From listening to Nature's wildborn creatures weather insights we do gain
Birds can be Nature's weather forecasters of such instances quite a few
But to that you may even say tell us something that is new
Of Nature's many wonders we do become aware
But she has many secrets that with us she'll never share
The blackbird one of Nature's leading songsters in the green Season of Spring
But before rain in Summer he too is known to sing
One of Nature's many weather forecasters of weather change birds know
At the ways of our Earth Mother our wonder only grow
When in the warmth of a Summer's day the blackbird's song you hear
It is a sign from Nature that rain is very near.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Villanelle: The Joys of Spring
The Sun wakes the earth, and the birds sing
songs of joy and beauty that strike me with suspense and awe:
Spring fills me with delight about what it will bring.
They rise up in the air, they are the king
of the skies, higher and higher they soar.
O! The joys of Spring.
But when the rain falls, it doesn't matter, for the things
in Spring that are here give me warmth; I don't care that rain will pour:
Spring fills me with delight about what it will bring.
And now I see you, like a new-born lamb; I'm gaping
at your beauty, your whole being, and so much more.
O! The joys of Spring!
Spring, as harbinger of life and hoping,
entices all with possibilities, vivacity, and so much more.
Spring fills me with delight about what it will bring.
So now I offer you my ring,
spend our life like an eternal Spring; I will always keep you in my heart's store:
Spring fills me with delight about what it will bring:
O! The joys of Spring!
poem by Dan Pyzer Knapp
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The Rook And The Sparrows
A little boy with crumbs of bread
Many a hungry sparrow fed.
It was a child of little sense,
Who this kind bounty did dispense;
For suddenly it was withdrawn,
And all the birds were left forlorn,
In a hard time of frost and snow,
Not knowing where for food to go.
He would no longer give them bread,
Because he had observed (he said)
That sometimes to the window came
A great black bird, a rook by name,
And took away a small bird's share.
So foolish Henry did not care
What became of the great rook,
That from the little sparrows took,
Now and then, as 'twere by stealth,
A part of their abundant wealth;
Nor ever more would feed his sparrows.
Thus ignorance a kind heart narrows.
I wish I had been there, I would
Have told the child, rooks live by food
In the same way that sparrows do.
I also would have told him too,
Birds act by instinct, and ne'er can
Attain the rectitude of man.
Nay that even, when distress
Does on poor human nature press,
We need not be too strict in seeing
The failings of a fellow being.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Young Poets
You speak for the lakes, the trees and the birds
You say what they'd say if they had the words.
Make PEACE and be proud, choose well every choice
Speak HOPE and speak loud, you are Nature's voice.
Speak with respect now, for jungles and streams,
Speak for all wildlife and dream giant dreams.
Speak with great courage, speak up and speak out,
Write with a whisper or write with a SHOUT!
Stand up young poets for clean air and rivers,
Free verse or lyric; your message delivers...
Truth to the future citizens of earth,
Speak of your freedom your friends and self worth.
Speak for tomorrow and though you're still young,
Speak for the Forest, your pen is her tongue.
The world waits to hear your songs still unsung
Words posses power, you can write the wrongs
Teach us and lead us with Poems and with songs.
Speak now for nature, for trees and for birds,
Defenders of Earth choose carefullly your words!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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I Won't Fly
I'm just a little bird
but I've got wings
like the wings
of an eagle.
I can fly high
higher than the clouds
but I won't fly
because I want to walk with you
under the sun
or even under the rain.
I'm just a little bird
but I've got wings
like the wings
of an eagle.
I can fly high
but, I won't fly
and will never spread my wings
as long as I have
...your love.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Eagle When She Flies
Shes been there, God knows, shes been there
She has seen and done it all
Shes a woman, she know how to
Dish it out or take it all
Her hearts as soft as feathers
Still she weathers stormy skies
And shes a sparrow when shes broken
But shes an eagle when she flies
A kaleidoscope of colors
You can toss her around and round
You can keep her in you vision
But youll never keep her down
Shes a lover, shes a mother
Shes a friend and shes a wife
And shes a sparrow when shes broken
But shes an eagle when she flies
Gentle as the sweet magnolia
Strong as steel, her faith and pride
Shes an everlasting shoulder
Shes the leaning post of life
She hurts deep and when she weeps
Shes just as fragile as a child
And shes a sparrow when shes broken
But shes an eagle when she flies
Tag:
Shes a sparrow when shes broken
But shes an eagle when she flies
Oh, bless her, lord
Shes an eagle when she flies
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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