Robin
Robin perched on twisted branch;
Sun reflected branches,
Sparkling morning light
Take in the moment;
As it flies by.
Robin twittering on a twisted post;
Cool breeze blowing leaves,
Cross this winters floor.
Spend a moment,
As it flies by.
Robin perched on spade handle;
Fluffs up his breast,
Against the winters morn.
Take moment, trap it
As it flies by.
© 2012
poem by Nick Strong
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Robin Redbreast
Good-bye, good-bye to Summer!
For Summer's nearly done;
The garden smiling faintly,
Cool breezes in the sun;
Our Thrushes now are silent,
Our Swallows flown away, --
But Robin's here, in coat of brown,
With ruddy breast-knot gay.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
Robin singing sweetly
In the falling of the year.
Bright yellow, red, and orange,
The leaves come down in hosts;
The trees are Indian Princes,
But soon they'll turn to Ghosts;
The scanty pears and apples
Hang russet on the bough,
It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late,
'Twill soon be Winter now.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And welaway! my Robin,
For pinching times are near.
The fireside for the Cricket,
The wheatstack for the Mouse,
When trembling night-winds whistle
And moan all round the house;
The frosty ways like iron,
The branches plumed with snow, --
Alas! in Winter, dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And a crumb of bread for Robin,
His little heart to cheer.
poem by William Allingham
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Inspiration
Inspiration can't be seen.
I mean…you can only feel it.
Your wit won't help a bit
So that to convey the feelings,
To create a real art
That comes straight from the heart,
Like a holy writ recommit
God's gift and revelation.
How do I feel my inspiration?
It's not a certain motivation,
But only my emotions
And certain commotions.
Just the same in other words:
Inspiration is like birds or …
It is something very crazy,
Something very lazy,
Something weepy,
Something very sleepy,
Something very heavy
Or impossibly high.
This something
Becomes suddenly light,
Light as a cloud, and flies,
Flies, flies, flies, flies…
Up to the moment it dies.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 8th of September,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Triolet: The Robin's Song
The robin perched atop the tree
Signals spring his warbling song;
How long will I be pleased to see
The robin perched atop the tree?
Because it seems he sings for me,
I feel I want to sing along
With the robin perched atop the tree
Who signals spring his warbling song!
poem by Richard St. Clair
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The red weaver
The red weaver flies from a plate of bulrush
dances on a branch while it slap its red wings,
walking whistling to and thro,
before it whispers twittering deep in the reeds.
It flutters around draws sparks through the air,
swoops down at it's weaved nest
with a beak full of grass, twigs or some hay,
flies up and down and suddenly back.
There is something pretty to it that catches the eye
when through the blue sky it draws a glowing line,
when early in the morning it awakes me
when it hangs twittering at its small nest,
the red weaver flies from a plate of bulrush
before it whispers twittering deep in the reeds.
poem by Gert Strydom
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His Friends Are More Than Fond Of Robin
(carly simon)
His friends are more than fond of robin
He doesnt need to compliment them
And always as he leaves he leaves them
Feeling proud just to know him
When robin goes on holiday
Theres no-one livin in our lane
Oh yes, folks still live in our lane
But theyre not like robin
Robin, Ive never told you
But Ill be yours until were old
Please learn to call me in your dreams
The way Im lookin at you is just as it seems
Hes talked about before he gets there
Though he can never understand it
And I wouldnt like to be his alone
But Im shy and cant demand it
But when robin gives his love to others
Theres no-one living in my heart
Oh yes, I keep others in my heart
But theyre not like robin
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Dreamt Of Robin
I opened the casement this morn at starlight,
And, the moment I got out of bed,
The daisies were quaking about in their white
And the cowslip was nodding its head.
The grass was all shivers, the stars were all bright,
And Robin that should come at e'en--
I thought that I saw him, a ghost by moonlight,
Like a stalking horse stand on the green.
I went bed agen and did nothing but dream
Of Robin and moonlight and flowers.
He stood like a shadow transfixed by a stream,
And I couldn't forget him for hours.
I'd just dropt asleep when I dreamed Robin spoke,
And the casement it gave such a shake,
As if every pane in the window was broke;
Such a patter the gravel did make.
So I up in the morning before the cock crew
And to strike me a light I sat down.
I saw from the door all his track in the dew
And, I guess, called 'Come in and sit down.'
And one, sure enough, tramples up to the door,
And who but young Robin his sen?
And ere the old folks were half willing to stir
We met, kissed, and parted agen.
poem by John Clare
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Twisted matter
Twisted faces, twisted emotions,
Twisted past, twisted present,
Twisted future, twisted hopes
Twisted preaching, twisted action,
Twisted truth, twisted lie,
Everything is twisted and twisted,
O Lord, where is thy twist?
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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It's Cold
Winter is coming I feel cold
My hands are frozen as are my toes
My head is wrapped up in a scarf
Brightly coloured so people laugh
I see no pigeons - just robins and tits
Pecking away at the ground, pecking for bits
I've just walked in and switch the heating on
So hopefully the cold chill will be quickly gone
As I boil the kettle to make some tea
I see a robin perched outside on the balcony
He turns round when I slowly open the door
Cocks his head and watches me slowly withdraw
With a quick flutter he flies under my chair
And starts pecking at bits of food that are there
It's cold outside and I wish he would stay
In the warm where I can watch him play
Suddenly without warning to my surprise
He flies off leaving a deposit of enormous size
So if I see that little bird again you see
He can stay outside and be cold in a tree.
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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Foiled by beauty for M'lady Sally plumb
A spider web bedecked with dew.
The early morning sun shines through.
Creates a tapestry of light.
A work of art in its own right.
Because the sparkling dew negates.
The spider webs efficiency.
Until the sun evaporates
the morning dew sufficiently
The spider must wait patiently
until at last she breaks her fast
Flies tangled inextricably
in the sticky threads she cast.
The spider builds instinctively.
A trap we aren’t supposed to see.
As long as it is visible
It’s totally impossible.
For the silken trap to do
(It is designed to be unseen)
The task it is intended to.
But for the dew it would have been.
Although it’s pleasing to our eyes
We know it isn’t meant to be
It’s obvious to passing flies
who can avoid it easily.
The hungry spider would prefer
to do without the morning dew.
Which seems intent to deprive her
of fat flies which are her due.
The spider’s loss is our gain
We see the transient beauty.
Which we may never see again.
If only temporarily.
The spider web bedecked with dew
To us a source of great delight
Created each morning anew
by dew drops reflecting sun light.
Although the spider breakfasts late.
There’s little doubt she will survive.
I’m sure she will appreciate
her breakfast when it does arrive.
Tuesday,08 March 2011
http.blog.myspace.com poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Open Eyes:
Through window
Dream flies
haiku by Jonathan Robin (22 August 1995)
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In This Moment
In life there comes a moment when all things are made clear, and my clarity is in this moment.
In this moment I know that I want to live the rest of my life beside you.
In this moment I know I want to start my own branch on my family tree with you.
In this moment I know that I love you.
So as I take your hand and gaze into your eyes I know that this moment is the right moment to ask you to be my wife.
Now, before you say yes think because if you do our life together forever begins
in this moment.
One Mirror Too Many
From the moment you see
The moment you breath
The moment I touch you
From the moment you crawl
The moment you fall
The instant I loved you again
From the moment of darkness
The moment of light
The second I kissed you
From the moment I enter
The moment I leave
In this moment of rapture
Chorus
One mirror to many gonna tie you up
A life forever empty has got to be tough
To many starless night gonna leave you blind
Can never make it right
From the moment you stumble
The moment you run
In your presence I crumble
From the moment it happens
The moment you know
Theres no life without you
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epitaph On A Free But Tame Redbreast, A Favourite Of Miss Sally Hurdis
These are not dew-drops, these are tears,
And tears by Sally shed
For absent Robin, who she fears
With too much cause, is dead.
One morn he came not to her hand
As he was wont to come,
And, on her finger perched, to stand
Picking his breakfast-crumb.
Alarmed she called him, and perplext
She sought him, but in vain;
That day he came not, nor the next,
Nor ever came again.
She therefore raised him here a tomb,
Though where he fell, or how,
None knows, so secret was his doom,
Nor where he moulders now.
Had half a score of coxcombs died
In social Robin's stead,
Poor Sally's tears had soon been dried,
Or haply never shed.
But Bob was neither rudely bold
Nor spiritlessly tame,
Nor was, like theirs, his bosom cold,
But always in a flame.
poem by William Cowper
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Robbin Tree
The Robin begins to build her nest
in the gnarled tree;
the twigs are twisted;
the branches lack leaves;
and the nest is exposed
offering no shelter.
She puts another twig
into the tree fork;
but it falls to the ground.
She looks away west
and leaves.
Her wings
flapping
out a message:
Nature is abandoning us.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Laws Of Nature
In the lonely wood of Clara orange breast robin pipes his song
A warning to all Clara robins 'that this here space to me belong'
And neighbour cock robin listen and the message is understood
Of old cocky himself master at the corner of the wood.
Every morning of the Spring time from branch of tall larch tree
He utter forth a warning in a song like melody
As if to say 'hey neighbour robin stay clear of my boundary'
For if you venture across my border blood will be spilt needlessly.
Even in the wilds of the wild kingdom all creatures are not wholly free
Some are bound by law of Nature to stay in one territory
And like us mortal humans they fall out and disagree
And they wage war on each other and for the loser it's die or flee.
In the lonely wood of Clara on this bright morning in May
Orange breast robin pipes his warning 'keep away oh keep away'
Keep away ye other robins from my wife and family
Dare ye venture across my border this acre belong to me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Cannot Go, I Cannot Stay
I Cannot Go, I Cannot Stay
Date: July 10,2012
I cannot go
I cannot stay
So cruel a heart
To feel this way
Chained and rusted
To the fence
Too tired to stand
In its defense
The vine is twisted
My soul's at risk
A pull so strong
It can't resist
The drumming sound
Of every beat
Has passion spilling
In the ink
Back and forth
The trapeze flies
A rainbow blurring
In my eyes
Set on dreams
Out of reach
Never finding
A moment's peace
Love and hate
Between the lines
Each are looking
For the signs
So cruel a heart
To feel this way
I cannot go
I cannot stay
************************************* ********
Copyright © 2012 Leria Hawkins, All Rights Reserved
poem by Leria Hawkins
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Tempus Fugit
Born in the night
She would run like a leopard
That freaks at the sight
Of a mind close beside herself
And the nearer I came
How the country would change
She was using the landscape
To hide herself.
More in the mind
Than the body this feeling
A sense at the end
Of a circular line
That is drawn at an angle
I see when Im with you
To navigate waters and finally answer to-yes.
If you were there you would want to be near me
Innocence, you could hold all the materials
And though nothing would really be living
It would shock your fall into landing light
In the north sky time flies fast to the morning
The cold of the dawn it meant nothing to us
You were keeping your best situation
An answer to-yes
(yes, yes) and the moment I see you
(yes, yes) its so good to be near you
(yes, yes) and the feeling you give me
(yes, yes) makes me want to be with you
(yes, yes) from the moment you tell me - yes
If you could see all the roads I have travelled
Towards some unusable last equilibrium
Run like an athlete and die like a dead beaten speed-freak
An answer to all of your answers to-yes
In the north sky time flies faster than morning
The cold of the dawn it meant nothing to us
You were keeping your best situation
An answer to yes
(yes, yes) and the moment I see you
(yes, yes) its so good to be near you
(yes, yes) and the feeling you give me
(yes, yes) makes me want to be with you
(yes, yes) if we wait for an answer
(yes, yes) will the silence be broken
(yes, yes) should we wait for an answer
(yes, yes) do we leave it unspoken
(yes yes yes yes . . .)
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tempus Fugit
Born in the night
She would run like a leopard
That freaks at the sight
Of a mind close beside herself
And the nearer I came
How the country would change
She was using the landscape
To hide herself.
More in the mind
Than the body this feeling
A sense at the end
Of a circular line
That is drawn at an angle
I see when Im with you
To navigate waters and finally answer to-yes.
If you were there you would want to be near me
Innocence, you could hold all the materials
And though nothing would really be living
It would shock your fall into landing light
In the north sky time flies fast to the morning
The cold of the dawn it meant nothing to us
You were keeping your best situation
An answer to-yes
(yes, yes) and the moment I see you
(yes, yes) its so good to be near you
(yes, yes) and the feeling you give me
(yes, yes) makes me want to be with you
(yes, yes) from the moment you tell me - yes
If you could see all the roads I have travelled
Towards some unusable last equilibrium
Run like an athlete and die like a dead beaten speed-freak
An answer to all of your answers to-yes
In the north sky time flies faster than morning
The cold of the dawn it meant nothing to us
You were keeping your best situation
An answer to yes
(yes, yes) and the moment I see you
(yes, yes) its so good to be near you
(yes, yes) and the feeling you give me
(yes, yes) makes me want to be with you
(yes, yes) if we wait for an answer
(yes, yes) will the silence be broken
(yes, yes) should we wait for an answer
(yes, yes) do we leave it unspoken
(yes yes yes yes . . .)
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prequel..cock Robin.
PREQUEL..COCK ROBIN.
THE DAWN MIST HANGS LOW THROUGHOUT THE VALLEY
CREATING THE SHROUD WHICH ALLOWS TIMID CREATURES TO VENTURE OUT
IN THE DISTANCE, THE WOOP OF A DOVE, RAT-TAT-TAT OF WOODPECKER RINGS OUT
SOON ALL LIFE TAKES THEIR PLACE, MAN AND ALL.
WOODCUTTER SAM COPPICES IN A SUSTAINABLE WAY
AS SOON AS HE IS GONE THE ANTS AND WOODLICE ARRIVE TO CART THE CHIPS AWAY
LIFE CAN BE SWEET HERE, HARMONY ENDURES
THE SQUIRREL AND THE JAY ARE ONE..THESE ARE MINE..THOSE ARE YOURS
BUT THERE'S SOMETHING MISSING, ROUTINE HAS FINALLY RELEASED THEIR MINDS
WHERE IS COCK ROBIN'S CHIRPING OF THE TWITTERING KIND?
HE MUST BE IN THE SOUTH OF THE VALLEY, SAY'S JOHN CROW
OH NO, THIS ISN'T THE DAY HE'D GO
SOON THE WORD HAD GONE OUT, COCK ROBIN HAS NOT BEEN SEEN
HE'LL RETURN BEFORE LONG AND TELL US WHERE HE'S BEEN
THE HOURS WEAR ON, THE RUMOURS ABOUND, ALL ARE LISTENING FOR THAT CHIPPY-CHIRPY SOUND
IN THE FOLLOWING DAYS WITH NO MORNING ACLAIM FROM COCK ROBIN
THE TEARS SHED ARE HIDDEN IN THE MISTY WETNESS OF THE MORNING.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Fifty Faggots
There they stand, on their ends, the fifty fag gots
That once were underwood of hazel and ash
In Jenny Pink's copse. Now, by the hedge
Close packed, they make a thicket fancy alone
Can creep through with the mouse and wren. Next spring
A blackbird or robin will nest there,
Accustomed to them, thinking they will remain
Whatever is for ever to a bird:
This Spring it is too late; the swift has come.
'Twas a hot day for carrying them up:
Better they will never warm me, though they must
Light several Winters' fires. Before they are done
The war will have ended, many other things
Have ended, maybe, that I can no more
Foresee or more control than robin and wren.
poem by Edward Thomas
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