April appears lusciously
The fourth month comes with the Eastern wind
And I hear the faraway my cuckoo bird sings,
Apprehends our new year begins soon.
I sniff the fragrance of oil-cakes.
Oh! Our nest scattered and wife & myself
The old couple here and the loved ones there.
Who makes the longest bridge in between us?
I see the World map hangs on the wall
Where my tiny island standstill like a Pearl.
My beloved took a footruler
And measured the length like a Surveyor.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
My Cuckoo Clock
I bought a cuckoo clock
And glad was I
To hear its tick and tock,
Its dulcet cry.
But Jones, whose wife is young
And pretty too,
Winced when that bird gave tongue:
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
I have a lady friend
Whom I would wed,
For dalliance should end
In bridal bed.
Until the thought occurred:
Can she be true?
And then I heard that bird:
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
Though ignorance is bliss
And love be blind,
Faithless may be the kiss
Of womankind.
So now sweet echoes mock
My wish to woo:
Confound that cursed clock!
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Month When Sings The Cuckoo
Hark! Spring is coming. Her herald sings,
Cuckoo!
The air resounds and the woodland rings,
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
Leave the milking pail and the mantling cream,
And down by the meadow, and up by the stream,
Where movement is music and life a dream,
In the month when sings the cuckoo.
Away with old Winter's frowns and fears,
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
Now May with a smile dries April's tears.
Cuckoo!
When the bees are humming in bloom and bud,
And the kine sit chewing the moist green cud,
Shall the snow not melt in a maiden's blood,
In the month when sings the cuckoo?
The popinjay mates and the lapwing woos;
Cuckoo!
In the lane is a footstep. I wonder whose?
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
How sweet are low whispers! and sweet, so sweet,
When the warm hands touch and the shy lips meet,
And sorrel and woodruff are round our feet,
In the month when sings the cuckoo.
Your face is as fragrant as moist musk-rose;
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
All the year in your cheek the windflower blows;
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
You flit as blithely as bird on wing;
And when you answer, and when they sing,
I know not if they, or You, be Spring,
In the month when pairs the cuckoo.
Will you love me still when the blossom droops?
Cuckoo!
When the cracked husk falls and the fieldfare troops?
Cuckoo!
Let sere leaf or snowdrift shade your brow,
By the soul of the Spring, sweet-heart, I vow,
I will love you then as I love you now,
In the month when sings the cuckoo.
Smooth, smooth is the sward where the loosestrife grows,
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
As we lie and hear in a dreamy doze,
Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
And smooth is the curve of a maiden's cheek,
When she loves to listen but fears to speak,
And we yearn but we know not what we seek,
In the month when sings the cuckoo.
But in warm mid summer we hear no more,
Cuckoo!
And August brings not, with all its store,
Cuckoo!
When Autumn shivers on Winter's brink,
And the wet wind wails through crevice and chink,
We gaze at the logs, and sadly think
Of the month when called the cuckoo.
But the cuckoo comes back and shouts once more,
Cuckoo!
And the world is as young as it was before;
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
It grows not older for mortal tears,
For the falsehood of men or for women's fears;
'Tis as young as it was in the bygone years,
When first was heard the cuckoo.
I will love you then as I love you now.
Cuckoo!
What cares the Spring for a broken vow?
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
The broods of last year are pairing, this;
And there never will lack, while love is bliss,
Fresh ears to cozen, fresh lips to kiss,
In the month when sings the cuckoo.
O cruel bird! will you never have done?
Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
You sing for the cloud, as you sang for the sun;
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
You mock me now as you mocked me then,
When I knew not yet that the loves of men
Are as brief as the glamour of glade and glen,
And the glee of the fleeting cuckoo.
O, to lie once more in the long fresh grass,
Cuckoo!
And dream of the sounds and scents that pass;
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
To savour the woodbine, surmise the dove,
With no roof save the far-off sky above,
And a curtain of kisses round couch of love,
While distantly called the cuckoo.
But if now I slept, I should sleep to wake
To the sleepless pang and the dreamless ache,
To the wild babe blossom within my heart,
To the darkening terror and swelling smart,
To the searching look and the words apart,
And the hint of the tell-tale cuckoo.
The meadow grows thick, and the stream runs deep,
Cuckoo!
Where the aspens quake and the willows weep;
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
The dew of the night and the morning heat
Will close up the track of my farewell feet:-
So good-bye to the life that once was sweet,
When so sweetly called the cuckoo.
The kine are unmilked, and the cream unchurned,
Cuckoo!
The pillow unpressed, and the quilt unturned,
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
'Twas easy to gibe at a beldame's fear
For the quick brief blush and the sidelong tear;
But if maids will gad in the youth of the year,
They should heed what says the cuckoo.
There are marks in the meadow laid up for hay,
Cuckoo!
And the tread of a foot where no foot should stray:
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
The banks of the pool are broken down,
Where the water is quiet and deep and brown;-
The very spot, if one longed to drown,
And no more to hear the cuckoo.
'Tis a full taut net and a heavy haul.
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
Look! her auburn hair and her trim new shawl!
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
Draw a bit this way where 'tis not so steep;
There, cover her face! She but seems asleep;
While the swallows skim and the graylings leap,
And joyously sings the cuckoo.
poem by Alfred Austin
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Coo-coo
Oh, the cuckoo, she's a pretty bird, and she warbles when she flies
But she never hollers cuckoo till the fourth day of july.
I'm a rambler, i'm a gambler and i lay my money down
But i never start gamblin' when the cuckoo bird's around, round.
Oh the cuckoo, she's a pretty bird, and she warbles when she flies
But she never hollers cuckoo till the fourth day of july.
Said jack o'diamonds, well jack o'diamonds, lord, i know you of old,
Honey you robbed me of my silver and out of my gold.
song performed by by Janis Joplin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cuckoo Clock
We knew it must have been late
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We had no time to wait
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I went to light the fireplace
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I planned it all this way, and
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I snuggled close to her
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Her heart began to purr
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I held my breath inside, and then
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I put my arms around her
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
I put that birdie away
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
His cuckoo was gone to stay
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We both apologized for why
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Forgave that doggone cuckoo
I went back to her side
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I had to swallow my pride
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
The fire had almost died away
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We just got situated
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
I took that clock apart
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I broke the cuckoos heart
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Hell never bother us again
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We just forgot about him
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When a lost bird flies to your roost in the fog
'You are very familiar but I think that you have missed your particular nest.'
The kind bird said.
'Yes, I know my dear but my nest is no more as it's scattered by the Easterly winds.
And I think a lone bird never let me go away isn't it? ' The beautiful singing bird questioned.
'You are most welcome sweet but my nest is not strong enough for the two of us and I have little doubts about the coming hurricane.' The kind lone bird replied
'Let the wind blows and take us away but not alone, now we could start singing together from the place where you have stopped.' And she smiled.
* To Alison & Jerry..................!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I cannot forget the month of June
I cannot forget
The month of June
My memories
Take to my child hood
The Sun was hot red
And the sky blue
Hot winds blew
Little Cuckoo flew
In the dreaded heat
From the coziness
Of her nest
In search of water
And food
Couldn’t bear the heat
Of the sun
Fell on the ground
Gasping for breath
I saw the bird
Took her in my lap
Gave food and water
And saved its life
When evening came
The cuckoo flew back
To its cozy nest
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Valentine's Day
Oh! I wish I were a tiny browny bird from out the south,
Settled among the alder-holts, and twittering by the stream;
I would put my tiny tail down, and put up my tiny mouth,
And sing my tiny life away in one melodious dream.
I would sing about the blossoms, and the sunshine and the sky,
And the tiny wife I mean to have in such a cosy nest;
And if some one came and shot me dead, why then I could but die,
With my tiny life and tiny song just ended at their best.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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Have pity on those who love each other and are separated
Mom you suffered nine months and rest of the life until you died.
I continue and almost fifty eight years now.
On my birthday..........greetings and gifts come along from Australia and Sri Lanka.
My eldest daughter Tharindu and Son-in-law Kelum write,
Wish you a healthy & wealthy life and may your dreams come true!
The youngest daughter Thilini and Son-in-law Chinthaka insists
We could not ask a better friend than you.
Yes of course, my loved ones we are born friends.
It's our fault we broke our own peaceful nest and scattered into different parts.
But the links are much stronger than earlier in the chain.
I drew a World Map in my complicated mind.
I brought Australia to Canada and sent her to Australia
And my tiny precious island Sri Lanka pushed towards Hawaii
And sent Hawaii into the Indian Ocean.
But still it's too far to touch.
Oh! My beloved wife hugs as usual
You are a Sun in my winter Igloo
And a full Moon in the mysterious summer hut.
I kept a piece of cake for my missing son 'Marco'
from my beloved's home made delicious chocolate cake.
My grand son Siluna being a taller day by day
And I dream he becomes a Captain one day
Who steers well in the Ocean of life his seaworthy Vessel.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A woebegone bird watches the forest burned!
Where's that silent tall tree
Who gave us shelter free?
My offspring kept in the roost
And I flew early in the morning
To a faraway farmland!
I collected a mouthful of golden seeds for my loved ones
And on my return in the twilight the forest almost burned!
Where's my children's father and all of them burned together?
Fire has extinguished but I found only the ashes.
In the thick smoke among the debris
I sniff their fragrance but the cruel odour of wildfire
Filled my prostrated lungs.
Where do I fly in the hopeless sky and to whom I bring the food hereafter?
*Is there any Establishment not a court in this troubled World a bird could plea and do they really understand the lament?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Cuckoo
No lyric line I ever penned
The praise this parasitic bird;
And what is more, I don't intend
To write a laudatory word,
Since in my garden robins made
A nest with eggs of dainty spot,
And then a callous cuckoo laid
A lone on on the lot.
Of course the sillies hatched it out
Along with their two tiny chicks,
And there it threw its weight about,
But with the others would not mix.
In fact, it seemed their guts to hate,
And crossly kicked them to the ground,
So that next morning, sorry fate!
Two babes stone dead I found.
These stupid robins, how they strove
To gluttonize that young cuckoo!
And like a prodigy it throve,
And daily greedier it grew.
How it would snap and glup and spit!
Till finally it came to pass,
Growing too big the nest to fit,
It fell out on the grass.
So for a week they fed it there,
As in a nook of turf it lay;
But it was scornful of their care,
for it was twice as big as they.
When lo! one afternoon I heard
A flutelike call: Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
Then suddenly that foulsome bird
Flapped to its feet and flew.
I'm sure it never said goodbye
To its fond foster Pa and Ma,
Though to their desolated sigh
It might have chirruped: "Au revoir."
But no, it went in wanton mood,
Flying the coop for climates new
And so I say: "Ingratitude,
They name's Cuckoo."
poem by Robert William Service
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August....
August is the month for kids it’s the last few weeks of freedom before a new school year begins.
August is the month where many parents are excited that its here cause they don’t want their kids home alone.
August is the last month before fall begins.
August is the only month that has fewer holidays than most months.
August is the month where most teens are happy because it means that it’s the last school year for most.
August is the month that I really don’t care for but I also like as well.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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The Eggs Of The Blue Bird On The Nest
the blue bird
takes care of its nest
all the white eggs
warm beneath its feathers
all those nights
and even cold days
and then when the eggs hatch
the fledgelings
prematurely spread their wings
fall off from the branch
where the nest hangs
on the following morning
you see the ants feasting on their flesh
ah! the blue bird sings again
readies itself for the rain
it escapes away from its sorrows
and flies away...far, far away
far, far away....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mildew on Milestone!
The old Sailor makes knots with his shoestring
And he hears the last year's rattling sound of fallen leaves
in the Autumnal breeze!
He collects the scattered pastels on the floor
that belongs to his grandson
And he sketches a drawing while he sees the wet nappies
of the next door new born baby's cloth line.
Hot Sun still looks young in the midday
And he smiles looking at the calendar and whispers;
'O the month of May how soon it's going to be finished?
And the June comes his beloved wife's birthday
with a big numeral and he counts the copper sulphate pennies
in his antique wallet!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Trico's Song
What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O 'tis the ravish'd nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu! she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin redbreast tunes his note!
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
What Bird So Sings, Yet So Does Wail?
What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
Oh, 'tis the ravished nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu, she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
How at heaven's gates she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin redbreast tunes his note;
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing
Cuckoo, to welcome in the spring,
Cuckoo, to welcome in the spring.
Spring's Welcome
WHAT bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O 'tis the ravish'd nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu! she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin redbreast tunes his note!
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
Northern Wind
There is a wind, my billy, and its awful strong
Come for you, and anyone whos helped you along.
But I want to live, live, live and let the stars shine bright
Yes, I want to live, live, live and let it on alright
And when that bird sings from over that silver wall
I dont want to fight it, billy, cause I want to go
Theres a northern wind, billy, blowin up a southern change
And a northern wind really makin me feel kinda strange
Theres a northern wind, billy, blowin up a southern change
And a northern wind really makin me feel kinda strange
And with this gun goes everything I want to say
Not for you, but for anyone who takes it away
Let it fill his life, life, life until theres nothing left
Let it kill his wife, wife, wife until he goes to bed
And when that bird sings from over that silver wall
I dont want to fight it, billy, cause I want to go
Theres a northern wind, billy, blowin up a southern change
And a northern wind really makin me feel kinda strange
Theres a northern wind, billy, blowin up a southern change
And a northern wind really makin me feel kinda strange
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cuckoo in the Pear-Tree
The Cuckoo sat in the old pear-tree,
Cuckoo!
Raining or snowing, nought cared he.
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo, nought cared he.
The Cuckoo flew over a housetop high.
Cuckoo!
"Dear, are you at home, for here am I?
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo, here am I."
"I dare not open the door to you.
Cuckoo!
Perhaps you are not the right cuckoo?
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cukoo, the right Cuckoo!"
"I am the right Cuckoo, the proper one.
Cuckoo!
For I am my father's only son,
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo, his only son."
"If you are your father's only son -
Cuckoo!
The bobbin pull tightly,
Come through the door lightly -
Cuckoo!
"If you are your father's only son -
Cuckoo!
It must be you, the only one -
Cuckoo, cuckoo, my own Cuckoo!
Cuckoo!"
poem by William Brighty Rands
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Enduring Farewell
Each time the wind ruffles the leaves in the trees outside and a distant bird sings, I see your face and hear your name.
As each day begins it's all I can do, to cope with your enduring farewell.
When the night sky appears I find
myself staring at the heavens and saying I love you over and over again.
A part of me has died with your enduring farewell.
No words ever meant so much, as when you said, 'I love You'. Lying in bed at night, I cry sweet tears for you and it's all I can do, to cope with your enduring departure.
Each time the wind gently moves through the trees and a song bird sings it's sweet medley, I'll see your face and hear your name, because it's my way of dealing with your lasting farewell.
The Cuckoo
That's the cuckoo, you say. I cannot hear it.
When last I heard it I cannot recall; but I know
Too well the year when first I failed to hear it -
It was drowned by my man groaning out to his sheep 'Ho! Ho!'
Ten times with an angry voice he shouted
'Ho! Ho!' but not in anger, for that was his way.
He died that Summer, and that is how I remember
The cuckoo calling, the children listening, and me saying 'Nay'.
And now, as you said, 'There it is', I was hearing
Not the cuckoo at all, but my man's 'Ho! Ho!' instead.
And I think that even if I could lose my deafness
The cuckoo's note would be drowned by the voice of my dead.
poem by Edward Thomas
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