Night-Fliers
THE birds that soar break space
Like heavy bodies hurled!
Not so the birds of night
They move as in a sphere
On which they touch always
How patterned their flight!
The owl, the whippoorwill!
And like volcano's ash
His plumes all cinderous
Black mirrors are his eyes
(The owl's). They'll fill with light
What time will come the cries
As from tongues taut with dews
(The whippoorwills). What sounds
Are in their day-lost world,
What motions and what hues!
poem by Padraic Colum
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Triangles
Three triangles of birds crossed
Over the enormous ocean which extended
In winter like a green beast.
Everything just lay there, the silence,
The unfolding gray, the heavy light
Of space, some land now and then.
Over everything there was passing
A flight
And another flight
Of dark birds, winter bodies
Trembling triangles
Whose wings,
Frantically flapping, hardly
Can carry the gray cold, the desolate days
From one place to another
Along the coast of Chile.
I am here while from one sky to another
The trembling of the migratory birds
Leaves me sunk inside myself, inside my own matter
Like an everlasting well
Dug by an immovable spiral.
Now they have disappeared
Black feathers of the sea
Iron birds
From steep slopes and rock piles
Now at noon
I am in front of emptiness. It’s a winter
Space stretched out
And the sea has put
Over its blue face
A bitter mask.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Red Birds
The cards stadium is gone
and with it so many memories
our first game and ball
and our first autograph card
meeting our favorite players
and we can't forget fredbird
having our hearts soar
when we see our beloved red birds
we chant the red birds
at the beloved bush stadium
seeing and watching
the Cardinals fly
making it to the world series
with one of our final actions
trying to prove to all
the red birds wont die
we won our division
but lost the world series
however we did help break
the Boston Red Sox curse
Bush stadium is now gone
memories are all we have left
of the red birds stadium
were they first learned to fly
the new stadium is up
with memories on the way
but will it be the same
or just bring tears to our eyes
red birds migrated
to a new home this year
to fly on new air
and fly to the world series.
poem by Shauna Stoltz
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A Bird Sanctuary (Vedanthangal-TamilNadu, India)
The calls of birds
Of hues varied
lull all to sleep.
Vedanthangal(Shelter of the Hunters) ,
the rain fed tank,
is the haven for
Cormorants,
the Night Herons,
the Darters, Ducks
Grey Pelicans
and the Moor Hens….
Birds from continents diverse
nest on the Kadamba Trees,
feed, breed and fly around,
dip in water, catch fish
and hop to the trees in glee.
O, that sadist hurls a fish above
and takes it back within its bills!
The world of birds has a lot to teach.
The black, white and grey birds perch side by side.
Birds, plants and animals
give man his essential needs.
But he cuts their throats to fill his bellies.
---
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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If I were a bird.
We all crave the freedom
We believe the kings of the sky posses
The freedom to fly, the freedom to soar
Look down on things below
From the pedastal of wind and wings.
Many times I hear from naive tongues
I wish I could fly like the birds,
Flying over trees and oceans
Look at everything in macroscopic light.
Never do I hear from others
What my heart tells me.
I crave the simplicity of instinct
Innate ability to do all required
Rather than the freedom of flight
I look for a set pattern of motions
That my heart can be content with
I look to knowing how to create
Without the hassle of learning
I look to knowing when to die
Without the freedom of life.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Birds Of Passage
Black shadows fall
From the lindens tall,
That lift aloft their massive wall
Against the southern sky;
And from the realms
Of the shadowy elms
A tide-like darkness overwhelm
The fields that round us lie.
But the night is fair,
And everywhere
A warm, soft vapor fills the air,
And distant sounds seem near;
And above, in the light
Of the star-lit night,
Swift birds of passage wing their flight
Through the dewy atmosphere.
I hear the beat
Of their pinions fleet,
As from the land of snow and sleet
They seek a southern lea.
I hear the cry
Of their voices high
Falling dreamily through the sky,
But their forms I cannot see.
Oh, say not so!
Those sounds that flow
In murmurs of delight and woe
Come not from wings of birds.
They are the throngs
Of the poet's songs,
Murmurs of pleasures, and pains, and wrongs,
The sound of winged words.
This is the cry
Of souls, that high
On toiling, beating pinions, fly,
Seeking a warmer clime.
From their distant flight
Through realms of light
It falls into our world of night,
With the murmuring sound of rhyme.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Beak Kind To Birds!
Beak kind to birds both near and far,
Both high and low as well...
To me, each bird's a superstar!
In fact, to me, they're swell!
Beak kind to birds and show you care
With titbits now and then...
And watch with wonder as they share
Their breakfast once again!
Beak kind and keep your cats at bay...
Else feeding birds take flight!
It's nicer seeing birds at play
Than watching them take fright!
Beak kind to birds, give them their space
So they may co-exist...
For none on Earth can take their place,
So they'd be sorely missed!
Beak kind to birds, they'll flock to you -
They're all our feathered friends!
It doesn't matter, black or blue...
Beak kind - 'cos it makes sense!
poem by Denis Martindale (2003)
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A Poem After A Walk This Afternoon
dust on my feet on my rubber shoes
stamp a mound of mud drying itself
the afternoon sun so hot
this little boy follows me with his gaze
did i appear so big to his attention
or the world is too small for him to play ball?
we look amazed to the same birds
too playing in the skies chasing the ones
not having the same feathers
the sun sets spreading orange colors
waning and now sprinkles some gray hues
the boys playing basketball sweat like they
were bathing on the rain, their bodies gleaming
like some barbecue on spiced oil
time to go home, it is dark, i have no reason to stay
the little boy follows me towards the road
where the flourescent light is turned on by the guards
then i look back, the boy was gone
the whole block is lost eaten by this night
and on the island of light on this road
i stand, waiting for my ride back home
then i look back again, i smile a while
that little boy was me, i got lost somehow
i touch my head, i am setting a new perspective
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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New Perspective
dust on my feet on my rubber shoes
stamp a mound of mud drying itself
the afternoon sun so hot
this little boy follows me with his gaze
did I appear so big to his attention
or the world is too small for him to play ball?
we look amazed to the same birds
too playing in the skies chasing the ones
not having the same feathers
the sun sets spreading orange colors
waning and now sprinkles some gray hues
the boys playing basketball sweat like they
were bathing on the rain, their bodies gleaming
like some barbecue on spiced oil
time to go home, it is dark, I have no reason to stay
the little boy follows me towards the road
where the fluorescent light is turned on by the guards
then I look back, the boy was gone
the whole block is lost eaten by this night
and on the island of light on this road
I stand, waiting for my ride back home
then I look back again, I smile a while
that little boy was me, I got lost somehow
I touch my head, I am setting a new perspective
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If You Go Away
If you go away on this summer day
Then you might as well take the sun away
All the birds that flew in a summer sky
When our love was new and our hearts were high
When the day was young and the night was lo-ong
And the moon stood still for the night birds song
If you go away, If you go away, If you go away
But if you stay I'll make you a day
Like no day has been or will be again
We'll sail on the sun, we'll ride on the rain
We'll talk to the trees and worship the wind
Then if you go-o I'll understand
Leave me just enough love to fill up my hand
If you go away, If you go away, If you go away
If you go away as I know you must
There'll be nothin' left in the world to trust
Just an empty room full of empty space
Like the empty look I see on your face
Can I tell you now as you turn to go
I'll be dying slowly till your next hello
If you go away, If you go away, If you go away
But if you stay, I'll make you a night
Like no night has been or will be again
I'll sail on your smile, I'll ride on your touch
I'll talk to your eyes that I-I love so much
But if you go, I won't cry
For the good's gone from goodbye
If you go away, If you go away, If you go away-ay-ay-ay
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Birds Of Peace
How Beautiful of birds
of the air,
seeing their awesome
wonderful flair.
So quiet it would be
without their sound
watching them as they
fly all around.
Sweet harmony do they make.
A lonesome world this would be,
for no birds making flight
these wonderful creatures I see.
Beautiful birds of nature
wonderful sounds to my ear
touching me with wonder,
so gentle with serenity
and so dear.
wrote 4-28-07
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
When the birds fly
When the birds fly
the mind opens its eye
the heart looks up to the sky
the birds fly.
The birds fly south
the ear opens its mouth
the nose sees summer
the kids they are playing out...
When the birds fly
we dream our words dont die.
Reborn with a babys cry
the birds fly leaving stars
they stay in the night,
we are the birds
we escape to the light.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Important Birds
Important findings have been made,
Disorders are realised for the people.
Geese shall sound in the skies
To enlighten a few who listen.
Many times a day, the sounds of birds
Arrive and shake the disorder.
An albatross hurts me further,
An eagle has no home here, but further.
Let importance be the guide not the wind,
For wind is reluctant in the eyes of us.
The sky has abandoned the birds at night,
Or have the birds abandoned the night-sky?
Geese and swans are beautiful birds,
But where are all the seagulls?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dawn Of A New Earth
dawn sways still birds
into golden dawn chorus
paradise heard bird songs
birth born birds of flight
soar on wings of songs
carried upon chorus air
serenades to dreams
to wonder sung solos
dawn bathes our faces
light lit faces seal love
passion dawn sways seas
in warm afterglow love
truly the dawn
sways the seas
seas of infinity
dawn fire moves
model clay bodies
bodies of breathing
thunder distance echoes
over new shores
over new horizons
truly between wake
dreams broke sleep
is interaction of life
an interaction of life
infused into hard world
earth ecosystem harmony
potential world of bliss
love creativity
spinning into infinity
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Boring Day
as he opens the window
there is only the shadow of leaves on the trees
on a gray background
it is twilight, midway between night and day
sounds of a cold wind from the forest
the rooster crows and some chirping birds
you sit and gaze through the window
light comes in
this happens everyday and there is nothing significant
after 49 years, and this time a hole is bored inside your heart
you fear that love is gone.
that the birds do not chirp musical notes
the wind much colder now and you shiver
light seeps in trickles like rain on your wrinkled skin
it is the same morning, and it will be same mornings all over again.
you do not move. You let time go and your hands are frozen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Friends of stones
It is not a paradise
although the sing of birds
It is not the Hell
although the song of birds
although the sound of waves
it is only our world
with many songs in the sky
with many birds in the dream
with many birds in really
It ‘s here that we are living
we are little, very little
we are old, very old
we are wandering,
wandering and loving
this space
we are also
friends of stones
friends of rocks
Fear is with us
But what fear?
A fear sweet
A fear black
or another fear?
Where is the fire of the fear?
Where is the fear of the fear?
Into our World
in a deep of monster
nobody know this
in this world of the words
in this words of the world
but what fear screechs
here and now
without your hands
of red sun?
poem by Jean Francois Le Goff
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Treasure, The
When colour goes home into the eyes,
And lights that shine are shut again
With dancing girls and sweet birds' cries
Behind the gateways of the brain;
And that no-place which gave them birth, shall close
The rainbow and the rose: --
Still may Time hold some golden space
Where I'll unpack that scented store
Of song and flower and sky and face,
And count, and touch, and turn them o'er,
Musing upon them; as a mother, who
Has watched her children all the rich day through
Sits, quiet-handed, in the fading light,
When children sleep, ere night.
poem by Rupert Brooke
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The Treasure
When colour goes home into the eyes,
And lights that shine are shut again,
With dancing girls and sweet birds' cries
Behind the gateways of the brain;
And that no-place which gave them birth, shall close
The rainbow and the rose:-
Still may Time hold some golden space
Where I'll unpack that scented store
Of song and flower and sky and face,
And count, and touch, and turn them o'er,
Musing upon them; as a mother, who
Has watched her children all the rich day through,
Sits, quiet-handed, in the fading light,
When children sleep, ere night.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1914)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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God Is With Us
The most beautiful shows
On earth comes from God
God's Presences
All around us we can see
That Presence is of the Lord
Birds in flight performances
Doing their sky dances-
Of the day
Air array
Birds flying in the hues
Of God's brilliant skies
The seeing eyes
That sees
See the Presence of Jesus
All around us
God's children can see
God's greatest Presence
Of all to us
God senting His Son
Emmanuel-
With us is God
The Christ Jesus
poem by Helen Harris
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250
some birds/ cries
There is nowhere
To escape
From the
Harshness of
This world
That is what I think
In the mountains'
Farthest
In the forests'
deepest
I still hear
Some birds’
cries
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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