Chewing On Memories Like Broken Mirrors In Her Sleep
Chewing on memories like broken mirrors in her sleep
tears of blood run from her eyes.
She doesn't know I'm watching
but I've got windows everywhere.
But for her
just for her
because nobody else cares
third eye satellites with unlimited airspace
in her choice of skies to match her eyes.
A haemorrhage of sunsets.
Fly little bird fly
as if you weren't the shattered sparrow
God took his eye off
when you fell.
Sometimes the mystic oversights
have more to say
about the great revelations of the world
than all the burning bushes in the valley of Tuwa.
Rumours and news.
Fly little bird fly.
Be an apostate waterbird
and let your skull skip out over the lake
like the moon through a glass house
that's been asking for it for years.
There must be stars
that haven't bloomed yet
somewhere in the corner of a leftover garden
that no one's trampled on
like moon rocks
on a firewalk with a spoon
that hisses like the head of a viper
boiling with venom
at the tip of the tongue of a Zippo lighter.
Fly little bird fly
into a state of grace
that isn't tainted by your experience
of the taste of humanity
that threw you like bad meat
down your own wishing well.
How they pried your innocence out of you
like a flower before it was ready to open
like a keepsake from a locket
your mother gave to you on her death bed
like a silver bullet that would keep you safe
from the grave robbers
the moment you used it on yourself.
Fly little bird fly.
I don't know why
people attach more of an emergency
to the exit
than they do to the entrance
but I guess you'd have to ask a junkie about that
who's used to coming in through the back door
with a ticket to ride
that's better than a forged passport
to Disneyland
after you've done business with the Pentagon.
Fly little bird fly.
Don't lose your nerve for enlightenment.
There's the Bodhi tree.
There's Venus in the dawn.
And there's all this emptiness.
Isn't it sweeter
than a hot fix
once you've gone beyond
the last judgment between right and wrong
like the pick up sticks of the I Ching
into the nirvanic bliss
of discovering nothing
was your best guess after all?
Fly little bird fly.
Disappear into your own eyes
like a candle
that's stopped sticking its tongue out at the darkness
looking for a new place to hit.
Fly little bird fly
as if you weren't tarred and feathered like Icarus.
And may the sun that shines at midnight
find you a lot more approachable
than apple blossoms
scattered like ashes on the wind
or fireflies that can't hold their fixed positions
like the stars.
O it's so anatomically true
that life on earth hurts
especially when you've fallen
out of love with love
like a baby out of the nest of a lullaby.
Down will come baby
shaman and all.
I see your bruised body on the bed
like the embryo of some past miscarriage
that taught you how flesh
can grieve for its own death
while it's still alive.
I see the black haloes.
I see the bright horns.
I see the butterfly feelers
that have burnt out
like the short-lived filaments
of your average light bulb
and the place where you were anointed
with holy oil that hissed.
And it's hard to miss where the apple sat
when William Burroughs
shot you through the head
pretending he was William Tel
like your crackhead boyfriend did last night.
Luckily he missed your heart.
He should have hired a firing squad
instead of relying on a sniper.
You don't send a single viper
to do the job
of the whole snakepit
when you take out a contract
on anything as elusive as that.
I've made the bed
and you can lie in it alone
for as long as you want.
I'll keep watch over you
like a mongoose or a lighthouse
over a bird that was stared to stone by snakes
and I won't have anything to expiate
if I see their shadows
sliding hate mail under the door.
Fly little bird fly.
No more skies that lie like windows
about what you're going through.
No more pretending
those bruises on your arm
are rare orchids of jungle love.
When you went to sleep
tangled up in the powerlines
you couldn't teach to dance to your flute
and the rhythm of your body
like bullwhips
you might have felt
like a broken kite on a funeral pyre
but if my magic still works
by the time you wake up
I'll make sure
you open your eyes like a phoenix.
So fly little bird fly.
The world won't heal while you sleep.
Your lover won't have a change of heart.
He broke you like a chandelier
he threw down the road
in a drunken rage
on a Friday night
like a bottle of beer.
One solitude denies another theirs.
Lovers take each other hostage.
The rest is the Stockholm syndrome.
One fanatic.
One addict.
It looks like devotion
It looks like a life raft on the sea of love
but the ocean's gone rabid and mad.
Just look at the way it foams at the mouth.
Things are bad.
Fly little bird fly.
You're not caught in the chimney
with no way out.
You're the genie of the lamp.
You're the one that tunes the power lines
that are humming along with you
like Mozart with a sparrow.
You're the silence
that times the rhythm of the music.
You're the tuning fork
not the lightning rod
of a wanna be god
in a pick-up truck
who keeps you around
to beat on like a false idol
who shalt not come before him.
Stop pecking at the crumbs of your dreams
like the leftovers of a garden
that used to be secret
That's no way to get out of a labyrinth
when you've got wings.
So fly little bird fly.
Disappear into the depths of a starmap
that breaks into flames as you approach
the creative intensities of your own shining
like sumac in the fall.
Here's the dead branch.
Here's the green one.
You be the moon.
You be the blossom.
You be the firefly.
You be the hidden night bird
with the faraway call
that doesn't make the distinction at all
because you're too far gone to tell
by any feature of the light
you can often see things deeper
in a black mirror
than you can in a white.
poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
To a Sleeping Child
Lips, lips, open!
Up comes a little bird that lives inside
Up comes a little bird, and peeps, and out he flies.
All the day he sits inside, and sometimes he sings,
Up he comes, and out he goes at night to spread his wings.
Little bird, little bird, whither will you go?
Round about the world, while nobody can know.
Little bird, little bird, whither do you flee?
Far away around the world, while nobody can see.
Little bird, little bird, how long will you roam?
All round the world and around again home;
Round the round world, and back through the air,
When the morning comes, the little bird is there.
Back comes the little bird and looks and in he flies,
Up wakes the little boy, and opens both his eyes.
Sleep, sleep, little boy, little bird’s away,
Little bird will come again, by the peep of day;
Sleep, little boy, the little bird must go
Round about the world, while nobody can know.
Sleep, sleep sound, little bird goes round,
Round and round he goes; sleep, sleep sound.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ay De Mi
O bird, that used to press,
Thy head against my cheek
With touch that seem'd to speak,
And ask a tender 'yes' -
Ay de mi, my bird:
Ay de mi, my bird, my bird -
Ay de mi, my bird.
O tender downy breast,
And warmly beating heart,
That beating seem'd a part
Of me who gave it rest -
Ay de mi, my bird:
Ay de mi, my bird, my bird -
Ay de mi, my bird.
poem by George Eliot
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Our Bird In Your Cage
we have this bird
we both own it and love it and care for it
our bird
and you have this cage
that you only own
golden, new and strong and as you say it
so reliable
that when our bird is in that cage
it will be safe
and cannot escape
we feed this bird together
and give it water and birdseeds
and a place of twigs and swing
where the bird can play
and perch upon
like it is on a tree
days and years
we keep this bird in your cage
and we see it is dying
and wanting to be free
yet you say, this sickness is just temporary
time heals what has wounded it
and shall forget the power of its wings
days and more years
we keep this bird in your cage
and i have not listened at all
to the sad song of that bird
her waning chirps
her weakened wings
her way of losing hold to the dreams of its wings
today we see this bird is dead
but you have no sadness at all
you say, you will buy another bird
again to be kept in your cage
i could have told you
i am the bird in your cage and i too have forgotten the power of
my wings
i could have told you, i have long died
and have forgotten what freedom is, what love is, what i am
in the first place. How can i ever tell you?
you are my cage.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Now Little Bird?
what now little bird?
you look around you
the nest is empty
and mother bird is far away
and siblings
have taken the first jump
to the pond
to learn to float
and then
fly
you think that mother-bird
comes back
to feed you with another worm?
no, little bird
no one is coming back for you
you do not even
know if you have a father-bird
to save you
no, little bird
do not wait
do not waste your time
the sun shines
and it is time
for you to go too
fly now
little bird
find the real meaning of your wings....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Making Lvoe With Her Own Bed
you are just near me
but between us is a door
and between that door
is another door, and so
when you say a word
i have to figure out what
you really mean,
when i open the door
there is a glass wall and
i thought it was you
humming,
it is cold tonight
i am closing a window
out there
i see a black bird perched
upon a branch,
it is cold and i am shutting
myself for any
kind of significance like
what if the bird dies?
what if the bird is you
disguised as a bird?
tonight i cannot sleep
something bothers me
all these thoughts bother me
there is no note
that you are coming back
from that long trip
away from home
was it Sarah who said
that she is making love with her bed?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Set the Bird Free for the Skies
My wish got fulfilled
When I caught hold of a bird
I decided to cage her
Feed, play and save her
From people and vultures
Preying for her
Making the bird to live longer
I told my wish to the little bird
The little bird replied
You are a greedy man
You have taken my freedom
To fulfill ugly wishes
Now I can’t fly
See the world with my eyes
Sit and nest on trees
You want to me die in captivity
I shall love to die flying
As god destined
I felt
Lead being poured
Into my ears
Tears rolled from my eyes
I set the bird free
For the skies
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bird's Wish
The bird asks me
What I’d do
If I am a bird.
I tell him
High and high I’d soar
So high that I’d see the earth no more
I’d be a bird on the tree
I’d be a bird that’s free!
What you’d do bird
If you’re a man?
To be fair
It’d be my only prayer to God
Don’t be so hard
Make me once again a bird!
Saying this the bird sings
And spreads its wings to a sky
I can never fly!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flower and Bird
Amongst the lonely branches of a tree,
Stood a lovely flower fragrant and free,
She was the sight of every passer-by,
'What a beautiful flower! ' people would cry.
The flower in the prime of its youth,
Couldn’t identify life and its real truth,
Proud by its fragrance and beauty it stood,
And thought that beauty was what made it good,
Impressed by its beauty a little bird would sing,
The tale of its love and the whole valley would ring,
Perched on the branch of the great oak tree,
The bird sings its love for the flower to see,
People would stop and look at this tale,
Of the beautiful lady and the gallant male.
And one day the bird let its heart out,
And the beautiful flower refused with pout,
The bird wanting its beloved’s heart,
Asked her, 'What do I do so that we don’t part? '
And the proud flower told the lonely bird,
'There is a flower down the valley, have you heard?
Its brilliant red, is said is more beautiful than me,
So dear bird, make me red, as red as I can be! '
The bird said, 'But your beauty is no match,
So beautiful are you that my heart, you did catch! '
The flower in its pride and anger,
Told the bird 'Oh! Don’t bother',
The sadness in its eyes, the bird couldn’t see,
And said, 'I gift the colour red to thee! '
Saying this he pierced his heart on a thorn,
And spilt the blood on her till he was torn,
And the flower indeed did become red,
With the love of the little bird’s blood,
People would stare at the beautiful flower,
And amongst the branches it would hover,
The people passing soon forgot the song of the bird,
But the silent lament of the flower was never heard,
The flower never forgot the love of its bird,
But the melody of the poor bird was never heard!
poem by Supriya Mothay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Sides, One Coin
White bird of peace,
won't you please come save me,
since I'm swallowed by grief and I need sweet release.
Black bird of death,
won't you wrap 'round my neck,
as the ace, king, and queen fall away from the deck.
The caged bird sings,
but the lone bird dies;
Set it free, let it be, let it open your eyes.
poem by William Blake Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Baby Bird
Is it true birds fly south for the winter
Wish i was a bird for just one day
I would fly to and perch on your window
My baby bird flew away
I love you my baby bird
But i had to set you free
I watched you glide with the wind high above the trees
Maybe i could be a boat and sail to your shore
I miss my baby bird
So next winter i will move south
I will look for you in the sky
You are no longer a baby bird as you have grown
Do you now have baby birds of your own
I long to see you again my baby bird my best friend
I wish i was a bird for just one day
I would sore sore so high
Wishing is all i can do for now
How is my baby bird
Do you miss me for i miss you
Bye my baby but not goodbye
This Little Bird
John d loudermilk
Theres a little bird that somebody sends
Down to the earth to live on the wind.
Born on the wind and he sleeps on the wind
This little bird that somebody sends.
Hes light and fragile and feathered sky blue,
So thin and graceful the sun shines through.
This little bird who lives on the wind,
This little bird that somebody sends.
He flies so high up in the sky
Out of reach of human eye.
And the only time that he touches the ground
Is when that little bird
Is when that little bird
Is when that little bird dies.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shore Leave Ornithology
Slacks, coffee trend
I could have been in the us navy
Flapping grey, coffee smoke
I could have been in another nineteen-fifty
Where the hell were you?
Rough stencil, print music
Cardboard, cardboard, cardboard, cardboard, cardboard coffee
Saxophone mention barbers, n.y.
The cigarette was burning, the flat shoes
Stool
Bongo, coffee, don't mention that black man
The leather-coat was his
Where was she?
Could have been in the us navy
Flow beating air, table-top, shoulder slung
Shore leave, no sailors here
Cardboard, cardboard, cardboard, cardboard
Liquor slacks twisting
The cigarette was burning
The flat shoes, the flat shoes, the flat shoes
Bird, bird, bird, bird
I could have been in another nineteen-fifty
Bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird
Bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird
I could have been in another nineteen-fifty
Bird, bird, bird
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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T-birds
Circle high, circle low.
Jammers fly, t-birds.
You show, you show, whiplash go.
You show, you show, t-birds. mighty bird.
T-bird, my mighty bird.
On the dot in the slot, tie the knot.
On the dot timed kisses.
In the slot on the dot, tie the knot.
In the slot, no misses.
Mighty bird.
T-bird, my mighty bird.
T-bird, mighty bird.
Black sun conquerer.
Two thousand years ago... a great race... warriors... lived in... they had many gods... mayans... gods... mazatlan... (if you can fill in these blanks please email [email protected])
Black sun worshipper.
Coil it up, wind it out, strike it hot!
Coil it up plumed serpent.
Coil it up, wind it out, strike it hot!
Coil it up, my t-bird.
Serpent curl.
T-bird, rule the world.
T-bird, mighty bird.
Black sun born again.
Oh I love my t-bird, t-bird.
song performed by by Blondie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Had I been a bird
Had I been a bird,
i would fly high in the sky,
enjoy the bird’s-eye view of this beautiful world,
that God has gifted to us.
I would fly to different nations,
with my mighty wings,
and spread the song of,
Love and Peace.
Had I been a bird
I would wake up people,
with my enchanting and melodious songs.
I would carry them away from
their never ending troubles,
to the world of everlasting bliss.
Had I been a bird
I would be the herald of true love,
carry the epistle,
to unite the broken hearts,
with the bond of care and adoration.
Had I been a bird
I would care no caste nor creed,
extricate the shackles of discrimination,
be the symbol of equality;
Love those who share my notion,
and for whom I shall build a mansion.(of hay)
Had I been a bird
I would wait for no instruction,
Nor will I command.
I shall pick the grains of my choice,
for I am the master of my heart and will,
and do all befitting for Love and Peace.
poem by Gitaanjali Naidu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sea-Bird's Song
On the deep is the mariner's danger,
On the deep is the mariner's death;
Who, to fear of the tempest a stranger,
Sees the last bubble burst of his breath?
'T is the sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird,
Lone looker on despair;
The sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird,
The only witness there.
Who watches their course, who so mildly
Careen to the kiss of the breeze?
Who lists to their shrieks, who so wildly
Are clasped in the arms of the seas?
'T is the sea-bird, &c.
Who hovers on high o'er the lover,
And her who has clung to his neck?
Whose wing is the wing that can cover,
With its shadow, the foundering wreck?
'T is the sea-bird, &c.
My eye in the light of the billow,
My wing on the wake of the wave;
I shall take to my breast for a pillow,
The shroud of the fair and the brave.
I'm a sea-bird, &c.
My foot on the iceberg has lighted,
When hoarse the wild winds veer about;
My eye, when the bark is benighted,
Sees the lamp of the Light-House go out.
I'm the sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird,
Lone looker on despair;
The sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird,
The only witness there.
poem by John Gardiner Calkins Brainard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Strange Bird
Strange bird
By: jimmy buffett, jay oliver
1989
Half fast and seldom seen
He dont blip the radar screen
On the deck below the dune
Under the commanders moon
Strange bird from a different nest
Flying low not like all of the rest
God only knows where the strange bird goes when hes flying
Everybodys trying to find him
But they dont know where to start
The ornithologist lady says that he has wings on his heart
Chorus:
Strange bird from a different nest
Flying low not like all of the rest
If you cant catch him you cant name him
If you cant see him you cant claim him
Stay on the ground or he will shoot you down
Wings on his heart, hes a strange bird
Frequent flyer, seldom seen
High above the caribbean
In my day Ive met a few but hes the strangest bird thats true
Chorus:
Strange bird from a different nest
Flying low not like all of the rest
If you cant catch him you cant name him
If you cant see him you cant claim him
Stay on the ground or he will shoot you down
Wings on his heart, hes a strange bird
But hes in love with the lady of the waters
And she lives somewhere up around cheauxvan
Hes gonna circle high above her runway of love
Until she gives him her permission to land
Chorus:
Strange bird from a different nest
Flying low not like all of the rest
If you cant catch him you cant name him
If you cant see him you cant claim him
Stay on the ground or he will shoot you down
Wings on his heart, hes a strange bird
Watch out girl, hes a strange bird
Strange bird flying low
cross the gulf of mexico
Strange bird not like all the rest
Watch out girl hes a strange bird
Shoot you down, hes a strange bird
Its a bird, its a plane, its a strange bird
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Little Bird
(Emmylou HarrisKate McGarrigleAnna McGarrigle)
If I had a bird a little bird
I would teach that bird to sing your name
Prettiest song that you have ever heard
And your indifferent heart I will claim
So be off my little bird
Fly away, fly away
And when my love you see
Only then my little bird
Cry away, cry away and bring that heart to me
If I had a moon in the sky
I would light the world and pull the tide
And when the moon is full like my heart
It will surely pull you to my side
But in the darkest night I pine away
Pine away until your face I see
So throw your light my lovely moon
Shine away, shine away and pull his heart to me ''
If l had a wagon made of gold
Pretty painted horses numbered four
With a silver harness I would hitch them up
And drive that wagon to your door
And if my hand you choose to hold
Ride away, ride away with the pretty horses four
But darlin' if you heart's still cold
Hide away, hide away ril trouble you no more
Trouble you no more
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Name this bird
Name this bird
If you are.
If you wish
Go there.
Geography
I do not like.
History
This bird
is not feathery.
See the word
Search the bird.
The bird I saw
Above the rulrs
Above the law.
If you wish
Go and tell
But please
Do not say
The bird is in sleep
And not here to clip.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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