Early Morning Symphony
silence is a
blank sheet of paper
the notes come from
the birds
this early morning
i hear the most beautiful
song, a choir of birds
chirping, winds gently
blowing, hushes from
leaves, drums from my
footsteps, beatings of
my heart
whistles from my soul.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Abstraction Fo The Word Chirp....
i hear birds chirping
early morning
on those trees
clouds arrive, light
spreads,
green becomes too green
in the fields of
life,
i hear birds chirping
sweet to my ear
i give it priority
abstract. delet morning
move out clouds from the picture
double click green fields
focus on life
delet birds
add volume to chirping
it is all chirping now
just chirping
chirping chirping
the essence of chirp.
i have abstracted it from
everything else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning Time
Wind was blowing through the trees
I could hear the rustling of their leaves
The morning sun sneaking through the clouds
Birds singing morning sounds
For i love this time i say
Morning of a new day
I wonder what the day has in store
In the distance i hear the waves crashing the shore
For it is morning time and all is a buzz
From the depths of the oceans
To the skies above
Good morning morning i always say
My your a beautiful day
Maybe you might rain today
Your still beautiful anyway
The sombre breeze that blows around
The birds singing
As i spread my blanket on the ground
So i lay here looking into the sky
Motionless waiting and watching the world pass me by
A few drops of rain speckle my face
I would not give up being here for any place
Industrialization
an early morning treat
to the chirping sounds of the birds
the engines arrive in the form of the bus
the tractors and the caterpillars
the birds fly away carrying their songs
the chirping sounds fade
the buzz of the day is in the machine
paving, drilling, cementing, screaming.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Misty River
This morning
Me in this Misty River
All the happiness
I am feeling inside myself
Misty River
The mist is coming
From this Misty River
There are clouds
In the sky
And the mist
Is caused by the condensation
Of the heat mixed in the cold water
Misty River
I am in a fishing boat
That boat is moving slowly in this
Misty river
It is early in the morning
I am eating my breakfast in the fishing boat in the middle of this
Misty River
I hear the birds singing early in the morning
In this Misty River
There must be trees because the sound of the birds is coming from the Branches
Misty River
So peaceful
It looks so different with the mist
No one is around but me
With my fishing boat
And the beautiful sound of the birds
It is so nice
To have a place to come to
Where I can
Hear the sound of the birds
And be left alone
With no one disturbing me
Misty River
This is my special place
And by afternoon
No clouds I will see
The birds are beautiful
Their song is just beautiful like mother nature intended it to be
If nobody else appreciates this Misty River
I do
Misty River
I will die for you
Misty River
I will shed my tears for you
I have been coming here for so long now
Misty River
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Serenity
Surrounded by nature,
I listen to nothingness
its silence is its beauty
I listen as it plays in harmony
to the sounds of chirping birds
and flowing waters.
A cool breeze blowing gently through the tress
rustling leaves.
Then out of nowhere, voices,
Voices of Angels
They start to hum and sing
20080126©
poem by scarlette Phoenix
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My Dream Regarding The Two Beautiful Birds
i
how do you get to
hit two beautiful birds
with a single
stone?
ii
or how to make these two
beautiful birds to get to stay
beside my window sill?
iii
how do i make these two beautiful birds
happier?
shall i make a bird house on a tree
beside my house
and give them grains every morning of the day?
iv
how do i make this dream about two beautiful birds
into a reality? they keep on chirping inside my mind
wanting to be given the realistic form of wings
like some eyebrows
wings flapping just above my eyes
the mountains my cheeks
my mind the skies
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
Blank Sheet Of Paper
I'm just a blank sheet of paper
This fool's about to write you a letter
To tell you that he's sorry
For the way he did you wrong
To ask for forgiveness
For leaving you alone
He's been looking down at me seems like forever
he takes the top on and off his pen
It's like he can't decide
Just what he wants to say
If he'd just tell the truth
I'd be on my way
Chorus
But he just stares at me
And i just stare at him
He don't know where to start
To say he doesn't want it to end
And now it's one hour later (four hours later)
I am still a blank sheet of paper
Sunlight is shining through the curtains
He's almost asleep pen in hand
There's a tear in his eye
That refuses to fall
If it would land on me
That would say it all
Repeat Chorus
And he just stares at me
And i just stare at him
He don't know where to start
To say he wants it back again
And now one broken heart later
I am still a Blank sheet of paper
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Through the branch net [Prin a ramurilor mreajă]
Through the branch net, all along,
One can hear a charming song
Fondling all the ears that lie
By the linden old and high...
Through the leaves, when dies the day,
Tries the moon to make its way,
It's so beautiful and bright
And sheds down its gleams of light.
Start the trumpets to sound soon;
As the disk of the sweet moon
Passes over glades and trees,
Trumpet notes flow with much ease.
The green woods will answer then
And my soul gets lost again,
Grieved, but also filled with grace,
When I think of your nice face.
And the birds will sing above
Showing all their care and love,
Chirping in the woods and thus
Laughing at or... pitying us.
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Morning Song
this is the song of
the pillow and the blanket
when you splash them
in the air and then
you fold the blanket
and put it on top
of each other and you
set them gently aside
this is the song of the
yellow green venetian blinds
when you pull the strings up
and you let in the light
this is the song of the doors
and the windows when you
unlock the knobs and open
them to let all the sounds of the
day enter your house
this is the whistle that comes
out from your throat when
you shape your lips like
a pout where good thoughts
are let in and then the notes
begin to fly like some birds
on a clear early morning sky
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Is amazing
Amazing is the life given…
Like (fajr) prayer early in the morning…
Breaking the light in the sky just before sunrise…
Amazing is life given…
To hear the whispering of the winds…
After an emotional play…ha! , ha! …
Amazing is life given…
To hear the voice of a child being born…
Or birds chirping in a group by the pond…
Or at the corner street post…
Amazing is life given…
When you witness the blooming…
Of a planted seed…indeed…
Take heed…life is amazing…
Amazing is life given…
When your queen smiles at you…
Just to be smiling…
Or the woman next door offers you…
Early morning coffee…
Out of the blue…she offers you….
Amazing is life given…
Because the giver of life is(AMAZING) …
As is the woman who is created for all…
Of mankind…rewind your soul…
Love the amazement which is woman…
Share…in her respect…
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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Set them free..They will multiply..
Watching the birds is real fun,
no need dime, only the time,
colorful birds to colored birds,
chirping birds to singing birds,
flying birds to walking birds,
cunning birds to love birds,
Watching birds is just a lesson,
making mind to have a vision.
collect the twigs to make the nest,
one by one, they think the best,
choose the right tree,
just high and free,
Making the nest perfect,
without any single defect,
The birds toil together or alone,
all day long until it is done.
I bought two love birds,
that were kept in a cage.
Hung the cage under the balcony,
above the reach of dogs not felony.
chirping disturbed their sleep,
Nikko, the dog set them free.
Only two flew away,
but I have a few dozens now,
making their nests,
right in front of me, on the trees.
Watching the birds is real fun,
no need dime, only the time.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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A Certain Preference On Early Mornings...
sometimes forgive me
but i do not like to hear bird chirping by my window
on early mornings for honestly i prefer
the silent sounds of the wind
from the sea,
and so when i hear those chirping birds
perching on the tree
those still feeding their fledgelings
i exercise that right of having to close my
glass windows
preferring once again
the privacy of my room and the exclusion of the
outside world
by the curtains and then i begin to sip my coffee
reading a poem
listening to the words seeping like rain to the
hair of my own soul.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Nickname....
on early dawn
while you are writing those letters
(still on the grip of tradition
emails are impersonal and lack
the sentimentality of distance
and the grace of the
strokes and
tendrils)
you hear those chirping birds
cocks crowing
sounds of the streets being swept
and occasional hushes of the wind
from the sea
your letters sound as though
they are anticipating the birth of the world
on the seventh day
when the Lord said he finally rested
at the end you say what they always write
Sincerely yours,
your nickname.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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The Rose Upon My Balcony
The rose upon my balcony the morning air perfuming,
Was leafless all the winter time and pining for the spring;
You ask me why her breath is sweet, and why her cheek is blooming,
It is because the sun is out and birds begin to sing.
The nightingale, whose melody is through the greenwood ringing,
Was silent when the boughs were bare and winds were blowing keen:
And if, Mamma, you ask of me the reason of his singing,
It is because the sun is out and all the leaves are green.
Thus each performs his part, Mamma; the birds have found their voices,
The blowing rose a flush, Mamma, her bonny cheek to dye;
And there's sunshine in my heart, Mamma, which wakens and rejoices,
And so I sing and blush, Mamma, and that's the reason why.
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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How I Love The Quiet
How I love the quiet
The early morning streets
With few people and fewer cars
The sounds of the wind and the birds
Which do not need to be heard-
The sound of my own voice singing alone its morning song-
How I love the quiet
Of the early morning
And how in my old age
I just enjoy walking along
And singing a song to myself
Into the surrounding silence.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Its Morning
Its morning
Sun rising
Moon hiding
Birds chirping
Flowers blooming
Eyes opening
Many waking
Many sleeping
Dew on the leaves
Evaporating
Bees humming
Church bell ringing
Silence going
Noise increasing
Life keeps moving
Like ever before
Night or morning
Same story again
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Summer's Here
The crackling of the fire,
The howl of the wind against my window,
The chirping birds in the night sky,
Makes me smile, happily,
But the death of the fire,
The wind just softly blowing,
And the silence of the birds in the night sky,
Makes me sad,
Because, winter is ending and summer is beginning.
poem by Sophie Shaw
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Winter
Autumn leaves blow around
slowly Winter creeps on forward
bringing an icy chill to the air.
Frost in the morning carpets the fields
above the Blue skies change to Grey
darkness moves on in early.
As winds whistle a song in the trees
below Squirrels squabble with birds over food
Snowdrops pop their heads out of the earth.
This is Winter the cold season
the prelude to Spring
to some harsh and bleak
others very beautiful.
poem by Kevin Halls
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