What The Mother Sparrow Later Found Out...
under the jack fruit tree
the young sparrow's wings
are torn apart
caused by a well rounded pebble
fired from the slingshot
of the laughing
child
among his peers
he is called The Hunter...
because the young sparrow
which just alighted
from its nest
could not really fly
that high enough
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Wild Wild Party In The Loquat Tree
Out in the back by the grape stake fence
Is a place where nature makes so much sense
All the creatures livin in harmony
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Fuzzies and furries run walk or fly
Havin a feast beneath a clear blue sky
Animals comin from miles around
To bounce the branch and shake the loquat down
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Peckin at em pickin at em hidin em away
Savin em up for a rainy day
No matter how big no matter how small
Theres more than enough theres plenty for all
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Every little loquat holds the seed
For a brand-new baby loquat tree
One o these seeds may find its way
To a place in the sun and then someday
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[havin a party]
All havin a party in the loquat tree
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[in the loquat tree]
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[havin a party]
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[in the loquat tree]
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White sparrow
white sparrow you see me standing
you could kill me without landing
your wing is just as long as a man
you are as cold as a snowy day
you have come here from heaven
you must of as you fight my devil's
your feathers turn slowly black with my sin
and yet you stay beautiful as always
my sin is like a ciggerate it will turn you black inside
but you cannot die as you are one in your own
you came from heaven so your holy arent you
god sent you for me so you must do what you must do
my heart was never red nor white but black
i was born with my sin and also that of my kin
but white sparrow you have taken that from me
and now you are dying you turned black whilst i change to white
oh my lord what a sight it must be to see
a boy like me clean of all carrying a bird of sin
i am carrying you white sparrow your heart is no longer cold
and your body no longer white nor wings large
but white sparrow you will not die, no you will not
for you white sparrow you came from heaven for me
when i picked my child's name people laughed you did not
you looked at my child in his cot and nodded now you cant
for white sparrow you dont belong with me not anymore
your must leave for heaven and recover to help others
so farewell white sparrow il missy you my saviour
now go to that sin filled woman and help her
for white sparrow i will look for you as you continue
for white sparrow i will see you in heaven....goodbye
poem by Daniel Laurence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Child Of The Road
Once on a rock beside a road
I sat watching the passers by
When one among them showed
To look back with a questing eye
He was a child, not more than three
Tagging along a dog behind
But once they rounded out a tree
The two, I no longer could find
That child, I thought, could once be me
Of many roads way back in time
Hopping along a preset way
As would a scripted playful mime
Life then was Spring, without the cares
The wilds with birds we hunted down
Me and my father put up snares
All conservation was our own
But Time has rounded out a tree
The child we no longer could find
Neither were wilds, even the spree
Except what were left in my mind.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Photo Palestin
Achild in Palestin
Look here it is
Deep purple bottom of his eyes
Child
Holds slingshot with one of his hand
With his other hand shows the victory sign
A mother in Palestine
Sits by the child
Making tambour frame of pain
Hey child, hey mother
I could do nothing for you
Except taking photo
Excuse me
Forgive me
Child says he could not stop
In this body with this head
Couldnot shoot the birds
With a stone, with this slingshot
Poem: Mehmet Atilla MARAS
Translated by: Nilufer DURSUN
poem by Nilufer Dursun
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Torn Butterfly
Torn butterfly torn butterfly
Seeing you there it makes me cry
Torn butterfly your wings they tore
From the weight that they bore
Torn butterfly it's plain to see
That you are just the same as me
Torn butterfly the world is tough
Hard as stones and just as rough
Torn butterfly I know your pain
And I don't want to know it again
Torn butterfly come join me now
And we'll regain our wings somehow
Torn butterfly it's sad but true
In death our wings become brand new
Torn butterfly just fade away
And we will fly this very day
Torn butterfly this note I send
And hope that you will cause your end
So we can fly in clear blue skies
Where no one hurts and no one cries
Torn butterfly with my last breath
I ask you to come join me in death
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I A Hunter.
I a hunter of life,
I got shot by a hunter with my knife,
I a hunter of death,
A shot just broke my teeth
I a hunter of destiny,
Am afraid mine is taken,
I hunter of happiness,
am afraid mine is darkness
I a hunter of purity,
Putifying isn't my duty,
I a hunter of greatness,
I've just found am the smallest
I hunter of Love,
But am a sparrow not a dove,
and now I've got a message,
A message I, ve meant to receive
Hallow love Thank you,
my mind is holified that is you,
you have made my mind over due,
you made me think about you
SO THANK YOU
poem by Dickson Mseti
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Little Sparrow
Little sparrow
Dolly parton = little sparrow
(chorus)
Little sparrow, little sparrow,
Precious fragile little thing
Little sparrow, little sparrow
Flies so high and feels no pain.
All ye maidens heed my warning
Never trust the hearts of men
They will crush you like a sparrow
Leaving you to never mend.
They will vow to always love you
Swear no love but yours will do
Then theyll leave you for another
Break your little heart in two
Repeat chorus
If I were a little sparrow, over these mountains I would fly
I would find him, I would find him, look into his lying eyes
I would flutter all around him, on my little sparrow wings
I would ask him, I would ask him, why he left me loving him
Repeat chorus
I am not a little sparrow, I am just the broken dream
Of a cold false-hearted lover and his evil cunning scheme
Repeat chorus
All ye maidens fair and tender
Never trust the hearts of men
They will crush you, like a sparrow
Leaving you to never mend.
Little sparrow, little sparrow,
Oh my sorrow never ends.
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother Sparrow Leaves Not Carrying Anything
the mother sparrow does not
know about a funeral
how can it hold a white flower
entertain meaning
using its black, short beak?
today, her young sparrow
lies dead
shattered wings, severed feathers
the worker-ants are sensing the scent of blood
the delicacy of sparrow meat
and now carry them all toward their
queen
underground
there is no memory for mother sparrows
there is no son
the fledgling is gone, gone
then she flies far away
to another season
not carrying anything, not a seed even inside her gut
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Form Of Injustice
a tall child
is angry
picks a pebble
on his sling
and hits the
eye of the
the short
child on the
road
the eyeball explodes
blood flows
the short child
screams
the tall child
runs away
laughing loudly
he is far away now
and nowhere to
be seen
the short child keeps
on screaming
some people in the market
hear
run towards the
site
go near to ask
what happened
and then one by one
leave
to do their
respective chores
for the
ordinary day
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hands Of Time!
the hands of a small child,
shaping sand on the beach.
the flutter of wings,
a sparrow's first flight.
seeds planted by hand
in the fresh plowed ground.
the light teasing shadows,
late afternoon to night.
the war hero's silence,
his eyes grown hard.
the family burying the child,
the mother cannot weep.
the hungry stare
of poverty's stink.
the addict's hard edge,
bare rooms, bare walls.
the hanging tree,
and the lovers oak.
the bullet in the chamber,
and the open mission.
the church locked empty,
boxes to beds in the alley.
the old man who cant forgive
what the young boy did.
the hands of a small child...
the hands of time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From The Same Tree
From the same tree
there is the good fruit
there is the bad fruit....
From the same tree
the good fruit goes to the market
the bad fruit...to the soil.
From the same tree
is the reason for the lonely farmer
to wake up each morning
to see how the fruits grow well...
and is the reason for the lonely farmer
for not winning the heart of his beloved
who prefer the city life
From the same tree
there is the good fruit
there is the bad fruit.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tree And The Branch
the tree looks
upon a branch
where a ripe
fruit is hanging
the tree says
it is mine
the branch say
i am holding it
the tree says
the branch too
belongs to it
angry about the
tree's greed
the branch lets go off
the ripe fruit
a hungry child
picks it up
and goes home
with a happy heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top
The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top
Blood - blood and torn grass -
Had marked the rise of his agony -
This lone hunter.
The grey-green woods impassive
Had watched the threshing of his limbs.
A canoe with flashing paddle,
A girl with soft searching eyes,
A call: 'John!'
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Come, arise, hunter!
Can you not hear?
The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top.
poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She's Got The Jack
She gave me the Queen
She gave me the King
She was wheelin' and dealin'
Just doin' her thing
She was holdin' a pair
But I had to try
Her Deuce was wild
But my Ace was high
But how was I to know
That she'd been dealt with before
Said she'd never had a Full House
But I should have known
From the tattoo on her left leg
And the garter on her right
She'd have the card to bring me down
If she played it right
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
Poker face was her name
Poker face was her nature
Poker straight was her game
If she knew she could get you
She played 'em fast
And she played 'em hard
She could close her eyes
And feel every card
But how was I to know
That she'd been shuffled before
Said she'd never had a Royal Flush
But I should have known
That all the cards were comin'
From the bottom of the pack
And if I'd known what she was dealin' out
I'd have dealt it back
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, and who knows what else?
She's got the jack, yeah, yeah
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack,
Ooh, It was a bad deal, (Jack)
She gave me the (Jack), hey
She's got the (Jack), she's got the (Jack)
She's got the (Jack), ooh can't you tell
She's got the (Jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack)
(She's got the jack, she's got the Jack)
She's got the jack, she's got the Jack
She's got the jack, you never know!
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack
She's got the jack, and it hurts!
(She's got the jack)
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
Aaaaaah!
Oooooh!
Thank you, thank you, thank you people, thank you, thank you
I'm glad you like the show, yes, thank you very much folks.
Goodnight and God bless
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Roots, Trees, and Fruits
A tree is known by its root
The source of its first life
A fruit is known by the tree
As a man is known through strife.
The root of a man is his family
The tree is the man that has grown-
The words that he writes in poetry
Show the rearing he has known.
-
Copyright Cynthia Buhain -Baello
July 6,2009 Tarlac City Philippines
--
'No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit.
Each tree is recognized by own fruit.'
Luke 6: 43
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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The Calls of A Sunny Winter
Laughing through the calls of a sunny winter:
The sun is leaping like a pony, rambunctiously stealing away
From any gods that it ever knew
In its young life, while last night I saw the brown reservoirs
Of your body sleeping underneath the Christmas tree,
And underneath the television;
And laughing, as it held a child on the couch of the Mexican
Household- so freely as if it was ours.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top
The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top
Blood -- blood and torn grass --
Had marked the rise of his agony --
This lone hunter.
The grey-green woods impassive
Had watched the threshing of his limbs.
A canoe with flashing paddle,
A girl with soft searching eyes,
A call: "John!"
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Come, arise, hunter!
Can you not hear?
The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top.
poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sour Lemon Tree
A sour lemon tree flower attracts the bee
While its fruit is bitter not so its flower
White is its flower sweet and very pretty
Only the fruit is bitter and that's just a pity
As the beauty of its flower resist not a bee
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
With fruit that is bitter bears a lemon tree
But useful is its fruit good for everyday use
Once said a bee... your flower is very sweet
It carries fragrance scented out in the street
Yet bears you fruit bitter no one wants to eat
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
A citrus tree with fruit no other tree bears
Then out of the tree came a nice neat voice
'Twas like a voice of one who's very wise
This is what it said trees are not so free
One made a decree for every bearing tree
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
The Creator decides the fruit a tree bears
Whether it be bitter or whether it be sweet
The Creator decrees for every bearing tree
To bring forth fruit ordained for it to bear
Then sweet or bitter bears a tree its fruit
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree.
poem by Clarence Prince
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Sparrow
Who will love a little sparrow
Who's traveled far and cries for rest?
"Not I," said the Oak Tree
"I won't share my branches with no sparrow's nest
And my blanket of leaves won't warm her cold breast"
Who will love a little sparrow
And who will speak a kindly word?
"Not I," said the Swan
"The entire idea is utterly absurd
I'd be laughed at and scorned if the other swans heard."
Who will take pity in his heart
And who will feed a starving sparrow?
"Not I," said the Golden Wheat
"I would if I could but I cannot I know
I need all my grain to prosper and grow"
Who will love a little sparrow?
Will no one write her eulogy?
"I will," said the Earth
"For all I've created returns unto me
From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sparrow And The Earth-Day
flash back belongs to childhood days
sparrows the nearest neighbor
dawn to down the vermilion sun
busy we kept those abrupt flying motion
room, roof flexible floor to ocean
sometimes one but many times together many
took bath in dust now is myth
sparrow our first target to hunt
with gun never breeds bullet
sound simply as toys could make
but we would get proud to shoot at sight
since the naughty wings never gave them chance
to sit silently at a place more than moment
little sparrow the soft heart chirped random
silent noon of schoolclosed days
never got silence any noon whether sleep or not
sparrows followed us just did Sharlock Holmes
little their heart full of life, vigor kept them rest
at night the different no sparrow no other fly
now no those little wings here more
now no place surrounds here hoovering chirps
everywhere whispering different tone and tune
electro-magnet waving hello hi hankering kidding warm
what the earth did, not my matter concern
those of little wings, strongest accompanies
those of restless thousands flying saucers
nowhere...nowhere...just as we the time-eaters
processing path of extinction self we self hunter...
Pranab k c
24/04/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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