En.Citatepedia^®.ro

What The White Owl Does Besides Flapping Its Wings

The white owl flaps its wings
Deep in the night
Hovers on the trees
I think the leaves
I hear the sparrows chirping
In the morning
Some dead feathers are falling

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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226

what the white owl does besides flapping its wings

The white owl flaps its wings
Deep in the night
Hovers on the trees
I think the leaves
I hear the sparrows chirping
In the morning
Some dead feathers are falling

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chirping Birds

the morning here
is always the sound of chirping birds
because the trees
have been their homes at night
when the sun rises
the birds fly away again
and when the sun fades
they come back
to their nests
and home

the night hums the song of silence
bird's eyes closing again
to the golden sheen
of the bright moon

the white owl flaps its wings
on a nocturnal adventure
in harmony with the bats
friends of the night

some shadows lurk in the night
in the pursuit of happiness
some souls are restless
on dreams unfulfilled

some wake up dwindling at dawn
opening the fridge for a glass of cold water
switches on the computer
and begin again
anew to another poem

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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Back To Basics

the shadows of trees
against the gray skies

there is no one here
except the white storks

and some sparrows
taking their wings

i wait for the right timing
when the sun rises

some leaves are falling
so gently on the cover of grass

a caterpillar takes its bites
on the leaf

a frog jumps on the pond
some tadpoles follow

the clouds drift away
a new day is just born

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For I Too Must Leave Just Like Those Birds

the tree in the garden
has died

what we see now are
nothing but twigs without leaves

below are the heaps
of dead leaves
rotting

we have become like them
hopeless for sometime

dry and cracking
light as the wind
drifting like
the cloud

empty, hollowed by the
mourning of our arid
days

dragging nights
lifeless on a very cold wood
for a bed

one morning some yellow sparrows
with thin long black beaks
hover upon those twigs

and the dead tree even for
the moment has assumed
life

upon a borrowed hope only
for that brief moment

until then when all the sparrows
fly away again
taking with them all the songs
that you hear

you learn the tune from those
thin black and long beaks
and you must compose a song
for yourself

borrowing hope from hope
putting those leaves back
on your
imaginary trees

you must tell me
about the will to live

for i too must leave
and be a part of somewhere else

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Falling Leaves

it is not the leaves you care about
but the falling
it is not that the trees have become leafless ribs
or that the thorns and scabs have become so visible
it is not

but the falling you want to know
how does falling fall how does this falling feel
the past that pains you
the present that you do not give space
the future that you refuse to dream

i see you falling falling and falling like the leaves
that you are seeing this summer afternoon
for whom you love
they leave like birds flying away from the lonely tunnel
where you have long resided

i see you hugging the fallen leaves
feeling what falling means
treasuring the failures unnecessarily

tonight i see no stars like you seeing none in the skies
black night silent night dead night
i got this last stick of this match
i light this cigarrette i sigh i live some more

i sleep i dream i have this candle still
that tomorrow i may begin to light

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There Isn't Any Doggerel There

There isn't any doggerel there this morning
The inspiration well in me is dry
I hear the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk
And silver gulls along the foreshore cry.

And on the silky oaks house sparrows chirping
For house sparrows don't have a song to sing
And magpie lark the black and white bird whistling
His pee wee notes have a familiar ring.

And through it all the noise of passing traffic
And gas and smog pollute suburban skies
And Humankind I feel is the big loser
Where voice of Nature compete with man created noise.

Of any inspiration i feel empty
I feel burnt out from scribbling doggerel
The poets are gone to join the poets of heaven
And i am bound for the poetasters hell.

On silky oak the plain house sparrows chirping
And magpie lark is whistling pee wee
And man created noise compete with Nature
And silver gulls are calling by the sea.

poem by Francis Duggan
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One summer when the wind was strong

This is the place, now we are here again

I remember that summer when the wind was strong
And everything around us was dry,

The acacia trees towered and showered us with
Round leaves falling and falling and falling

Some birds were there and they flew away
Some cars were there and they speeded away

It was getting dark and it was a dry summer
We stayed there for a while when the leaves fell

Then we went under the trees not seeking shelter
But to catch those leaves falling and falling and falling

We are trying to feel again what falling was
We are here on this summer, we see the leaves

Falling and falling again to the dry wind,
We try to recall about us, but there is simply

Nothing about us anymore, but just the same
The leaves fall and fall and fall, we see them reenacting

There is that meaning; there it is in the falling
But we have outgrown it, we look for more, we hope

We can find some more, something beyond us.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Point Of View: II

I

In the wood of lost causes, the valley of tears,
Old hopes, like dead leaves, choke the difficult way;
Dark pinions fold dank round the soul, and it hears:
'It is night, it is night, it has never been day;
Thou hast dreamed of the day, of the rose of delight;
It was always dead leaves and the heart of the night.
Drink deep then, and rest, O thou foolish wayfarer,
For night, like a chalice, holds sleep in her hands.'

II

Then you drain the dark cup, and, half-drugged as you lie
In the arms of despair that is masked as delight,
You thrill to the rush of white wings, and you hear:
'It is day, it is day, it has never been night!
Thou hast dreamed of the night and the wood of lost leaves;
It was always noon, June, and red roses in sheaves,
Unlock the blind lids, and behold the light-bearer
Who holds, like a monstrance, the sun in his hands.'

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Tweet

He fell from the mango tree nearby
In the nest where three others lay
After the rain, their chirping cry
I heard in the morning at break of day.

A few days old they must have been
Eyes still shut, and such tiny wings
Scarcely with feathers on their skin
But they had a strong will to go on living!

I took the nest and kept it inside
Quite safe in a handy fruit basket
From my cats, the birds I tried to hide
As they heard the noisy chirping racket.

Two of the chicks failed to survive
The rains made them wet in the night
But the other two I had kept alive
Named him 'Tweet' and his brother 'Knight'.

We fed them bread crumbs in a toothpick
The chicks ate the meals, all was alright
But Knight was a bully and not so meek
Renamed him 'Joker' - oh what a sight.

Joker would pound on his brother Tweet
So I had to keep them apart
Everyday their chirping would greet
Good morning to me with all their heart.

Tweet was the only one that remained
For birds do get colds and die
He taught me lessons I had gained
Animals care, without tears they cry.

poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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The bird, which flaps its wings too much, will drop its feathers.

African proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pair Of Sparrows!

A pair of twittering sparrows I see;
What a great wonder sparrows are!
Due to constructions of concrete jungles
Sparrows are driven out farther and farther!
So, they take shelter in high way trees;
Even those trees are cut for laying highways
And the sparrows are driven out still far away!
What kind of guys are they who take shelter
Under the trees in summer time but not
Think of pouring even a dropp of water to it?
Extension of concrete jungles destroys trees
And drives away a few sparrows too forever!
Is this called progress in the modern world?
Or is this a harbinger of apocalypse of the whole?

poem by Ramesh T A
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Testify

Come a little closer it's a feeling that I can't deny
I was weak, but I never thought I'd speak about the darker side
Is that a ten? I could repent on the side of the road
But, I kept on going yeah I headed for another load
I get up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground in the middle of the night
Oh, I testify
I was laid upon the grave by a preacher's hand I cannot lie
And, I forsake many vows I made to be with you tonight
Could you be the salvation cause I never felt like this before
And, could you lend me your hand because I'm falling back on the floor
I get up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground in the middle of the night
Oh, I testify
On a road outside of nowhere, in the middle of the night
Well I guess I hit rock bottom and the dawn was not in sight
And a Tempest made of fire, onset the sky aglow
And a sweet young thing called out my name
And this is how it goes, she says...
Choir:
"Go boy, can you hear them?
Are you falling through the cracks in your eyes?"
"Go boy, can you hear them?
Are you falling through the cracks in your eyes?"
"Go boy, can you hear them?
Are you falling through the cracks in your eyes?"
Meatloaf: And I got down on my knees
Choir :"Go boy, can you hear them?
Are you falling through the cracks in your eyes?"
"Go boy, can you hear them?
Are you falling through the cracks in your eyes?"
Meatloaf (over the top of the choirs last two repititions):
I get up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground and I'm falling back down
Up from the ground and I testify
I get up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground and I'm falling back down
Up from the ground and I testify
Meatloaf & Choir:
Up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground and I'm falling back down
Up from the ground and I testify
Up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground and I'm falling back down
Up from the ground and I testify
Meatloaf:
Every cut that heals reveals a scar that you can never hope to hide
All the pain that you restrain keeps building up deep inside
If you think you're above it then it's you my friend that I implore
You've got to talk before you run
See the night before the dawn
Before you pull yourself off the floor
I get up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground in the middle of the night
Oh, I testify
Choir Singer: Up from the ground yeah, I testify
Meatloaf & Choir:
Up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground and I'm falling back down
Up from the ground and I testify
Up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground in the middle of the night
Oh, I testify
Up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground in the middle of the night
Oh, I testify
Up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground in the middle of the night
Oh, I testify

song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Altercation

when i step there
for the first time i know
the difference between
silence and
shutting up, that soundless scream
that only your ears
can hear and people wonder
what is happening inside
your tiny world
where you always live and
there is no
specific address
as the streets wind up to nowhere
the world is full of noise
and as you see you imagine people
as like you
all in the flurry of the winds
of disgust
and then i ask you to see the
light at the post
it is 6: 30 in the evening
and lights begin
to make a claim of their
own islands
amidst the crowd of
passers-by
i ask you once again
to listen to the clicking of the
watch inside your
heart
and try to erase the
imagined scream
i agree it is an evening
loveless in itself
there is only you
and no one else
for i am but a stone to you
in your garden
of sands
i urge you to listen
carefully and close your eyes
and open them
once again
searching for the red
color of the
longing
it is deep into the night
when trees are but
shadows
and the winds create
a stir of
falling leaves
those that last only
for the night
and i assure you
there is nothing
here but leaves
yes, leaves and
leaves
softly falling to the grass
carried by the
sounds of the flurry
of invisible wings
and i am telling you
it could be
hope dressed
like maple.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Autumn Leaves

Autumn leaves, in the trees
Falling to the ground
Colors of many, in the breeze
Of red and orange and brown.
Rainbow parks in the dark
Moonlight shimmers down
On the leaves, from the trees
Falling to the ground.
Lovers walk, hear them talk
To where Children played
See the beauty, and feel the warmth
From where nature stayed.
Barren trees, forgotten leaves
Another year gone by
All alone from a breeze
As the lovers softly cry.
Autumn leaves from the trees
Lying, on the ground
See the beauty, feel the warmth
And hear, autumns sound.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Early Evening When Dusk Was Falling

Early evening when dusk was falling,
my mother turned with fine fingers
through the pages of the black book
and she looked pretty and womanly
while she took our cares to the almighty Lord

and when I looked though closed eyes
it was as if a big shadow
was making the night still darker
where it was falling over the house and the whole yard,
where God was keeping watch in the night.

Early morning when it was still twilight,
I was already up, was trying to find my way
through the field near to the hillock,
to follow the white cat
to where she was hiding her new children

but could then find no sign
of God’s presence
with only the weavers, sparrows and doves
that were singing their songs of joy,
before the sun white-hot blinded me.

poem by Gert Strydom
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That Early Morning.....

this is what happened
that morning all i heard was the sound of chirping birds
haggling for a home upon those crown of trees
luscious leaves firm branches
tarring twigs

it might be an illusion since when the morning light came in profusion
upon those grounds
there is nothing

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When The Leaves Come Falling Down

I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down

song performed by by Van Morrison
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
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Tachycardia

In the chest is caged bat
who seeks escape
through the mouth.

He flaps his wings
& the molars shiver.

He flaps his wings
& the thyroid bulges
like a snake
that has swallowed
a mouse.

He flaps his wings
uttering shrill cries
heard only by the ears
of the teeth.

He wants to soar
into the great world.
He is blind
as a bat.

You must convince him
that the chest
is a cradle
& a room
with a view.

Past the tonsils
lies terror.

Past the teeth
lies death.
Past the lips
lie lies,

lies, lies.

poem by Erica Jong
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