Mutation
Like black birds
homing in twilight, to the tree
my thoughts make a perfect landing.
I lift the silence in sleep.
A flying snake enters
a pink room.
A bullet pierces the heart.
No acolytes, I will
catch myself the drifting smell
of eternal caress. Basking
in pain I pluck up my
trail in rubble of dreams.
You defy the likeness to god
become poor like an undershirt.
and walk straight.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Birds Bring Beauty
Birds, birds everywhere
flying through the sky without a care.
Reminding us how graceful life can be
as they fly from tree to tree.
Singing so very happily.
Singing songs of love and light
flying gracefully with delight.
Landing on their claws outstretched
landing in their straw filled nests.
Feeding their offspring worms from dirt
protecting them so they don't get hurt.
Pushing them to leave the nest
so they can fly like all the rest.
Flying high and flying low
they will be like their parents on the go.
Writenn by Christina Sunrise on June 18,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Birds Live Peacefully
Birds, birds everywhere
flying through the sky without a care.
Reminding us how graceful life can be
as they fly from tree to tree.
Singing so very happily.
Singing songs of love and light
flying gracefully with delight.
Landing on their claws outstretched
landing in their straw filled nests.
Feeding their offspring worms from dirt
protecting them so they don't get hurt.
Pushing them to leave the nest
so they can fly like all the rest.
Flying high and flying low
they will be like their parents on the go.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on June 18,2012
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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June Sick Room
The birds' shrill fluting
Beats on the pink blind,
Pierces the pink blind
At whose edge fumble the sun's
Fingers till one obtrudes
And stirs the thick motes.
The room is a close box of pink warmth.
The minutes click.
A man picks across the street
With a metal-pointed stick.
Three clocks drop each twelve pennies
On the drom of noon.
The birds end.
A child's cry pricks the hush.
The wind plucks at a leaf.
The birds rebegin.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Pink Pink
pink pink
Confirmed that it was armed
pink pink
Was right to be alarmed
pink pink
Ensured that nought was harmed
pnk pink
Steady hand and mind
pink pink
Micro-chip designed
pink pink
The password was declined
pink pink
Another course to take
pink pink
Caution not to shake
pink pink
Captivity a mistake
pink pink
Beads upon the brow
pink pink
Experience the how
pink pink
No chance to turn back now
pink pink
Be certain not to slip
pink pink
One last wire to snip
pink pink
Two hearts that skip a beat
penk penk
The sound that gives a lift
penk penk
Time to collect the gift
penk penk
The robbery will be swift
poem by Chris Dawson
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Outside331’sSleep
Don’t open your eyes yet not until I explain last night I went to bed with Sleep last night I fell for Sleep last night Sleep unclothed me left me naked in a room painted black I couldn’t see Sleep because Sleep was dark too and the room was black and the foreground blended in with the background I couldn’t tell what was far and what was close I became frustrated because Sleep was either hiding inside the room or the room was hiding behind Sleep neither were being fair to my eyes who wanted to play hide and go Sleep I hide inside the room and Sleep seeks I said where are you Sleep I can’t see you my eyes can’t find you Sleep I said I wanted to fall inside you brought me into this black room and I am trying to wrap myself around you won’t you come inside of me you won’t stage scenes in my eyes created with color everything is black one long stretch Sleep are you moving and I can’t see you or are you standing still and I can’t feel you are here Sleep you are silent Sleep I feel alone Sleep I want you to be inside me if you take me to a black room and make me go to bed are your eyes open I can’t see you did you leave is Sleep here Sleep am I inside you explain Sleep explain did you open your eyes Sleep are my eyes open Sleep are you outside me Sleep you took me to bed and left me Sleep I can’t open my eyes until you are back inside me I can’t see Sleep when you’re not inside me open your eyes Sleep do you see me inside you explain last night am I still inside Sleep?
(12-13-07)
poem by Chelsea Trescott
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Passion In Winter
Skiing like birds
Free as kids
White snow and snow
Flying like air
Beautiful as cloud
Pink lips and lips
Dance like Gangnam style
Crazy as idol
Red soul and soul
Sleep like butterfly
Hot as batman
Black and black heart
Oh, this mad world
Love it, hate it
It is mine
Touch it，eat it
It is mine, mine, mine
The New Routine
dinner at six pm
blackout comes at 7
so we sleep as early as that time
and with nothing to do
we make love in the dark
and too tired
we oversleep till 5 the next morning
when electricity resumes
we sleep without air-conditioning
pre-conditioned now
to this long lasting emergency situation
i content myself to the sound of silence
some chirping birds sometimes
and crowing cocks at dawn
and screaming chickens landing
on the ground
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Colours Of Life
Sunny morning, golden noon, rose pink twilight, silver moon.
Grey black cloud, creamy sea, lightning bright, green brown tree.
Yellow with age, white with fright, red with rage, black as night.
Green with envy, rainbow hue, in the pink, sky of blue.
Countless colours running rife. These are the colours of our life.
poem by Rod Morris
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Beauty at Dusk
The room is stilled
dimmed by evening light through
shuttered blinds
A perfect evening, summer spring
treees laced with early leaves
bright fields, sunlight on windowglass
an empty room
and silence
the brightness of the dusk is
blinding - more glaring than noon in dust
and the silence splinters with shrill throated birds
and distant laughter
til the laughter and the song seem silent too
part of the peace that oppresses this room
the beauty is too perfect
too real for me
poem by Geraldine Moorkens Byrne
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Sleepy Mom
Mom is waking in a room
Her heart and soul full of gloom,
Now in the hall of the house,
Not everything is guiet as a mouse
She can't sleep silence, nor do anything with the children
She is sad and crying in sadness, silence;
The pain in her heart violent.
She is weak from walking the hell all night
Wanting to sleep in silence with all her might
She can't do anything but sleep with her children in bed,
Silence; time and time again.
Until you know what you can do and can't do,
Your children won't be safe without you
You can keep them away from the big bad wolf
You can keep a watch on them from any danger,
whether from a friend or from a stranger,
You can sleep in silence now,
Be happy and take a bow,
Protect me from the dark or from a bomb,
you have down your job.
poem by Keith Scott
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The Dove of Dacca
The freed dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings—
And the thorns have covered the city of Gaur.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Little white traitor, with woe on thy wings!
The Rajah of Dacca rode under the wall;
He set in his bosom a dove of flight—
`If she return, be sure that I fall."
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Pressed to his heart in the thick of the fight.
"Fire the palace, the fort, and the keep—
Leave to the foeman no spoil at all.
In the flame of the palace lie down and sleep
If the dove—if the dove—if the homing dove
Come, and alone, to the palace wall."
The Kings of the North they were scattered abroad—
The Rajah of Dacca he slew them all.
Hot from slaughter he stooped at the ford,
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove!
She thought of her cote on the palace-wall.
She opened her wings and she flew away—
Fluttered away beyond recall;
She came to the palace at break of day.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Flying so fast for a kingdom's fall!
The Queens of Dacca they slept in flame—
Slept in the flame of the palace old—
To save their honour from Moslem shame.
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove,
She cooed to her young where the smoke-cloud rolled!
The Rajah of Dacca rode far and fleet,
Followed as fast as a horse could fly,
He came and the palace was black at his feet;
And the dove—the dove—the homing dove,
Circled alone in the stainless sky.
So the dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings;
So the thorns covered the city of Gaur,
And Dacca was lost for a white dove's wings.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Dacca is lost from the Roll of the Kings!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Pink Room
When you get to the pink room
do not forget to leave her
a rose.
I want her to know
we have remembered the pink room,
I want her to remember me.
I dreamt of the pink room last
night, of a time when it kept me safe,
a time when it kept her safe.
The pink room is hidden from view
now, has been stripped bare of the
lilac, the silver - someone
I will never know has carelessly
splashed blue paint over my memories.
If you should go to the pink room,
you know you will see me there.
I never could leave the pink room -
remember to leave me a rose.
poem by Morney Wilson
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Pink
The Pink butterfly
looking like pink shirts,
My pink thoughts
looking like mom's skirt
My inner soul
has a pink ink
love is pink
from the cry of a baby in the sink
pink is nice
I love it to savory perfection
Pink is a man's color
I make it my selection
Pink is the star
that is iridescent
its a half moon
called a crescent
-Pink-
Christian Alexander Williams
poem by Christian Williams
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A Boy And The Snake And The Tree That Cures...
a snake is bitten by another snake
it is bleeding and leaves and looks for a tree
to take some sap
for its own cure,
a boy sees what the snake is doing
waits and when the snake leaves
the boy bites the tree
to take the sap
the boy is cured of its long sickness
the tree had long been there near him
but it is the snake that points to him
the tree that can cure his own malady.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bus Travel At Night
it is the loneliest journey
bus travel at night
the driver does not talk
to the conductor
the silence is the silence of the sleep of all the passengers
i follow the road
the signs are intact
there are only lights on the sides of the streets
the trees are black
the leaves are merely shadows
the world passes me by
in complete silence the scenes changes
and all so sudden
the world moves with me
the bus is a bullet
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sleep
The night is grey -
Deeply buried inside the faint of black -
The breeze blow with the touch of blood -
Dead beats the drum -
Of a ridden heart -
The sleep which creeps -
By the bullet which sleeps -
Barrel to my gun -
Dormant she plays during the day -
Filled the promises of a sleep -
Creep to be well away -
Sleep -
Sleep -
Sleep my beauty queen -
Sleep to the unseen -
Sleep upon the nightmare -
Sleep in between my dreams -
Succumb by sleep -
Succumb by screams -
Inside where I sleep
poem by Unic Cjonr
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I saw the sun rising slowly
I saw the sun rising slowly,
changing the hue of grey dawn
to pink, orange and orange-red
and the breath of the air outside
smelled with the odour of blooming flowers
and with the passing hours
the world came awake,
birds started to sing, flying from tree to tree
and this morning I knew
that it was the beginning of spring.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pretty Pink Rose
Shes just been to russia and theyre dying their faces
Theyre dying over there
A pretty pink rose
That rnr lady takes a space-ship ride shes out of this world
A pretty pink rose
And were living for you my love, were living for you
And were dying for you my love
Pretty pink rose
She tore down paris on the tall of thom paine
But the left wings broken the right insane
A pretty pink rose
Have a nice day, its a killer, turn a cheek
Its a christian code
A pretty pink rose
And were living for you my love, were living for you
And were dying for you my love
Pretty pink rose
Shes the poor mans gold shes the anarchist crucible
Flying in the face of the despot cannible
Shes a pretty pink rose
Never let it rain, never let it rain on the heart of the pretty pink rose
Pretty pink rose
And were living for you my love, were living for you
And were dying for you my love, pretty pink rose
Get me thru the pain, thru the pain of the thorn on the pretty pink rose
Never let it rain, never rain never rain, the pretty pink rose
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart, of the pretty pink rose
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart, of the pretty pink rose
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart,, of the pretty pink rose
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Humans Were More Like Birds
Birds bring you love and light,
they are happy to fly around you
day or night,
If human were more like birds
there would be only joyful words.
Yes, birds are happy as can be,
singing praise to Mother Earth so joyfully,
while flying from tree to tree.
How nice it would be if everyone was more
like birds so happy and carefree,
having loving thoughts and words for
each human they see.
Written 7/27/2010 & updated 12/10/2010
by Christina Sunrise
www.christinasunrise.com www.purplepoems.com
Copyright Chevalier Originals, Inc.2010-11
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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