The Caged Bird Sings
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
Walking bare feet through the warm mud,
worms of slush squeezing between toes,
spring breezes quickening the blood,
forgiving and forgetting woes.
Stretching out like a promised land,
aspiration gloriously beams.
Running through the fingers like sand,
time we had studiously planned.
The privileged heritage streams,
but a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
Freedom is but a dream perceived,
not appreciate' when in grasp.
Accolades our right when received,
the sweat of our brow and breaths rasp.
Of injustices a defender,
a tome wasting many a ream.
Respect, honor should engender,
but to enmity surrender.
Life lived to the very extreme,
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
Opportunity's there for all;
talents are bestowed on many.
Listen to the instinctive call.
Regrets? We did not hear any.
Pioneering endeavors offered,
but thru ignorance let it slide
Optimize chances proffered:
careful analysis ordered.
One wrong decision, woe betide,
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
Hamstrung by accident of birth,
but blessed with inner resolve
and an occasion for mirth:
laughter all melancholy solve.
Glimpsing freedom from oppression,
idyllic occasion rising.
His music, only obsession.
Talent, his only possession.
Much pleasure in lives it did bring,
so he opens his throat to sing.
poem by Suzette Crous
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Related quotes
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Caged Bird
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou (1994)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Flightless Bird
My world is caged in,
I can not fly away,
I can not soar in the clouds,
With the wind and the angels.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
I sit here day in and day out,
I watch so many people coming in and going out,
They stay here so happy so proud,
And they leave again without any care in the world.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
I remember each face,
I remember them all saying hi waiting for a reply of hello,
They don’t understand how it feels,
They don’t understand what it’s like.
To be a flightless bird with clipped wings.
Wings tucked and head held high I sit here,
I wear a smile on my face and I keep myself beautiful and happy,
But inside all I can see are the bars that surround me,
I can’t get past them I can only sit.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
My world is a room full of people myself the center of attention,
Although I should not complain for this is my life,
And I make them smile I make the children laugh and look in my eyes,
And sometimes they look into my eyes and see my world through my eyes.
They know I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
They’ll stand and watch me as I walk around in my cage,
They’ll be there with me and try to understand.
Then they’ll have to leave and they’ll look over their shoulders.,
And they look into my eyes one last time,
Before they fly away into the world to bring back stories for the flightless bird with clipped wings,
They are my connection to the world,
They show me what they see through their eyes,
They show me wonders and beauties of a world I’ve never seen,
They are my window to the outside,
In their mind I can be a flightless bird in a world of wonder and of flight.
I am only a small bird in a cage that sits in a hotel,
Sits and watches as the world around me fly’s by,
I wait for the occasional stranger who looks into my eyes with knowing,
Maybe a person who is like me like a flightless bird in a cage,
They are my wings, the wings of a flightless bird who’s wings are clipped.
I sit in my own world and watch as it all moves by,
Day after day I watch and I say what is expected of me,
I sit in my world and I go on my own steady journey,
A journey in which I am a silent observer,
A flightless bird with clipped wings in a world of ever changing skies.
By: Bethany Maxwell
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Poem about Poetry - Poetry's wings clipped
the bird they cage
to study its songs
becomes the cage
that melts down a
heart of freedom
the day they caged
the bird was the day
its songs went awry
poetry is the bird
that carries our freedom
song up to the sky
soaring with the clouds
shimmers in the sea
rustling with the leaves
shrilling with the crickets
hooting with the owls
birds need no teacher
to teach it sing its poem
spiders need no teacher
to teach it spin its web
the first poem
sprang from the fountain
of the human's heart
it flows a crystal clear stream
that shines with their
love, hope and dreams
the day they
started confining
poetry to the
classroom,
dissecting
it like a surgeon
was the day poetry's wings
were clipped
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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
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My Heart Is A Caged Bird
My heart is a caged bird
Legs tied by the bond of
Relationships
Wings clipped by
Responsibilities
Crying in agony
Writhing with pain
Wants to fly
In the open skies
Leave every memory
Behind
Feel the heat of sun
Cool breeze on the body
Sing freely
Like the flowing water
Cross the oceans
Conquer the Mountains
Break the shackles of
Worldly rules
Live freely thereafter
758-03-05-10-2012
Joy and sorrow
Who does not laugh?
Who does not cry?
Joy and sorrow
Are in Every body's life
Who does not hope?
Whose hope
Are always fulfilled
Who does not fear death?
Still new hope
Takes birth in the mind
Everybody keeps
On living
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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The Black Bird Winging Its Way Inward
that early morning
the door opens and you
hear the rush of steps
going out of the house
the gate opens and
closes once again
and you
find yourself enclosed
in your freedom
of thought again
transforms into a black
bird
stretching its wings
to the breasts of dawn
and then
without so much hesitation
fly away again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Flightless Bird
Slavery was the nature, caged within,
Seeing the sun rays penetrate it wonders,
Upon which strategy shall I escape this cage,
Upon which wisdom shall I,
See the sun and not the rays,
The bird with fluffy feathers did ponder,
Unto its master it cried,
Brought food but it seeked freedom,
To cage the bird was love he claimed,
To be caged, such love was hate it pondered,
Caged without hope, the flightless bird
Such freedom was vain for the bird,
That prison cell used to be a shelter,
To be loved, in a different way,
Engulfing itself in its loose wings,
Dreaming things it never saw,
Seeing life it never experienced,
Searching peace which it never had,
To rest in that moment of anguish,
The master said to cage is to love,
The bird cried to cage is to slave
My thoughts were painted all over,
Looking there, she might just cove over,
Feeling the passion when she came closer,
Will she ever set me free, in this cage I suffer
Unto to me is like a flightless bird,
Caged in vacuum I feel so bad,
To love me you ought to think instead,
To leave me you ought to think you had
The more the sky is seen,
The more the ray come unto my sight,
The more you hold the cage,
The more I desire a rescue,
Unto that day shall I wait,
To fly and see the sky and the sun
poem by Gaylord Munemo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Left My Throat Dry?
Inexcusable crime
And incurable disease
Of the last century
Left my throat dry
Without water wetted my wings
Without sickle tied my legs
I lost my peace in the din
A fish in the water without a fin.
Water can not wet my throat
The sun can not dry my wings
Untying my legs will not give me back my fins.
What is the use to be dry,
If I shan't get the shadow and the fly?
I shan't get surely the shadow from the sun
To it, it will only increase my bebt burden?
My wet wings needn't to be wide spread
As I know the hope of justice has already dead!
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Shackled By Our Own Beliefs
My soul is like a caged bird of paradise,
For I long to glide once more in open sky,
To gaze upon the face of this earth and smile,
To breathe in the very essence of all creation,
To see the beauty we all take for granted,
Yet I am incarcerated within lifes prison cell,
Like an angel who's wings have been clipped,
And in my daily life I learn to accept the shadows,
For as with us all I wear the blinkers of obedience,
Medeocrity has become the norm so I do not question,
As I watch the malevolent dance of demons I see no ill,
My dreams have faded and I merely exist within this nightmare,
Yet the voice of doubt screams loud within my soul,
I wrench at the shackles of deceit that restrain me,
For I have become aware that this life is but a lie,
We were all meant to be so very much more,
So I shall carry on hoping and dreaming,
That we may all find an end to this desperate night...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Thanking The Lord
I have to thank god every day
For all the good things he sends my way.
Even before a problem would arise
He is there by my side.
When I have a problem that is tearing me apart
I give it to his kind gentle heart.
When I am fearful of walking down
That lonely dark road
He’ll be there for my hand to hold.
Just like the poem footprints in the sand
He is there to give his hand
And when I can no longer travel the road
He is there to carry the load.
When my feet are cut and bruised
Because I no longer have any shoes
He is there to clean my feet
And cool down the burning heat.
He is there every step of the way
And I thank him every day.
He will love me no matter what I may do
And the best part is that he forgives me too.
He is a forgiving and loving god
Because he knows the human heart.
We do things that we may not think about
But, he doesn’t scold, or scream and shout.
he knows That we will make mistakes
And like a bird we will want to try our wings
And may do the unforgivable thing.
But just like a bird we will always
Go back to our nest, and from that
Point we will do our best.
poem by Louis Rams
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The Tame Bird Was In A Cage
THE tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, 'O my love, let us fly to the wood.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Come hither, let us both live in the cage.'
Says the free bird, 'Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?'
'Alas,' cries the caged bird, 'I should not know where to sit perched in the sky.'
The free bird cries, 'My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands.'
The cage bird sings, 'Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned.'
The forest bird cries, 'No, ah no! songs can never be taught.'
The cage bird says, 'Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands.'
There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, 'Come closer, my love!'
The free bird cries, 'It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Alas, my wings are powerless and dead.'
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Eva Gray
PALER, paler, day by day,
Waxeth wordless Eva Gray,
Wasting through the heart away!
How shall those who wish her well,
Lift the shadow erst that fell
Round her from Love’s darken’d spell?
Would they have her feast with Song?
Ah! its voices but prolong
Like far echoes Memory’s wrong.
Would they to beguile her leisure
Sweet reliefs in music measure?
Music dreams of foregone pleasure.
Would they lure her where the spring
Gives the unshadow’d heart to wing
Upward like a bird and sing?
Still paler, paler, day by day,
Waxeth gentle Eva Gray,—
Wasting like a cloud away.
poem by Charles Harpur
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Conversation With A Genius
Like mountains - on this brow
Laurels of praise.
'I can't sing!'
- 'You will!' - 'Sound
(Put me on a diet
of flour!)
Like milk -
Is gone from my breast.
Empty. Dry.
In full-blown spring?
I feel like a twig.'
- 'That's an old song!
Drop it, don't blabber!'
'From now on I'd better -
Pound gravel!'
- 'All the more reason to sing!'
'Am I a bullfinch,
To sing
Day in and day out?'
- 'Even if you can't,
My bird, sing!
Out of spite!'
'What if I can't
put two lines together?'
-'When could - anyone?!' -
'It's torture!' - 'Bear it!'
'A mown meadow -
My throat!' 'Then wheeze:
That's a sound, too!'
'It's lions' business
Not women's.' - 'Children's:
Though disembowelled -
Orpheus still sang!'
'So, even in the grave?'
- 'Under a headstone, too.'
'I can't sing!'
- 'Sing about that!
poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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Birds and the Above
What is their grade, who sing to the above?
Their legs can not carry their bodies,
For they are inferior, they are inferior.
Legs are too much for those who walk,
Yet the hands are meaning too much.
You are superior, and you are amazing -
It is a man who walks and talks that inspires,
Yet feeble people do not seem wrong
To the caring ones, the ones who care.
Care must be given to you,
As the hospital will fetch you
If hands and feet are allowed.
As you are like a bird,
Birds are like you, for you fly.
With wings you are not,
But hands and feet.
You walk and yet fly,
Yet wings are not feet
For the birds.
What is their grade, who sing to the above?
poem by Naveed Akram
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To Hear Her Sing
To hear her sing--to hear her sing--
It is to hear the birds of Spring
In dewy groves on blooming sprays
Pour out their blithest roundelays.
It is to hear the robin trill
At morning, or the whip-poor-will
At dusk, when stars are blossoming--
To hear her sing--to hear her sing!
To hear her sing--it is to hear
The laugh of childhood ringing clear
In woody path or grassy lane
Our feet may never fare again.
Faint, far away as Memory dwells,
It is to hear the village bells
At twilight, as the truant hears
Them, hastening home, with smiles and tears.
Such joy it is to hear her sing,
We fall in love with everything--
The simple things of every day
Grow lovelier than words can say.
The idle brooks that purl across
The gleaming pebbles and the moss,
We love no less than classic streams--
The Rhines and Arnos of our dreams.
To hear her sing--with folded eyes,
It is, beneath Venetian skies,
To hear the gondoliers' refrain,
Or troubadours of sunny Spain.--
To hear the bulbul's voice that shook
The throat that trilled for Lalla Rookh:
What wonder we in homage bring
Our hearts to her--to hear her sing!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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This Distance
this distance is killing me
and you confirm it
for it too is killing you and
we mean
that there is something going between us
distance kills but let me have some
bird-lips lots of birds-lips with wings
flying towards you
tonight in our mutual dreams
wet with rain
petals still dewy
warm fingers
and saucy lips
this distance cannot kill us now.
entwined in our dreams
i'll burst like a very ripe plum
to the ground
your mouth opens and catches me
and then
inside that dream you swallow me
whole
digest me
and i become some kind of a sap
running like red corpuscles
all over you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Right The Wrong
An indian woman buried her grampa in the black hills
When she was young he used to tell her
That these hills belonged to her still
And even though injustice took them hills away
One day well get them back, he said
And the suns gonna shine that day
When we say, right the wrong
Before she laid him down to rest
She heard his voice in the wilderness
Sayin I got six feet of it back
And now we can right the wrong
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Before long u wont hear nothin but the crackle of flames
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Would u rather die knowing that u did or keep living in shame
Did you hear the one about the boy just 17
Three years hard time for stealing ice cream
First offence and all his dreams are gone
How long before they right the wrong?
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Before long u wont hear nothin but the crackle of flames
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Would u rather die knowing that u did or keep living in shame
Right the wrong
2, 3, uh
1, 2, 1-2, come on
(right the wrong baby)
Far be it from me to say
It seem like we could stop the flow of snow in the sky today
But I guess the weather man he likes the rain
Aint that insane
Now sing
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Before long u wont hear nothin but the crackle of flames
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Would u rather die knowing that u did or keep living in shame?
(come on, come on, come on)
Did you hear me baby?
Right the wrong
Im 6 feet in the grave
Im 6 feet in the grave
(right right, right right)
(right the wrong right the wrong)
(right the wrong right the wrong)
Right the wrong (right the wrong right the wrong)
(right the wrong right the wrong)
(right the wrong right the wrong)
(right the wrong right the wrong)
Right the wrong (right the wrong right the wrong)
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust (right the wrong right the wrong)
This young man with a talented soul (right the wrong right the wrong)
Died when he wanted 2. (right the wrong right the wrong)
The [life/light]that lives (right the wrong right the wrong)
So he shall not be pitied
Nor shall the guity be forgiven
Until they find it in their hearts to
Right the wrong
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom's Bond
It's your dream come true
You are free, free to be, free to breathe
Free to see, what do you see?
What do you be?
Freedom's price, bondage's ice
You have a dream?
Chase it till it becomes your reality
Spread your wings
Soar around the rings
Of Saturn's infinity
How do you feel?
Do your wings feel weak?
Or do you feel like one of the gods of the Greeks?
One day at a time you took
One feet at a time you looked
Six feet, six inches above all
Success, the greatness before the fall
It's lonely at the top I heard
How many eagles shave your beard?
It's your dream come true
Does pride blind you or bonds you as his bride
Till all the lowly bound you chide
And your glorious tears you hide
And your darkest fears in you confide
Can anyone else come through?
Reach you, teach you, feel you? ...
Free you?
You.
Bound for the skies.
Bound.
Free for the stars.
Freedom. Greatness. Success. Freedom.
Do the winds fade your wings?
Do you just dream of sitting
Do you just wish for a sound.
Sound.
The chickens call it laughter.
How does it feel?
Happy ever after
Or take me before after?
You were great before anyone screamed your name
You were great before the fame
You were great, before the game
Six feet at a time, six under in no time
The hurricane washed that beach
And those two people away
One day at a time, each day is a dream come true
No matter what happens in it
One day at a time
One day and no time
No time and no you
Free your mind and be you
For in no time, there will be no you.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Singing Birds Are Endangered Species!
Singing bird's songs
enjoyed,
wonderful melody, wonderful words,
Rhapsodical Sometimes,
More often romantic!
A power hungry,
another powerful
both listen a while,
They want the bird to sing for them!
Now the bird has to stop singing,
Or should think of flying far away!
Power hungry will kill
or powerful will,
Singing bird ability of throat
Is its own enemy,
Two hands are ready to squeeze,
Two blades ready to cut,
Singing bird's throat often
squeezed,
Several died,
not even found in history,
they fear even that bird's story!
For it sings only truth,
Singing birds throat is cut,
Because it can't keep its mouth shut!
Poor bird! Its talent,
gifted voice became
its own enemy,
Not even they are listed
Though singing birds are endangered species!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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