morning fog...
warm dew drops on my face –
bird droppings
haiku by Chandrashekar A Posy Poet
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This Morning Bird
This morning bird likes to sing
She likes to hear the morning bells ring
This morning bell is nice and clear to me
This morning bird shows no sympathy
This morning bird is very calm
But not calm enough when it
Comes to cruelty and bombs
So be careful and be calm to this morning bird
Because her sounds are the best things u ever heard
poem by Va Rockeya Foy
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Restrictions for migratory birds
I hear they make barbed wire fences and invisible meshes
Over the tourist Liberty islands sky.
Because they spend millions for cleaning bird droppings.
Not only that,
They are scared of bird songs too
As their politicians cannot sing as same as birds.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Trinckle, Drops
TRICKLE, drops! my blue veins leaving!
O drops of me! trickle, slow drops,
Candid, from me falling--drip, bleeding drops,
From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd,
From my face--from my forehead and lips,
From my breast--from within where I was conceal'd--press forth, red
drops--confession drops;
Stain every page--stain every song I sing, every word I say, bloody
drops;
Let them know your scarlet heat--let them glisten;
Saturate them with yourself, all ashamed and wet;
Glow upon all I have written, or shall write, bleeding drops; 10
Let it all be seen in your light, blushing drops.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Jeff stibe
His hug feels like a warm summer day,
His smile brighteneds up every ones day,
As if the sun could,
On a summer morning i wake up to hear him singing,
As if a bird would on a warm summer morning,
The times we laughed together,
are the memories I try so hard to keep alive,
I sit outside to feel the wind run past my ears,
As if you are trying to talk to me,
My emotions tiptoe in,
I feel a tear trickle down the side of my face,
As if the summer day is turning grey,
It was your time to move on,
And for the season of summer the time has come too,
Knowing that your gone makes me week inside,
I know now that life is too short,
But i will see you in time,
In my place between where the angels fly and and the world that i live in
poem by Ashley Guess
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Dew Drops
Outranged's the meadow's faraway,
where sky sheds winter's first cold drops,
the lyre of winds in bogs will play,
nocturnal dance and moon's ballet,
the shelter sheds will ring sky drops,
silence responds - her voice atop,
the blooms in mists salute and sway,
tis where she felt her tears' dew drops.
Commendable the feast expands,
in time the dancers reach the fair,
rain drops will fall on green dewed grass,
musicians' violins and trumps,
her siren's voice responds with flair,
night solitude's bird singers stare,
in mists salute the wraiths who pass,
as rain drops dew her face and flare.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Drops Of Fire
As she sits in so much pain
My one true love is hurt again
Unable to help her in anyway
As drops of fire burn her precious face
As my one true love hurts ever so much
I die inside as all I can do is watch
All I can do is know in loving pain
That drops of fire burn her beautiful face
How horrible it is to know her pain
Having to watch her suffer as I sit here in shame
Ss my poor true love endures this again
These drops of fire burned her adorable face
Knowing that my true love is in so much pain
I am ever so greatly tempted to jump up and run to her aid
But I know I cannot do that for my legs are lame
But my heart and mind are with her forever made
Even though the drops of fire burn her irresistible face
When I see my true love in just a few hours
I will do my best to dry these showers
And take away all of her burning pain
As these horrid drops of fire burn her magnificent face
I know not what to do, what to say
As my love is in that state of pain
Yet I know I will use all my power, all my face
All my love and all my space
To make my true love happy again
As those dreaded drops fire burned her perfect face
poem by Alex Fischer
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A Little Reflection
early this morning just
when the sun is rising
i sit on a reclining chair
in the garden
i see the sun rising
and its rays reaching
my skin
warm as a caressing
hand of my beloved
i close my eyes
and see the calm
inside my heart
how beautiful
how warm
i sit under the sun
and hear a bird singing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An October Dream
Awaking from an October dream
To watch clouds roll over rooftops
While my love lays sleeping beside me
The quiet stillness of the morning air
The whisper of birdsong beyond the window
A scene set to be remembered
Damp cotton wool clouds faintly grey
A whistle of a bird singing somewhere
Still, still she sleeps safely dreaming
A soft light across her face
The awaking passion of a heart
Set free into a morning sky
How fair, how beautiful this feeling
To warm the soul with little ease
Who cares for the dream awoken from
When a day begins like this
A morning picture remembered
When waking from an October dream
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A Bird of Ploy
In a meadow serene
Appears a sight seldom seen
A bird and a cat
Stand back to back
Take ten paces
Then stop and turn their faces
The bird suddenly draws a gun
The cat in panic leaves on the run
The bird laughing drops the 'toy'
For it was merely a clever ploy
Giving the bird space to fly
Rather than stand, fight... and surely die!
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Pigeons
Pigeons land on statues
as though they do not care
about the figure they've landed on.
They only know that where they are
is better than on the ground.
For the sight they see is grander
as they look around.
Statues with the droppings
also do not care.
They stand in silent memory,
usually in a square.
They do not see the droppings.
They're unaffected by the stare
of people unaware
of anything but the pigeoins
that have landed there.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Poem on the Wall
My clumsy poem on the inn-wall none cared to see.
With bird-droppings and moss's growth the letters were blotched away.
There came a guest with heart so full, that though a page to the Throne,
He did not grudge with his broidered coat to wipe off the dust, and read.
The blue sky in my home
The blue sky in my home
Good morning, bird
Good morning, sun
The blue sky in my home
I miss in my every day
For my clothes wet
To be dry
Good morning, bird
Good morning, sun
I miss you singing in the morning
When the sun rising
I miss you singing in the morning
When my mom cooking
The blue sky the singing bird the sun rising
Before I leaving
Praying to raise up my dreaming
Kadilangu, feb/03/2oo8
poem by Khoirun Niam
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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
To a Sleeping Child
Lips, lips, open!
Up comes a little bird that lives inside
Up comes a little bird, and peeps, and out he flies.
All the day he sits inside, and sometimes he sings,
Up he comes, and out he goes at night to spread his wings.
Little bird, little bird, whither will you go?
Round about the world, while nobody can know.
Little bird, little bird, whither do you flee?
Far away around the world, while nobody can see.
Little bird, little bird, how long will you roam?
All round the world and around again home;
Round the round world, and back through the air,
When the morning comes, the little bird is there.
Back comes the little bird and looks and in he flies,
Up wakes the little boy, and opens both his eyes.
Sleep, sleep, little boy, little bird’s away,
Little bird will come again, by the peep of day;
Sleep, little boy, the little bird must go
Round about the world, while nobody can know.
Sleep, sleep sound, little bird goes round,
Round and round he goes; sleep, sleep sound.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Morning Summer
AS I sit there dreaming of the morning sunshine
heart beating with the teardrops on my face
I never know as you walk away that morning
silent of the moment and my soul remember dim
Everything was dard that morning,
Never had the love of that summer
and my wait cried in the sunshine morning sky.
Watched the bird flied in sky,
to the soft hope for growth again.
But in my heart I hear the love song
as I admit my dream
that keeps me beating, over and again.
poem by Natasa Tocuc
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I want to be warm so freaking bad
I want to be warm so freaking bad
While the big winter freeze sets in
All this condensation and precipitation
With little perspiration and evaporation
Everywhere I go
There are blankets of white snow
I am indoors having phone conversations
With minus freezing temperature
The cold affects every living creature
This is the cold side of nature
When little drops of water have an adventure
I want to be warm so freaking bad
That's why I can not get out of bed
In houses hide the mass populations
While the nation is in depression
Faced with buses and train cancellations
Right now I face hibernation
When I open my doors
The cold wind blows hardcore
It bites into my bones
And I retreat back home alone
I want to be warm so freaking bad
That's why my heating is constantly on
I want to be warm so freaking bad
That's why I have so many clothes on
Because every time I open my windows
I don't need a pair of binoculars
To see that walking on thin ice
Is not a comforting struggle
I want to be warm so freaking bad
And I know my thoughts are not all that mad
I want to be warm so freaking bad
While the big winter freeze sets in so bad
poem by Sylvia Chidi (2010)
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The Eggs Of The Blue Bird On The Nest
the blue bird
takes care of its nest
all the white eggs
warm beneath its feathers
all those nights
and even cold days
and then when the eggs hatch
the fledgelings
prematurely spread their wings
fall off from the branch
where the nest hangs
on the following morning
you see the ants feasting on their flesh
ah! the blue bird sings again
readies itself for the rain
it escapes away from its sorrows
and flies away...far, far away
far, far away....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dew Drops Mist
Whatever it is that you've been told...
As the dew drops mist,
Each morning that unfolds...
Mother Nature to this is committed.
To all things that exist.
And even you and I...
We are caught up the mix.
Whatever the season that comes to leave,
We may have our differences and do not agree.
But,
Nonstop Mother Nature shows...
Everything that lives,
She assists its growth.
And you and I can do what we like.
In between the fussing, cussing and fights.
You and I can decide to hide or be seen...
But mother Nature is there!
And always on the ecene.
It doesn't matter if we chit chat or scatter.
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
It doesn't matter if we scatter without chatter.
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
And,
We can be a little rich or poor.
Or never answer a knock on our doors.
It doesn't matter if we chit chat or scatter.
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
Whatever the season that comes to leave,
We may have our differences and do not agree.
But,
Nonstop Mother Nature shows...
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
Every morning when you're yawning and it's dawn,
On this existence the dew drops mist.
It doesn't matter in your life what's going on,
'Cause...
In this existence the dew drops mist.
Whatever it is that you've been told...
As the dew drops mist,
Each morning that unfolds...
Mother Nature to this is committed.
To all things that exist.
And even you and I...
We are caught up the mix.
So,
Every morning when you're yawning and it's dawn,
On this existence the dew drops mist.
It doesn't matter in your life what's going on,
'Cause...
In this existence the dew drops mist.
Whatever the season that comes to leave,
We may have our differences and do not agree.
But,
Nonstop Mother Nature shows it and knows...
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
Whatever the season that comes to leave,
We may have our differences and do not agree.
But,
Nonstop Mother Nature shows it and knows...
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Good Morning Self
i wake up
checking my navel.
i face the mirror
to see my eyes
blinking
a face blinking
i am happy to note
that i am not bound
anymore
to that which
obsessed me last night
oversleeping over
a naked body inside my mind
this morning
as i open the window of my room
i see a black bird
rushing like a stone thrown
into a white sky
a stone with the wings
of the wind
good morning self
goodbye
persistent lust
before i forget
i got a new mask
an office man
with a very serious face
no jokes
just benign remarks
about today's
winning politician
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Keep me warm
A winter day will sometimes bring me the
flu, but I always wait on the blazing sun that
rises every now and then in winter season,
warm sunshine, warm you are, every morning
you bring your life, your lucent light warm up my
fingers, my face my body, sometimes my nose I
can't feel, but you indulge my face and warm my
cold days, your risen in winter season is like
seen you giving birth to life, winter, winter wont
give me the blues, nor make my days gloomy,
there will always be you cheerful and bright,
my mornings you bring the gift of sunlit, a glint
of sunshine can make me feel blessed,
unalterable you are, sovereign, enigmatic
and brilliant to all beings.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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