Never let the 'Hope' die...!
Hopes are feathers, a wish is a bird
One may find this simile a little absurd
Hold on, do not lose patience
As I will explain to you the essence
Behind this there is a theory
I shall relate this with a story
Feathers, they keep the bird warm
Likewise hopes keep our wishes strong
Clip the feathers and the bird will not fly
Were it not for hope our wishes would die
My fellow beings, listen to what i have to say
Keep on hoping, what you wish for will come your way
Let your wishes, as birds, freely fly
As long as your hope, you never let die.
poem by Ravi Singh
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Ode To Emily Dickinson
hope is the
thing with feathers
to be with onself
can be as productive
as any bird in the sky
as one mind is equipped
with wings that can fly
as far as it wishes to be
give it books, it can
fly to places where the feet
cannot take and beyond
beyond the mountain
where all the knowledge
ever harvested by minds
is logged
invisible and waiting
for minds to fly into them
to take them to places
where they should be
flying in everybody's mind
hope is the thing with feathers
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Divine Bird
i would skp the best musical concert
to listen one more time to this morning bird
it makes me regret for not having been
a bird watcher and getting to know the name
of every bird and how every bird makes sure
they shine their best in voice rather than feathers
for feathers are just for a show of form but the
voice how well they have cultivated themselves
with the bountiful freedoms strewn below their wings
it was only two mornings ago, i first heard him
sing in among the many trees lining the boulevard
outside my condominium, the Crescent Court
the enchanting haunting notes of his song shocked
me into wondering whether it was really a bird that
sang those pristine notes, notes that seemed to have
streamed out of the sacred sanctum of God, so many
diverse notes, so well handled, they sounded
like a song written by the Divine for one special bird
one most holy entree to the dawn of a new day
i prayed to the Divine to allow me hear that bird
again, a bird that has sung his way into my my poem,
a bird probably from another realm where birds could
understand the workings of the heavens better than men
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Feathers!
feathers on me
again and again
first to fly and now to earth rest
enable me to get ready
and carried me through you
anywhere there are feathers
like you said!
in me in you!
a very strange and intoxicating feeling
afterwards, that you traced my body
maybe i have gasp, of some lack of air!
in high feather, full feathers
you will be writhing with ecstacy
Very pleasurable for me
I feel extremely good
you make me a path a invisible way
eagle feathers very powerful
sound bird feathers very delicate
for tight places or open places
make his sound so soft
Ah! My God! ! !
give me the name of that medicine!
Feathers on me!
Feathers on you!
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Finding feathers
I went through a stage of finding feathers
but I just thought they came from some Bird
then someone told me they come from Angels
at which I replied don't be so absurd.
I found them when I was just out walking
in the country or down the local street
they would appear from out of the Blue
and land in front of me or by my feet.
But bird's feathers are common in the outdoors
so I ignored them and didn't pick them up
but I then started to get them in strange places
like in my pocket, and once even in my favourite cup.
They seemed to appear most when I was feeling down
as if it was a sign that good times were ahead
so I would stop worrying and being miserable
and there would be a feather on my pillow on the bed.
So if you find a feather don't throw it away
or think it's from a Pigeon, or a Turtle Dove,
because you may have just received a visit
not from a Bird but someone from up above.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Mocking Bird
Dark as dungeon, rough as the sea
don't provoke my tolerance, you hardly know me...
Broken are my feathers... a bird that cannot fly
just your words are enough to make me cry.
Nestled in your own world, the feathers keep you warm
my life is a struggle.... I'm still fighting the storm
your given hand of friendship and floating views i see
Are enough to kill a mocking bird and set her free
poem by Meena Mustafa
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Flying Away?
i like to see the image of a lone bird flying away from me
two steady wings carrying a very light body of blue feathers
a kingfisher flying away against the morning sun
moving nowhere getting farther until it becomes a blue dot
dissolving in the distance that your eyes can no longer see
i sometimes like to think i am that bird flying away
from where i am
because this place is sad and cruel
i like to fly away
to leave everything behind me and then simply forget
and make new beginnings
as easy as that
sometimes however i ask myself:
where shall i go?
nowhere?
just nowhere?
where is nowhere?
just fly away and go
and leave and
then what?
i ask myself these real questions
calling for rational answers
begging
that i be reasonable enough with my life
and the life of others
who also depend
on me
it is not an easy stuff,
just flying away to nowhere and destruct
everything i build here:
a nest, an odor of familiarity,
a sense of home
(though sad and cruel)
a name for myself
a reputation
a family history
an ancestral domain
shall i go then and be foolish?
i am not a bird, i am a man
that is a very serious existence apart from those feathery wishes and dreams
with responsibilities, i have no wings just arms, i have no feathers
but this body
i am not just a bird, i have a soul
and so i decided to stay
with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bird-Magic
Where no birds breathe, bird-magic breathes
Bird-beauty, bird-spirit, bird-splendour,
And brings where no bird wings,
Wing-beats that woo me to wonder.
What do I want when a woman can warm
Bird-magic from her bosom, her womanly arms?
Her lips that are petals, her thighs that are trees,
Boughful with blossoms of softness and ease?
What is the liquid that lingers with love
In her voice? Is the music that hangs in her eyes?
The dewdrop.that dangles from finger-tip touch?
The mellifluous magic that moves me so much?
This is no bird-magic:
This is woman, who with a sweep of her hair
Sends birds bursting to wings in the air.
This is woman, whose frown
Droops dark feathers down.
This is woman; her smile, her kiss, her holding in arms,
Hold more bliss for me than bird-charms.
poem by Tan Pratonix
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I Wish I Had Been Born A Bird...[Personal; Birds; Humor]
My parents were both humans, so I am human too,
but I'd wish to be a bird, if I could be born anew.
Though I 'love' birds, you may think my wish absurd.
But more absurd wishes I'm sure you have heard.
Of course I'm not a bird and never will be.
But if I could talk to birds I could better see
if the life of a bird would really satisfy me.
Eating seeds and bugs and such, and sitting in a tree.
My bird of choice? How would I pick a winner?
Not a penguin, who has to dress for dinner.
Not an ostrich, another flightless bird.
And a strutting peacock might just be absurd.
Perhaps an eagle, soaring high above you,
or a hummingbird, acrobat of the blue.
Or perhaps a mighty swan swimming gracefully,
or a nightingale whistling a concert, free.
For certain I would not choose a caged-life,
though, uncaged, dangers for me might be rife.
I think I'd prefer fresh-kill to old road kill,
and a nest in tree rather than on window sill.
If a bird, I'd not have had to deal with military draft.
Or had others think sometimes that I am daft.
All sorts of human signs and laws I could spurn.
And there'd be no reason to file a tax return.
I'd have no need to wear or ever change diapers,
no need to get gas or change windshield wipers,
no need for lawyers or too many teachers,
no need to listen to rehashing preachers,
no need to plan for death or watch my cholesterol.
As a bird I'd just have to listen to Mother Nature's call.
(September 2009)
poem by Bri Edwards
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The bird wishes it were a cloud. The cloud wishes it were a bird.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The bird wishes it were a cloud. The cloud wishes it were a bird.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Silvia Velea
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Of Mere Being
The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.
The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A Matter Of Decision
the black bird of loneliness
hovers over the window of the house
and stops to look at
our roof
we shoo it away
there is no place here
where it can build its own nest
we still wait for the bird of bounty
the one that brings us
the eggs of grace
the feathers of happiness
it is the only bird that we welcome here
as a matter of our own decision
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When I was a Bird
I climbed up the karaka tree
Into a nest all made of leaves
But soft as feathers.
I made up a song that went on singing all by itself
And hadn't any words, but got sad at the end.
There were daisies in the grass under the tree.
I said just to try them:
"I'll bite off your heads and give them to my little
children to eat."
But they didn't believe I was a bird;
They stayed quite open.
The sky was like a blue nest with white feathers
And the sun was the mother bird keeping it warm.
That's what my song said: though it hadn't any words.
Little Brother came up the patch, wheeling his barrow.
I made my dress into wings and kept very quiet.
Then when he was quite near I said: "Sweet, sweet!"
For a moment he looked quite startled;
Then he said: "Pooh, you're not a bird; I can see
your legs."
But the daisies didn't really matter,
And Little Brother didn't really matter;
I felt just like a bird.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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I Set the Bird Free for the Skies
My wish got fulfilled
When I caught hold of a bird
I decided to cage her
Feed, play and save her
From people and vultures
Preying for her
Making the bird to live longer
I told my wish to the little bird
The little bird replied
You are a greedy man
You have taken my freedom
To fulfill ugly wishes
Now I can’t fly
See the world with my eyes
Sit and nest on trees
You want to me die in captivity
I shall love to die flying
As god destined
I felt
Lead being poured
Into my ears
Tears rolled from my eyes
I set the bird free
For the skies
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Ah, The Bird-night!
night fluttered
its wings-
a wounded bird
fallen into my lap
to be comforted
i lie awake
nursing bird-night
teary-feathers
gained strength
at the break of
a ruddy dawn
the bird will return
as night gathers, again!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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How to appreciate me
afar like a flock of birds
because when you come near
they would have flown away
tell you how you should
appreciate me
look from afar
like a birdwatcher
screening their
colourful feathery prizes
in the burstling
privacy of each other's world
the birds joining you
in praising the
wonders of nature
seeking pleasure
the lightness and
gentleness of feathers
without feeling the
trickeries of time
zen bathing in
so many hues
and shapes of green
taking the striking
plumes as an invitation
to the lanes of God
in the search for
the ultimate beauty
the chirpings
as the start of that journey
hypnotising
clear crystals
and mountain spring
a song to the
sanctum of
sacredness
of tranquility
the bird's hop
a child's inquisitive search
for memories
as they fly in
the sky of
make beliefs
and fantasies
the bird's smooth
and adorable head
filling the soft spot
in our heart of love
their crowns
a salutation to
the hands of God
and yes, just be there
watching things from afar
and be aloof
because if you come too near
the bird iwould have flown
away with all the feathers
of all my dreams
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Birds Chattering Inside Your Mouth...
the birds in your mouth
chatter, one bird has blue feathers
and it makes the sweetest song,
the white bird keeps mum over
all these caged noise,
perhaps it understands the language
of the soul,
there is a brick red sparrow
looking out the window
it is speaking in tongues
as i listen attentively and watch all these
within the fences of your face
i feel, but i have to be honest
there is nothing that i understand,
i do not wish to
i have had enough, of those blue, red,
and white birds.
but they must all agree that it is not the song
not their songs, but their
common cage, for not one of them
has uttered the nicest word in the
history of captives,
freedom.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Name this bird
Name this bird
If you are.
If you wish
Go there.
Geography
I do not like.
History
This bird
is not feathery.
See the word
Search the bird.
The bird I saw
Above the rulrs
Above the law.
If you wish
Go and tell
But please
Do not say
The bird is in sleep
And not here to clip.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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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
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A bird will always use another birds' feathers to feather its own nest.