Villanelle: Blackbird
The freakish cawing from the blackbird’s bill,
In autumn after other birds had fled,
Impaled the air and signaled winter’s chill.
I stood and listened, savoring the thrill
And wondered why the superstitious dread
The freakish cawing from the blackbird’s bill.
Perhaps they’d better reckoned why the shrill,
Outspoken, charcoal guardian of the dead
Impaled the air and signaled winter’s chill.
A witness of the seasons, it could fill
A tome or tomb with woe: I heard, instead,
The freakish cawing from the blackbird’s bill.
The raven’s kin, it played the brazen shill
And, morbid incantations having plead,
Impaled the air and signaled winter’s chill.
But as I yearn to hear the robin’s trill,
I think of when, now comforted in bed,
The freakish cawing from the blackbird’s bill
Impaled the air and signaled winter’s chill.
poem by Richard St. Clair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Blackbird Metaphor
the Beatles had it
as the struggle for freedom of the blacks
that blackbird singing in the dark
wanting to be free
the Americans
had that blackbird swirling in Vietnam
that chopper that saved lives
that war that caused them humiliation
in the world's opinion
that lie of Nixon
Steven Wallace had eight ways of seeing
that blackbird
Noah sent that blackbird
that did not come back since it was happy
picking on the rotten flesh
of the remains of the dead
the ninth way
of seeing
disobedience
One writes again about the blackbird
that lives singing the songs of neurosis
in his mind
at winter time
The poet commits suicide
His colleagues bury him
with eulogies and ' what ifs'
One sleeps with a blackbird
The other sings with a blackbird
Someone flew away with a blackbird
and did not come back
since then
So many stories
So many poems are written
Now i have to write about this blackbird too
But there shall be no disturbance
No unhappy ending
I swear to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Winter chill
Winter chill is here
It is getting near
All those christams days
Are different ways
Winter chill will soon go
Everyone is low
Its time to say goodbye
And make spirits high
Winter chill has finally gone, spring is near
When winter chill has gone everyone give a cheer
In spring its hot and sunny
I'll see you there chummy
poem by Hannah Law
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Vespers
O blackbird, what a boy you are!
How you do go it!
Blowing your bugle to that one sweet star -
How you do blow it!
And does she hear you, blackbird boy, so far?
or is it wasted breath?
'good Lord! she is so bright
To-night!'
The blackbird saith.
poem by Thomas Edward Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Winter Season
Winter season has arrived
All that has survived
Is once again at risk
Everyone is in brisk
Attempt to keep hot
At every spot
All creatures are still
Birds is keeping closed its bill
Weather is chill
Ready to kill
With icy hands
In many lands
Always be careful
The weather is cool
Media have already told
Be ready to beat the cold
It is winter season
Protect from cold for a reason
Keep yourself warm
To avoid any harm
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The timetable of four
The golden glows of sunlight hit me
The smell of freshly cut grass reached me
The sight of freedom exhilarated me
The sounds of birds intrigued me
The beauty around me radiated from everything
The long open stretches of grass
The shady woodlands going on and on
The unending number of livening creatures
The cawing raven in the tree branches
The worm busily digging in the soil
The fish swimming idly in the pond
The child playing happily in the park
It is summer now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Autumn
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are playing in the heaps of leaves
The leaves have all gone a golden colour
The ravens are searching for bugs in the leaves
The fish are swimming slower in their pond
It is Autumn now but it will soon change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Winter
I’ll still be in my tree
There are no children playing
There are no leaves on the trees
The ravens have all gone south
There are no fish in the pond
It is Winter now but it will soon change
It will soon change
It will soon change into spring
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are starting to come back
The ravens are backing cawing in the trees
There is new fish in the pond
There are new buds on the trees
It is Spring now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Summer
I’ll still be in my tree
Waiting
Watching
Writing
Thinking
The Little Black Bird: A Poem For The Other Woman
the little black bird
goes home in a cave
just below her belly
between
her legs
it sings about love
that she always kills
for nothing
before midnight the
blackbird flies
seeking the warmth
of other blackbirds
it is cold and
dying
in her keeping
now she sings alone
like a blackbird
cursing
the trees and the flowers
she wants to disown the
blackbird
in exchange for the
earthworm
she likes it that way
wriggling
without any feet at all
pointed and
penetrating
the curse continues
it can never be hers
and the blackbird
keeps coming back
mocking her like
an old man
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Talking To Winter
'Merry Winter' winter said,
'May you be happpy by chill, '
I replied 'why thanks you alas,
This breeze is refreshing and shrill.'
Then winter said,
'My snow has to come, though it's late..'
I then replied in a pleasured voice,
'My Winter friend, it's really worth the wait.
For you can never desert us,
Coming every year, better late than never, '
Winter than calmly says,
'You're right, I have come forever.
Every December, Jan or Feb,
Turning up even in April I will,
To turn your faces warm with smiles,
So that you can feel the chill.
My soft cushions lay on the ground,
Snow, as I think you decide it's named.'
'Yes, that's its name' I replied nicely,
'That's what keeps Winter spirit, enflamed.
It's nice to know you Winter,
You bring happiness as well as a change,
You give us a shiny moon,
And coldness in a great range.'
'Thank you' replied Winter,
'Your comment has made me feel nice,
Like for once I feel warm,
My chilliness needs some spice.'
'Haha' I replied politely,
'I'd better stock up on heat,
Spice to winter sounds chilly,
Like giving coldness a beat.
Well thank you, what a nice talk, '
I said in a merry tone,
Winter replied 'well thank you as well,
Atleast this winter, I'm not alone.
Pleasurable talk, gets things open,
I hope we talk much more,
Maybe invite some friends?
I've got Autumn, Spring and Summer in store.
Lovely talk.' I replied 'same, lovely...'
poem by Viraj Bhanshaly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Autumn Becomes Winter
Autumn is becoming Winter,
And as it does everything dies.
Autumn is a slow decay in warm colours,
And Winter is grey and absent.
Some of the redy-brown leaves sit on the trees,
Yet the cold chill sings a song
That could only be the Winter.
It is scarf weather now.
I turn my collar up against the cold and damp.
The Sun has stopped shining all day,
Now we see it for a few hours a day
And then we are entombed in darkness.
You could run to catch up with the Sun,
But you’d never make it.
Be left like ship smoke on the horizon,
Just a spot in the distance.
You cannot escape the Winter.
Autumn is becoming Winter,
And as it does everything dies.
poem by Charlie F. Kane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As Winter raged
Winter was at war.
Her subterfuge:
Crumble grey-white flakes upon the scene.
The air, dead;
Dead too, the sound –
Blunted by the whitewash.
Motion, dead –
Bluing chill saw to that.
Everything ground to a halt –
Like an empty train, crawling, seizing;
Eventually to die sprawled along a ghosted platform –
A lifeless plain of concrete.
I still had far to go –
Or so this brain computed
– Tried to –
Inside my own raging storm of white noise,
Howling in its desperation.
Now wild, blitz-wild,
I bore an irrepressible thought –
A goal, focus, idée fixe:
To clasp a frosted hand around
A radiant mug of sugar-laden
Calorie-heavy
Full-fat milk chocolate –
Steam wraiths writhing over
A freshly-spooned whirlpool,
Sultry in their invitation:
‘Come, sip, sip some more;
Soothe yourself in balmy richness.’
I still had far to go…
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
winter winter winter
winter winter winter raged
winter winter winter winter winter winter raged
winter winter winter winter winter winter winter raged
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Chill Pill
Everybody needs to take a chill pill
there's so much love to fill
everybody needs to take a chill pill
let these wounds heal
everybody needs to take a chill pill
Let it be your will
dry all this blood we spill
everybody needs to take a chill pill
find in your heart not to kill
everybody needs to take a chill pill
Think how the world would feel
everybody needs to take a chill pill
think of it as being real
everybody needs to take a chill pill
take your guns and kneel
You won't have to steal
while you watch your tire's peel
everybody needs to take a chill pill
nothing here is that big of a deal
if only it was so surreal
little bird on the windowsill
everybody needs to take a chill pill
(spiritwind-2009)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
And beholds freakish laughter …
And beholds freakish laughter …
Hasty rhythm and creative scope,
But it is possible to appear in emptiness,
And prank disappears at once,
And the soul freezes in a cold …
But, he laughs loudly from is far, _
The deceptive visual field is dismissed...
She quickens from attracting
And beholds freakish laughter …
poem by Gioom Galen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bye Bye Blackbird
Fletcher henderson, dixon
Pack up all my cares and woe, here I go, singing low,
Bye-bye blackbird.
Where somebody waits for me, sugars sweet, so is she,
Bye-bye blackbird.
No one here can love and understand me.
Oh -- what hard-luck stories they all hand me.
Make my bed and light the light
Ill arrive late tonight,
Blackbird, bye-bye.
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Winter Pond
Sting-chill of winter matt –
Her frozen hand caressed us all;
And calming bleach of silence
Pressed upon the rustic scape
To leave an ashen underbelly –
Once raging summer chroma.
Even Winter’s gelid lungs laboured
Under heavy drag of flakes –
Their pilgrimage: to stay a deadened floor
In crunch-white peace.
And round about, the weight of time
– Collapsing under Winter’s drag –
Transmutes to grey: it’s three o’clock –
No lights pricking black out here! –
Even the night globe,
The Great Reflector – stonewalled;
Camouflaged by lead-laden cloud
Lolling in the claustrophobic noon.
At ground, a farm pond –
Seized in a dark hiatus –
Offered up repentance –
Why, it dared to harbour life!
I forgave it in my desperate gaze
Upon the crazy-paving surface,
That sealed in the black-chill temperature,
Where at bottom, something nithered
Still survived.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
win ter winter
winter winter winter
winter winter winter winter winter
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: XCIV
A YEAR AGO
A year ago I too was proud of May,
I too delighted in the blackbird's song.
When the sun shone my soul made holiday.
When the rain fell I felt it as a wrong.
Then for me too the world was fresh and young.
Oh what a miracle each bluebell was!
How my heart leaped in union with my tongue,
When first I lit upon a stag's horn moss!
--A year ago! Alas, one Summer's fire,
One autumn's chill, one Winter's discontent,
And now one Spring of joy and hope deferred
Have brought me to this pass of undesire
That I behold May's veil of beauty rent
And stand unmoved by sun and flower and bird.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Wrong House
I went into a house, and it wasn't a house,
It has big steps and a great big hall;
But it hasn't got a garden,
A garden,
A garden,
It isn't like a house at all.
I went into a house, and it wasn't a house,
It has a big garden and great high wall;
But it hasn't got a may-tree,
A may-tree,
A may-tree,
It isn't like a house at all.
I went into a house, and it wasn't a house -
Slow white petals from the may-tree fall;
But it hasn't got a blackbird,
A blackbird,
A blackbird,
It isn't like a house at all.
I went into a house, and I thought it was a house,
I could hear from the may-tree the blackbird call…
But nobody listened to it,
Nobody
Liked it,
Nobody wanted it at all.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
0051 The Blackbird of Truth
Waiting for the train, listening
to the blackbird singing
across the railway line
I whistled a musical game with it
of call and response,
variations, show-off riffs;
the blackbird listened,
held its head a little to one side,
crisply hopped onto the iron rail
and I thought myself mighty clever
as we played our musical game, and
it flew across the line, a few yards nearer,
swiftly, with clear intention
onto the platform two yards from me
and the whole world turned on me
as I realised I had no idea
whether it was playing at
blackbird makes friends with man
or whether it was planning
a swift dart at this rival’s eyes
and I felt humble, stupid, ashamed, and yes scared,
to have intruded in this blackbird’s life;
stopped whistling, turned away
and pretended it was just a game,
knowing now
it wasn’t.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Morning In Late June
In the cold depths of Winter the grey butcherbird sing
And only nine weeks or thereabouts till the first breath of Spring
Five days ago of daylight hours the year's shortest day
And time it keeps ticking and ticking away.
The drake in the pond performs his courtship display
As he swims by his mate he nods his head her way
And he quacks to tell others she belongs to me
He will be the father of her family.
The buds on the camellias beginning to sprout
In the coldest of Winter their blooms will be out
They will be cloaked in flowers by the end of July
When the chill winds of Winter blow across the sky.
A morning in late June a chill in the breeze
And the rainbow lorikeets chirp on the flowering gum trees
As with their tongues they sip nectar from the pink gum flowers
Amongst leaves rather wet from recent heavy showers.
The sky clouded over and a chill in the wind
And the first month of Winter is close to an end
And old father time he keeps ticking away
And Spring is approaching with each passing day.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Blackbird's Song
The blackbird's song it takes me far away
To northern Land and to a distant day
His kin birds sang all day until sundown
In leafy groves just out of Millstreet Town.
A blackbird piping on a blackwood tree
Awake the nostalgic memories in me
Again I walk the lush green fields in Spring
And hear the wild birds on the hedgerows sing.
Bluebells bloom by the hedge by the bohreen
And cock pheasant often heard though seldom seen
In the knee high rushes clap his wings and crow
By their calls and songs the birds you get to know.
The distance from the home fields may be long
But whenever the migrant hear the blackbird's song
He or she will see the lushness brought by rain
And walk through fields where wild flowers bloom again.
To it the blackbird's song has a nostalgic ring
It takes the migrant to a distant Spring
And though far distant the Homeland near 'twould seem
And the dipper's song is echoing in the stream.
I thought this thing nostalgia I'd outgrown
But the blackbird's song it carries me back home
And I walk the high fields where I walked before
Up to the hill through the wood at Claramore
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Autumn Sing
Here’s the autumn sing…
A symphony from its falling leaf…
Catching the wind from a future winter…
Rolling through a shy light…
Oh autumn shall not die in winter…
As a promise summer will surely come….
Ah autumn is a second spring…
Not all could see, all leaf is flower….
Autumn warn a terrible winter phase….
No one listen, No one will hear it…
As it is only the sound of silence….
Who can hold an indefinite sound...?
No one embrace the autumn….
As it is only a sad phase…
It gives nothing but an autumn chill….
Spring always comes with a better glory…
Oh autumn with its broken feather…
Could other season patch it up again?
No other season will devote their being….
Autumn suffers alone….
Autumns leaf keep on falling…
Spring comes cheerfully…
Summer comes strongly….
Winter always comes coldly…..
But autumn changes its face every time….
No one knows the differences….
Just the secret of the nature…
Why can’t it’d be a spring?
Why can’t it’d be summer?
Why can’t it’d be winter?
Ah autumn dance again between all the falling leaf…
It enjoys its sadness…
It embraces its pain….
As only from autumn all painter learn…
How to capture a true hidden beauty…
All speaks the same in every season….
But autumn remain different…..
For autumn is an alone singer…
Only a genuinely soul painter could witness its beauty….
That’s all the autumn need….
A silence audience....
Who can make other being see….
A glance of its beauty...
poem by Eva Clara Harahap
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!