the clipped macaw
to the trees she caws
this whole morning
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Counting Crows
They langour
Among the powered lines
Anticipating
Anxiously
Their next meal
Roadkill
The captain, some three odd pounds
With a butcher blade beak and
Onyx feathers
Caws and bellows his commands
Swoops
First dibs on a crushed rabbit
Fills his belly
Caws twice again
Satisfied
Leftovers are for his troops
The captain returns to his post
Surveys the asphalt
For his platoons next meal
poem by Matt Mondschein
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His Lock Of Hair
I looked at him and thought to myself
I must keep a lock of his hair.
So I clipped it while he was asleep
for there would soon be none to spare.
I remember when I saw him first
his hair was what caught my sight,
so full and wavy catching the light
as dark as a moonless night.
I would run my fingers through it
and see a smile on his face.
I would watch and see him groom it.
Not a strand was out of place.
Little by little it was not as full
and the treasure I would see
was slowly leaving as days went by
and I knew eventually
that his beautiful crown of glory
would become a thing of the past.
And so the lock of hair I clipped
was saved so it would last.
For now that his hair has fallen away.
I show him the lock I did save.
He smiles again as he's done before
as he finishes his morning shave.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The morning trees
THE MORNING TREES
The morning trees,
The morning light-
Another day,
Another life.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Madraykin
(K.J.Garside)
Let not your hold be so tight,
She'll return in the morning,
If you give her the night.
Madraykin is she suffering?
Is she suffering?
Madraykin is she suffering?
Revealing her birthmark you cast out her eye,
Clipped are the wings of the angels sighs,
Revealing her birthmark you put out her tongue,
Clipped are the wings of the fairies who run.
Madraykin is she suffering?
Is she suffering?
Madraykin is she suffering?
How deep does she weep in your well of unkeep,
The kiss of Madraykin will keep you from sleep.
Keep you from sleep,
Keep you from sleep,
Keep you from sleep,
Keep you from sleep.
song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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The Poem I have Written For So Long
THE POEM I HAVE WRITTEN FOR SO LONG
The poem I have written for so long
The simple lines –
Is not good enough.
Still the morning light on the trees
Is 'The morning light on the trees'
I cannot say it more specifically more precisely more beautifully-
Time will tell
I am already old
No one knows
Goodbye is goodbye-
The morning light is still on the trees.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Stewards of Destruction
The bird was routed from its nest
by the growl of a tractor’s roar.
Slash and burn, closer it came,
a tank in Mankind’s war.
The macaw soon was homeless
as its tree was knocked to earth.
Slash and burn, some peasants came
And hacked for all their worth
Elsewhere too, the Forest bears
brute evidence of man.
Slash and burn, the trees are gone
Crops planted there by hand.
Some miracle medicinals
Are forever lost down there
Slash and burn, fates’ wheel turns
Homo “sapiens” doesn’t care.
The habitats are dying
Their inhabitants are too.
Slash and burn, will man cause
his own extinction too?
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Julie Claire
Oh Julie Claire was very fair,
Yet generous as well,
And many a lad of metal had
A saucy tale to tell
Of sultry squeeze beneath the trees
Or hugging in the hay . . .
Of love her share had Julie Claire
When life was lush and gay.
And then the village wealth to pillage
Came the Teuton horde;
The haughty Huns with mighty guns
And clattering of sword.
And Julie Claire had honey hair
With eyes of soft azure,
So she became the favoured flame
Of the Kommandatur.
But when at last the plague was past,
The bloody war well won,
We clipped the locks of every dox
Who dallied with the Hun.
Each wench with scorn was duly shorn;
Our Marie the shears would weld,
And Julie's head with ringlets shed
Was like a turnip peeled.
But of these days of wanton ways
No more the village talks,
For Julie Claire has wed the Maire
Who clipped her golden locks . . .
Nay, do not try to me I
Must suffer for my sins,
For all agree the Marie must be
The father of her twins.
poem by Robert William Service
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Father
Father, blessed father,
Its morning again.
I give you, father, myself, father,
Continue your plan.
I know together we can climb mountains in the sky.
No one can stop us when Im standing by your side.
Troubles knocking here again;
Ill tell him jesus has me by his hand.
Hell walk me through.
Father, loving father,
Create in me
A pure love, father, your love, father,
Instill it in me.
I remember the nights Ive cried for you;
Now I only have to die for you;
Thank you, lord, youve made it clear just for me.
I see the light;
Its burning out the night.
Oh, father,
Its morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reflections-4
1 Morning ocean
Grey clouds, yawning waves
Orange sky, foaming folds, caws
Azure down water
2 Evening Ocean
Yellow orange dusk
Birding tides, breezing amber
Farther peer silver
3 Moonlit Ocean
Sheening moon wavy
Musing sky starry.Best done
Moon fed ocean feasts
4 Nighted Ocean
Aghast, asuraas...
Blackened dark, streched mouth, craving
Sky..gone to fetch sun
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Raven's Shadow
Seabird, elemental sprite,
Moulded of the sun and spray-
Raven, dreary flake of night
Drifting in the eye of day-
What in common have ye two,
Meeting 'twixt the blue and blue?
Thou to eastward carriest
The keen savour of the foam,-
Thou dost bear unto the west
Fragrance from thy woody home,
Where perchance a house is thine
Odorous of the oozy pine.
Eastward thee thy proper cares,
Things of mighty moment, call;
Thee to westward thine affairs
Summon, weighty matters all:
I, where land and sea contest,
Watch you eastward, watch you west,
Till, in snares of fancy caught,
Mystically changed ye seem,
And the bird becomes a thought,
And the thought becomes a dream,
And the dream, outspread on high,
Lords it o'er the abject sky.
Surely I have known before
Phantoms of the shapes ye be-
Haunters of another shore
'Leaguered by another sea.
There my wanderings night and morn
Reconcile me to the bourn.
There the bird of happy wings
Wafts the ocean-news I crave;
Rumours of an isle he brings
Gemlike on the golden wave:
But the baleful beak and plume
Scatter immelodious gloom.
Though the flow'rs be faultless made,
Perfectly to live and die-
Though the bright clouds bloom and fade
Flow'rlike 'midst a meadowy sky-
Where this raven roams forlorn
Veins of midnight flaw the morn.
He not less will croak and croak
As he ever caws and caws,
Till the starry dance he broke,
Till the sphery pæan pause,
And the universal chime
Falter out of tune and time.
Coils the labyrinthine sea
Duteous to the lunar will,
But some discord stealthily
Vexes the world-ditty still,
And the bird that caws and caws
Clasps creation with his claws.
poem by William Watson
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I Am Free I Choose The Peace And Quiet Around Me
i am free. i rest below the light of stars.
i look for the peace of the things around me.
trees that do not move, waters on the pond that are still,
birds resting on the nests with their wings clipped in sleep
i wait for nothing. i do not think about taxing things.
and when despair comes to meet me i simply move
and take refuge in other places where there are no obstructions
to the peace and quiet that i decide to choose.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nip This In the Bud and Split
Let's take a 'trip' over the border.
And spread our wings quick,
With unlimited ease.
To fly above what others believe...
To soar,
And reach.
And...
Let's take a 'trip' over the border.
And spread our wings quick,
With unlimited ease.
To fly above what others believe...
To soar,
And reach.
You and I out of hiding can be free.
To get rid of any darkness...
Holding onto us to suppress.
And...
You and I can slip from a safety net.
That has us boxed in perceiving,
All our needs will be met,
If a trusted faith we leave...
Behind us!
Clipped and sitting and afraid to take risks.
Ready to give up.
Ready to quit.
Clipped and sitting and afraid to take risks.
Ready to give up.
Ready to quit.
Clipped and sitting and afraid to take risks.
Ready to give up.
Ready to quit.
No one who trys to fly is bored!
Let's take a 'trip' over the border.
And spread our wings quick,
With unlimited ease.
To fly above what others believe...
To soar,
And reach.
Clipped and sitting and afraid to take risks.
Ready to give up.
Ready to quit.
Nip this in the bud and split.
Get up and...
Nip this in the bud and split.
Get up and...
Nip this in the bud and split.
Get up and...
Nip this in the bud.
Nip this in the bud.
Nip this in the bud and split.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Clipped And Greased
What a surprise!
I am shocked to see you here.
I had heard rumors you were soaring,
High and above the clouds.
Which I thought was...
Highly unlikely.
But...
Rumors are what they are.
'Well...
Someone clipped and greased 'my' wings.'
That's an impossibility.
I thought those wings were yours?
And you grew them independently.
'Since you see me,
I may as well confess.
Those wings were not mine.
And when I took them off to get some rest,
I awakened to find them clipped and greased.'
Oh my.
So what are you going to do now?
'I'll have to find someone else,
To convince I only wish to borrow their wings,
Just to test.'
Don't look at me.
I grew these myself.
It took me years to do it too.
And besides,
I sleep with mine on.
You've 'borrowed' enough from me as it is.
And I've told you this before...
Turkeys are meant to soar!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In January In Duhallow
The cold winds of January from the north east does blow
And the weather is cold quite cold enough for to snow
And the hungry birds silent on the naked hedgerow
In the flat and rushy fields where the Blackwater flow.
January in Duhallow from here far away
In the chill of the morning the frost bound fields gray
In the farmyard sheds cattle bellow for silage or hay
Where the sun seldom shines on a January day.
The distinctive harsh caws of the silver backed crow
In the Season where grass does refuse for to grow
And few cars on the roadway that leads to the town
Near where the river flows bank high in flood waters of brown.
In January in Duhallow the old fields looking bare
With the harsh chill of Winter in the cold Morning air
And at least eight long weeks till the first breath of Spring
When Nature will bloom and her wild birds will sing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Among the Trees
I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for the one my heart calls for
I wonder lost among the trees
I see your light amongst the dark
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is brighter then the rest
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is out of my reach
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light comes closer
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is bright like an angel from the sky
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light fades away and leaves me alone
I wonder lost among the trees
Without a hand to guide the way
I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for my guiding light
I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost, alone
I wonder afraid of the world
Around me I look for the one
I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost and alone forever...................................
poem by kelly Martini
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The Rain Is Like A Man
the rain this early morning
has an accompanying wind
i look at them by the window
my inner world divided by a thick glass
the trees are swaying and some leaves
begin to fall like some kind of a dance
the rain like a man carries the wind
on his arms and the wind leans down
i catch a glimpse of how they passionately kiss
it is sad and lonely and then the rain stops
the morning sun comes and the leaves
are at the feet of the trees kind of wet with tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
Morning And Evening
The morning comes, the trees are in life
As they sway to the body of song such as wind;
Leafless everywhere, the season is fun,
Dangerous is this state of affairs.
The evening rests in peace as the sun is a star
Of strength and happiness, the full action
Of our job and profession, always in time.
The whole business of the week is done,
As the leaves of the trees wend their way down.
The brothers of the winds are like sisters
As their fairness is exceptional
Much too much, and farther it travels
And further the time unwinds.
The morning is again in action
After the nocturnal suffering of a night
In action, the thoughts of the day are upon us.
poem by Naveed Akram
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X4
must we imagine
a place away from what our hands
have long held as home?
must we still dream of those
islands
with white sands and
exotic rainbow birds?
the feet have rooted and
our bodies are old trees
the fruits are teeming
and ripe for harvest
the migrating birds are
here to be catered
happiness flows here
like springs without winters
everything here is the
fun of summer times
on domestic dreams
sleep have i,
clipped wings, bubble
world
here is this chosen
earthly eternity
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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