white out
a flock of sparrows
out for fun
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Related quotes
I am only a sparrow amongst a great flock of sparrows.
quote by Evita Peron
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A flock of sparrows
A flock of sparrows
Are eating food particles
From muddy roadside
poem by Asif Andalib
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Tree Sparrows
Than their cousins house sparrows they are far more shy
The moment they see you into bushes or trees they do fly
They do look attractive when seen in the sunlight
Though in colouration from the house sparrows the difference does seem slight.
Tree sparrows are birds one doesn't see every day
From human dwellings from their cousins they live further away
For insects and seeds they search on the ground
And in Winter in flocks their numbers abound.
Like house sparrows chirpers they too cannot sing
But than house sparrows more wary of humans which is a good thing
They seem rather restless when humans are near
One might say of them their's is a healthy fear.
In grassy places near bushes and trees them I often do see
But they fly into cover when they notice me
Their cousins compared to them seem rather tame
Tree sparrows for them is an often used name.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Pair Of Sparrows!
A pair of twittering sparrows I see;
What a great wonder sparrows are!
Due to constructions of concrete jungles
Sparrows are driven out farther and farther!
So, they take shelter in high way trees;
Even those trees are cut for laying highways
And the sparrows are driven out still far away!
What kind of guys are they who take shelter
Under the trees in summer time but not
Think of pouring even a dropp of water to it?
Extension of concrete jungles destroys trees
And drives away a few sparrows too forever!
Is this called progress in the modern world?
Or is this a harbinger of apocalypse of the whole?
poem by Ramesh T A
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A pair of Sparrows on my lovely Lemon Tree
Those were the days
So joyous and carefree
When I could watch the preening of
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
Summer days were so short, winters were so long
And for endless hours one could go on a kite flying spree
When I could watch, hopping here and there
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
Enjoying tender sunshine in winter is a past
And chapattis from an earthen hearth a history
When I could watch, assembling of a nest by
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
What seemed to be mundane at that time
Life in my backyard so ordinary
Bliss it is in hindsight, chirping of
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
I still sometimes motivate myself
To get off the treadmill and shake the shackles free
But can’t anymore find in my back yard
That pair of sparrows and that lovely lemon tree
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree..
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree.......
30 July 09
poem by Ravi Singh
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Sparrows too go unspared
We gallop in development
Minding not what we leave behind
We vow to protect environment
We observe World Environment Day
We launch Project Tigers
We pledge to ensure survival of wild life
All these go to indicate
That our activities are going to have
Negative impact on other living systems
We have come to talk about sparrows now
And celebrate, nay we should observe,
World Sparrows Day on 20 March
These tiny brisk little ones
Are nice to watch
And they nowhere compete with you
As their share on our resources
Is negligible
We did not even spare them
An earlier report says
These cute ones
Have practically vanished
From cities
Where it is ensured that
Everyone is in a communication network
Through tall microwave towers
Erected over all possible locations
These communicating waves
Are fine for men and women
But threaten the very existence of sparrows
We feel now that we need to protect them
But how can we do that
With those towers emanating
Dangerous life-threatening microwaves
That have telling effect
On the survival of sparrows
If we are really serious about sparrows
Either these communication networks
Are to be disbanded
Or a separate micro-wave-free
Sparrows' world is to be created
We really need to re-examine
Our ways of communication
If we seriously long to hear
The chirps of Sparrows again
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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What turned the Germans Back
WHAT turned the German myriads back
From Paris whither they had won?
The sword dropped from their hold grown slack;
Children of Attila the Hun,
Like Attila, went backward driven
By a young shepherdess of Heaven.
A shepherdess is Genevieve,
And though her flock should wander light,
This shepherdess is quick to save
The black, the speckled and the white.
She takes her golden crook and goes
And deals destruction to its foes.
She who turned Attila back, so slim,
A shepherdess that keeps the flock,
Waited as once she did for him,
Slight as a reed or her own crook;
'Turn back in God's Name!' They went back.
The tide is stemmed for her sweet sake.
White Genevieve upon her hill
Prays, and the German hosts retreat.
She plucks the Robes of Heaven still
That Heaven give victory for defeat;
And keeps her motley flock in sight,
The black, the speckled and the white.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Existences
Fenced carabaos of this Agricultural college Thrive on limited spread of grass Man-made They look forward To angles and rows of green hills and valley And clear flowing creeks To the other side The white herons, (wild ducks, sparrows, and mayas)
Fly above trees and (daffodils) And land on paddies with flecks Of surface mud fishes and tadpoles and mosquito larvae
I see The sparrows rest In flocks Lining up On electric cables Or Power Lines Watching army Worms and golden shells (kuhol) etching slowly, eating green greedily On rice and grass stalks
An owl hovers (the late owl, where was it last night?) On the island of twigs On an old mango tree (balding & ugly & dying)
No wonder The white herons (about twenty in all, I counted them patiently on digital cam) taunt The carabaos (muddy and thin as grasses were cut and cleaned by ROTC cadettes on Sundays, I can’t rationalize why the grass population be reduced) fenced On a limited supply of Manmade grass and Growth controlled
They wing finally when I got near them Lightly like blown leaves
This February wind And land on Carabaos’ backs Gleaning for lice Feasting on some pecking and swallowing & pecking again
Thriving on carabaos’ Hairs and skin some creatures though still
On the other side of the landscape A thin brown, woman With a buri hat And a rattan basket on one hand and a sack on the other Leans over A dry ricefield Gleaning for leftovers of palay
Beside her but not that really near The man drives the white herons Away to the other side of the island of banana trunks
Then he goes to the carabaos Their wet noses tied to an abaca roof and tied again to the cemented posts of this accredited agricultural college spreading about two hectares of stupidity
The questions about lice and herons and carabaos and grasses
And golden snails, tadpoles and mud fishes and sparrows died
The lice are free Feeding away from The eating white herons
They have flown away since then to the other side of my world
By now the flock of Sparrows On the electric cables or power lines Wing their way To a farther town as I leave them fast for lack of time for shortness of serendipity for lack of interest
There are pebbles inside my shoes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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226
what the white owl does besides flapping its wings
The white owl flaps its wings
Deep in the night
Hovers on the trees
I think the leaves
I hear the sparrows chirping
In the morning
Some dead feathers are falling
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Whiteness Within Me.
The whiteness within…me
Yesterday I saw an albino raven
it had just killed a sparrow and
had drops of blood on its chest.
Having had the privilege to be
white you would think it would
desist from killing sparrows.
But I must be wrong perhaps it
was an angel dressed as cardinal
they wear red and eat meat.
Or was it was a dove of peace
wearing a ruby necklace, or had
it been hurt by an Israeli sniper?
Perhaps it was a white cloud
I saw drifting along on blue
being lit up by a red eyed sun.
A white feather, cowardice is
pale as cold snow, so why does
a peace dove has to be white?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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M a t u r a t i o n...
Pearl white, ash black infant sparrows;
staring at empty olde bottles of merlot,
mesmerised, by their hued rufescence,
blind to the myriad nuances harboring.
Fly not nestlings, still dwarfed you'll be
on midnight jaunts with crows stalking.
Soon you'll sense how natures cradling
bares pulse- superseding Mother-Love.
Untie these nurture threads, break free,
matriarchial completion, now it 's time-
to take wings....into the southern winds,
sparrows live to fly the southern winds.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Prince Of The Sparrows
He was a Prince of the sparrows
Spreading his wings e'er so proud
Dauntless in his flight-yes daring...
At his best, when high in the clouds;
Functioning, yes indeed, functioning-
Far surpassing the Cardinals O' Spring-
He was a Prince of the sparrows
Such sweet Psalms, he would sing;
Climbing, climbing into the heavens...
Soaring into the Firmaments rest-
Yes, he was a Prince of sparrows
At last, he has found, his longed for NEST! ! ! !
December 31,2011
By, Theodora Onken
poem by Theodora Onken
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A Sense Of Home.....
the chickens in the backyard
are feeding themselves freely
on the corn grits
the hen are checking her chicks
and enfolds all of them with her wings
under the mango tree
the roosters roost up the tree
settling upon a big branch
it is getting dark and a flock of sparrows
arrive and stop to take their own place
on the coconut palms
they're all home now, and then
the silence begins to hover too inside the room.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Likeness
When I came forth this morn I saw
Quite twenty cloudlets in the air;
And then I saw a flock of sheep,
Which told me how these clouds came there.
That flock of sheep, on that green grass,
Well might it lie so still and proud!
Its likeness had been drawn in heaven,
On a blue sky, in silvery cloud.
I gazed me up, I gazed me down,
And swore, though good the likeness was,
'Twas a long way from justice done
To such white wool, such sparkling grass.
poem by William Henry Davies
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There Isn't Any Doggerel There
There isn't any doggerel there this morning
The inspiration well in me is dry
I hear the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk
And silver gulls along the foreshore cry.
And on the silky oaks house sparrows chirping
For house sparrows don't have a song to sing
And magpie lark the black and white bird whistling
His pee wee notes have a familiar ring.
And through it all the noise of passing traffic
And gas and smog pollute suburban skies
And Humankind I feel is the big loser
Where voice of Nature compete with man created noise.
Of any inspiration i feel empty
I feel burnt out from scribbling doggerel
The poets are gone to join the poets of heaven
And i am bound for the poetasters hell.
On silky oak the plain house sparrows chirping
And magpie lark is whistling pee wee
And man created noise compete with Nature
And silver gulls are calling by the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Letting The Youth Be
youth passes by my window
i am on the second floor
and there are so many of them
some do not wear clothes at all
since it is summer
a girl sits under the shade of a tree
a boy comes with flowers on his hand
another one jumps to the sea
and takes out every cover of his body
another girl follows
do not put malice in what they are doing
in this village, they are still innocent of our sins
you watch them like a flock of sparrows
bathing under the rain
shaking their bodies to remove water
and drying them all again under the watchful sun
i watch these all, and mind you, to be honest
i do not envy them at all
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Surroundings-27
Missing Sparrows
One day I felt-'where are they? '
They are not seen these days
Days in chain so long wait
Wait in pain for sparrows none
poem by Indira Renganathan
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What The White Owl Does Besides Flapping Its Wings
The white owl flaps its wings
Deep in the night
Hovers on the trees
I think the leaves
I hear the sparrows chirping
In the morning
Some dead feathers are falling
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Two Sparrows
on the corner of the ventilator sits
two sparrows
sits as if two kids
two sparrows
sreek sreek sreek
the old clock strikes
Tik Tik Tik
poem by Mohammad Jahoorul Islam
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Spread Like Lilies
come little sparrows
hop about all freely
under my laid tables
daily feast upon crumbs
of this our heavenly
daily bread spread like lilies
of God’s harvest fields
sparrows do not spin or weave
freely feast enjoy stay believe.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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