Tag: bird

Old roses and their thorns

Could  any be more frenemial then a rose

For as we reach to sniff its fragrant scent

It digs its thorns into  our hands and clothes

And tetanus is a menace where we’re rent.

And yet this flower is   judged to be the queen,

As fragrantly it opens in the sun.

And for a while, we enjoy what we’re seeing

Until its time and purposes are done.

May it be so for people whom we know?

The more they grace, more the harm  that’s done.

Attracted by a sweet and charming glow

Our heart  is torn and we then  beauty  shun .

And yet we would not banish flowers like these.

The pain is offset by the ways they please.

PS I invented the word frenemial based on the word frenemy which I posted on yesterday

The owl can see with wide and narrow view

The owl can see with wide and narrow view
Focuses that poets and artists knew.
The broad sweep on the canvas makes a place
Where details and designs can have their space.

What God endowed the owl with such excess;
And all her progeny to enjoy bliss?
Is evolution but a narrow miss?
What  exquisite accident  made this?

Eagles,hawks and owls must kill to eat.
No blandishments nor kindness make them sweet.
What God could make an Eden this deceit;
Where lambs are snatched up while their mothers bleat

So God himself destroys to fill his leisure;
Such fearsome revelations show his measure.
…

The little bird

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A bird taps on this window every day,
Fast as flying leaves flail  in a gale.
But now he perches on the potted bay.
He feels the weather as the blind do braille.

This bird is faithful and I love him dear.
He’s fearless as he pecks upon the glass.
I hope he has a modicum of fear,
For who knows when a sparrow hawk will pass?

I see him like a human soul forlorn
Struggling to discern his own true way.
For soon he may be taken by a storm
But blithely he will eat, and after play.

The smallest bird has trust in the Unknown
By his example, our right way is shown

The Abingdon White Starling by Mike Flemming

http://home.btconnect.com/mike.flemming/WStarling.htm

This is written by an old friend of mine and contains some beautiful photos inclcuding one which looks like an angel

If I go…

Image

If I go I won’t tell you.
I’ll just disappear one day.
Like when a cigarette ,which seemed so long,
suddenly has become smaller
and you never noticed it
because you were talking
about the meaning of life
while life was somewhere else
blown away with your smoke
into the sky
and then dispersed
never quite visible again
but still floating on the breeze
hoping to be caught
in a butterfly net
but unable to communicate
except by flying.
If I go it will not be today
but it will be an ordinary day
no one will realise
that it’s that day
that the bird flies
from her nest
to go to a new place
only seeing the deserted nest
he realises,
my bird has flown

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Words rise up like geese at dawn

York Minster,home of sacred song and word
York Minster,home of sacred song and word

WORDS RISE UP

After writing about maps I began to write about words.Words are very powerful in any kind of society but more so in a highly literate one.Words can be sacred or mundane.They can be loving or heartbreaking.And in English we have so many of them because English was developed from several other languages….Anglo-Saxon,French,Latin,Greek,Celtic…..so more than one word for some things.Here in this poem I compare words to birds [ geese ] flocking into the sky like words flock into our minds

GEESE

Words rise up like geese at dawn

When with pale sun new day is born

The words approach and dance in line

The choice of words is mine

Words spelled here by sense and sound

In clause and sentence weave around.

Which tempting words shall I now use

And which shall I refuse?

The fire lights up inside my heart

So now my writing hand can start/

I sit down at my desk and say

“This is the way I spend my day.

With words I sing and play”.

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Birds can see God

English: Low Sun at Palace Pier, Brighton Abou...
English: Low Sun at Palace Pier, Brighton About an hour or so before sun set the birds swarm the pier, the sea gulls at about an hour before sunset and half an hour later the starlings perform an amazing ritual of synchronised flying around the pier. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Photo1936

By the lake a huge flock of pigeons rose from the trees and circled in precise and moving geometry whilst simultaneously many sea gulls which had been floating on the windblown water arose and formed concentric whirling music in the sky.We stood still on the grass in the deep silence, absorbing the colors,shapes and murmurings.Just a normal day in the country park but I am sure of one thing:

Birds can see God
Photo1065

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As if I were

November
November (Photo credit: Cape Cod Cyclist)

I was walking behind you

on the footpath

by the river

and I stopped for a moment because

I could see some wrens inside a shrub.

When I looked up

I saw you were

quite far away and  walking fast

as if you were already leaving me

and going on to

the next phase.

The sun shone on the playing field,

It was obscenely green for November,

as if to deny the end of the year

is getting nearer.

I left the wrens fluttering

inside the shrub

and hurried after you

as the swans eyed their five cygnets

and a few drops of rain

ran down my cheek

as if I were weeping

in the sunshine.

You looked smaller,

more determined,

as if anxious

to be off….

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A person is not a pet

Some people keep birds as pets.To me it seems so  cruel… a bird should fly.I suppose making any animal a pet may be wrong but some want to be.Dogs and cats no doubt were better off living near humans… so they moved closer.And the Egyptians worshipped cats .Some people treat their spouse  like  a pet.But it’s a bad idea.People may enjoy it at first but no-one can be the propertyof someone else however benevolent.Control is not loving even if you shower them with gifts,caresses and kisses.We need to belong but also to be free….to a reasonable extent….I know some people get sexually aroused by games of dominance and submission but it’s not good to be like that all time,in my view.I know books like Fifty shades of grey sell.But why do we need others fantasies?Why not use our own minds?

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The skylark

Freed from her trap
Bird soared into air,and hovered
And floated, resting;
And flew higher, singing as she flew,
And higher again,
Till there was only her song,
Left in the silence,
Trembling.

Up on the wide,stump topped hill,
I felt the lark inside my heart
And heard her singing.
And flying up with her,
I saw gold sun and silver moon,
Moors of heather ,and sheep grazing
Green hills,
And shimmering lakes,
Clouds ,sun and sky in watery mirrors.
And sang ,and dipped,and dropped,
And curled
Up the blue
Bright heaven, and rested
On the wind.
All that day
I was a lark singing.

I shall always have a vision of
A bird
That flew upwards,
Rejoicing and free
Into a deep blue sky, and high
And higher
Beyond high
Into a place, beyond eye even,
But music still sending.

I wish I were back on that heathery moor,
With the nibbling sheep and the bees sweetly humming,
Hearing again
The poignant song
Of the skylark,
A prisoner,freed by a magician,
From her trap,
So happy to be free,
So wonderful to see.
Do it again,
For me,