Stroke a myth and kiss a legend
Lose my strain in a cool, still pool
Where ripple echoes with the music
of memories
The linnet bird flies, no longer a fool
chained by doubt and crippled by fear
I've finally found my trill
That outshines the sun and
rattles the stars
I have a fire to fill

Poem I wrote in my journal. Been such a long day, too.
Got my overall result from uni, got my coursework and
now to find my way.

As I arabesque in the dark,
the hands of time slip on by.
Chained by inability to feel
anything apart from duty.

Clutching me,
heart and soul,
body and mind,
the tendrils of melancholy
embraces me as I leap through the air
with broken wings; the moon dims
but I see the waving of golden
threads in the air.

Am I nothing but
a gilded-caged nightingale?
Bound to be a drifting leaf?
Where my trills are soft and sweet
but no one hears nor sees me?

A dying lilt, and a frail enchantment.

Poem from my journal

Petrified would
Smoothed down by sand and time
Almost hollow like birds bone
I want to club you over the head
I will float with it, clutch it
I will be soggy, long before the water soaks all the way to the core of the tree’s bone.

i wrote this in class cuz i hate my poetry class
Viany Sep 12

I am a single bird
flying alone
yet somehow
my heart is

Sun Sep 10

Standing in the shore of midnight
when stars are hiding
under the haze of dark clouds
I set my soul free as a bird
to the starless sky

The lifelong journey

I strive with the distant cry
what seashores endure
It could be the end of the world
     I would feel pulled toward you

Moonbeams paint
My dreams
aglow silver
splashing against my wings
I feel the emptiness
in your absence

I rejuvenate with the moonbeam's shine

Clive Blake Sep 9

People call me ugly,
And other hurtful names,
I'm often ostri-sized,
My feathers used for games.

They say the Ugly-Duckling
Grew up to be a swan,
And though I'm still but very young,
They ask me What went wrong?
I'm left here on my own-some;
And feel so sad and blue,
Well, you would feel the same
If you were an ... emu.

Peter Balkus Sep 4

I'd like to be
a nightingale.

Nightingales sing
the beauty of the night,
the moon, the stars,
and the starry light.

Unlike a man.
Man sleeps at night,
only snores to the stars,
only gasps to the moon,
hate its bright light.

He needs to wake up at dawn
and wash his face
and hurry up,
and chase the bus,
do things he hates.

That's why
I want to be a nightingale.
In fact, I am.

Nutshell Sep 1

Have you ever seen a bird of prey
Flying high above the sky so blue
Even this heat that enduring the day
Waiting to meet the bird of prey

Up above little they known
With no problem nor struggle as they flown
Dancing like naked indians as i lay
As i wait for the bird of prey

Minutes gone by and he land beside me
Helping me with my suffering
Thinking it as a God wanting to feed me
Save me bird of prey save me

The bird move closer
As my vision gone blunder
Pain shook my skin and water surrounds my body
Oh thank you for being death bird of prey

Lucy Wooding Sep 1

The bird song anchors my soul,
Soothing any quiver of anxiety
Keeping my ship stable and steady.

Sweet shrills and cheery echoes soften my breath,
As my limbs gently fall to rest.

Innocent symphonies rippling through the air,
Offering divine headspace
Detoxifying unwanted bugbear.

I'm at one with the earth
Alive in the moment
My stronghold of calm
A serenity so potent.

No drug can emulate this untarnished moment of peace
A gratifying tension release.

So pure and still I can hear the rise and fall of my chest,
Like blissful waves lapping onto virginal marble sands.

hannah Aug 25

the skyscrapers of oak, swaying,
the soft, peaceful melody of the wind,
branches, extending, wrapping around themselves,
in an act of dance, a twirl around the whirling, impassable sky.

fallen leaves, raining down,
painting the ground an open-flesh red.

the wind chime, the banging pipes,
the unquestionable need to be a part of nature.

the ominous ocean,
the drowning sailboat,
the screaming seabirds.

the nature drags you to where it wants you to go,
the clouds cast a scolding look,

It hums,
“Listen to me.”

you open your arms,
pressing your fingers tightly together,
bruising each bone there.

you lean back and let the breath of earth,
steal you away.

this is how God discovered bird.

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