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Mina Feb 24
Pretty birds in a cage
Little birds in a rage
Red, yellow, green and blue
All bonded like a glue
They try, cry and weep
They fly and forget the creep
Young friends of Earth
Flightless friends from birth
Wish they were never born
Until they eat sweet corn
I don't remember the original poem but I tried to write something out of a stanza
Lostling Feb 20
I could only watch
As the people that helped me out of my egg
Took flight
As my seniors that showed me how to walk
Spread their wings
As my friends who showed me that path to the skies
Left for the clouds
Now, as I watch over the baby birds,
I know that soon, I too will have to leave.
Faces leave like birds in the winter
Except sometimes they don't return

(Another passing out parade is coming up, and I dont know if I'll cry or celebrate at mine)
Why'd you go and do that?
I miss you from two years ago,
Before he had his way,
And it scarred you for life.

I know you're scared,
But he won't protect you,
I'm afraid he just can't.

So come back around,
We need both hands to do the bird,
In our secret handshake.
:(
Laokos Feb 9
You are lovely
like birds in winter,
a rare sight when the world has turned its
back.
When solitude slips into
loneliness,
and the echo of forgotten places
becomes a silence so loud
it deafens—
you.
You shouldn’t be here,
but you are.
Fragile and feathered,
defying the dying world
with every beat of your wings.

I’ve shrunk myself before,
folded into corners,
but you—
you are smaller still,
yet somehow
you stand taller than the frozen trees.
You sing in the biting cold,
pirouette on the barren branches,
murmur in the bleakest of skies.

Unshaken by the darkest days,
you’re here to remind me
that something in me is, too.
No matter how dark,
no matter how cold,
no matter how dead it all seems—
there’s always something flying,
something singing,
something alive
in that desolate stretch.

It may seem
small

but,

it’s enough.
Maria Feb 7
I’ll be waiting for you at dawn,
Where the night ends,
Where birds chirp in whisper
Like elves from fairylands.

I’ll wash my feet with cool dew
And I will be calmly awaiting,
Where pure thoughts are twisting with osiers
And creating dreams, fascinating.

I’ll be waiting for you at dawn.
Come some morning. I’m here,
Where dew is cool and all-pure
And our dreams are near.
Angharad Jan 27
I was in awe and entranced
watching the dance,
of two lovers in flight
Slow and involved
I died there below,
envying the romance of the Red Kite
MetaVerse Jan 26

Flying in falling
Softly snow, five blue pigeons
And a white pigeon.  


Ejiro Jan 21
When put into the chains of captivity
their freedom is diminished
their songs are crushed into dust
we’re only the wind can pick up their pleads
lost to the sight of nature
for what is life without flight
their wings are reduced to shadows
not a single breeze to stir their feathers
no sky to lift them up their feet
so they only cuddle up together side by side
never to stretch out to the wild
the ones who capture the birds
force them to sing a tune of obedience
but the birds decline
in a heavy cost they keep their mouths shut 
the bars between them are meant to seem safe
according to the capturers
but in the eyes of the birds they view it as prison
without information about time or place
they keep their beaks low to the ground
knowing that they are more than musicians
with their melodies growing bitter
despair is the only thing humming out their mouths
Melanie Jan 19
in the way a little bird collects
sticks and shiny things
I've been collecting anything I see
that might make you smile
I love to think that I could be,
even in a small way,
part of your joy
sneaking my love to you between chirps
stick by stick
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