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Seanathon Aug 12
This song
Your sound
Is like crickets or grasshoppers
Their unfathoming fate
Happily found
Although I can't decide which
Or where they would be
A happy song indeed
Amanda Mar 27
The birds are chirping
It's a new day
Snowbanks are melting
Summer's on the way!
Yay
I thought I heard a chirping bird
just about this morning’s sunrise.
Don’t think a mating call I heard—
sounded like a shriek of surprise.

I was surprised, too, and quite so.
Not from the bird’s chirp. Well, perhaps.
There were puddles instead of snow,
and snow-plowed mountains in collapse.

That chirping bird and I both saw
the cautious springing up of spring.
But while that bird sang to the thaw,
I don’t think I’m done worrying.

Seasons ’round here don’t change like that.
Although winter has one more freeze,
the bird on its Tree Ararat,
celebrates forty-five degrees.

This morning it was just one bird,
soon maybe crickets will chirp, too.
But I think spring is seen not heard,
and that chirp’s too good to be true.
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danna22081 Mar 1
It might be said:

My thoughts relentlessly glide,
Ever so freely,
With apathetic, liberal pride,
Which I could never ideally
Express in my common,
Communicative nature.

I pondered upon my inability to expressively-express,
To inevitably manifest
My tunes within the populous world.
As chirping birds whistle within the gentle wind
Of a pocketed, clustered nestling,
Guiding their unravelling tunes
To their loved ones.

I pondered upon my proficiency,
My renown, relative intricacy
To speak through the ink of a hole within a pen.
The miniature loop of tragedies,
Romantically- led fantasies,
Before I simply had time to count to ten.

The pen of life,
One which glides
Throughout all walks of life
I’ve simply travelled.
Extends my thoughts
Which could never bring themselves
To walk… unravel.
To mend the journeys which met only the eye.

Journeys like years,
Lessons as tears
Which silently withered within the softened sockets of a warm, swollen eye…
Consumed by the joys of silent expression,
Regurgitating stories
Better told than their primary processions,
Of loopy, treacherous tragedies,
Romantic, fantastic fantasies,
I have finally realised.

The journey of a lifetime
Is merely dependent upon my
Expression.
I am a chirping bird,
Guiding my tunes to my loved ones,
No longer nestling amongst the hysterical herd.
For I know,
I am finally walking,
And my pen silently glides within the wind
Far behind me.
I love the subtle chirping of birds.
Johnny walker Nov 2018
Awake upon the morning
light to hear the sound of
calling birds gathering In
family Groups preparing
to beat the winter chill
migration they sit and
chat about then to fly
away a warmer climate
only to return hear
when summer decides
to reappear
How do they know to fly away, but fly they do to warmer climates
Mya Oct 2018
you look back at the school
and see your tantalizer standing in the doorway
and realize they have been telling you lies about your self and criticizing you by your size
When you look up at the sky
And realize how bright the sun is in your eyes
you look around and see that the world is so much
more fuller and beautiful than they tell you it is
you see the fluttering the butterflies
and hear the chirping of the chickadees hopping around in the grass
you hear the running of water from the creek behind your home
Simra Sadaf Apr 2018
in a cafe on this beautiful evening
i can hear the birds chirping,
we are sitting in our table
i notice your eyes are hazel,
your subtle ways of flirting
a moment i had been dreaming,
your eyes gazing at me tender
would you fall for me, i wonder.
Kee Apr 2017
3,452 holes in the wall.
I've counted all of them.
1,000 times this month.
My eyes closed, but sleep never comes.
So I count the holes in my wall.
Sometimes I listen to cars go by, or birds chirping.
Most times it's them yelling.
About me, or the bills.
Sometimes they even argue about  what to ******* eat.
I hate them both.
I wish they would've killed me instead.
4 more years until I'm free.
Until then...
1, 2, 3, 4, 5...
i wrote this spontaneously but i put a bit more thought into it. as of right now, Tian  is 12. I know in USA (That's where she's living)  it's 18 for the legal age, but I feel like it's too long of  a wait and this is fiction, so 16 it is :)
I don't want to tell the whole poem, but I do want to say that she suffers from insomnia and you'll learn why in the next part of the series :)
Thanks for reading!
Dr zik May 2015
Essence of changing seasons
Layer by layer
What effect of falling dew drops?
Noise of silence
Calm between chirping birds
Feelings during tides of oceans
Beauty of falling flakes of snow
Grasping of fog and giving warmth feelings
Result of blossoming of flower
Feeling the emotions
While facing a wanted sudden situation
Is not it love of wisdom?
Dr ZIK Poetry
Gemella H May 2015
Break Of A New Day

Birds chirping,
Crickets singing,
People laughing,
Cars passing.

Dawn is breaking,
Clouds are shaping,
People walking
Fowls are dancing.

All else is SILENT.
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