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SøułSurvivør Sep 2015
---

i

blue grey clouds
of crushed
velvet

sunlight
tears
the
seams


ii

embers of
delicate peach
ignite flames
of fuchsia

the orb of
sun burns colors
away to ashes

blown into floes
of white
mare's
tails


iii

tiny bird
settles restless
on the
highest
branch

flits
away


iv

wind
through
the weathered stones
cries then whispers

luring
the children
who lie within our ribs
to break free
and sing
songs
of
play


v

mamalaria
cactus
wears her
wreath
of
pale
lavender
flowers

sings to
her babes
clustered
below

saguaro
listens



soulsurvivor
(C) 9/13/2015
beautiful day rises up
out of the ashes
of a flaming
sunrise

---

To a special friend...
... thank you!
Danneli Aug 2018
"Come hear!" they cry thru the shadowed veil
"Don't you hear the blackbirds song?
Do not weep for the grievings of her heart
For it is you that is dead and gone..."

"It's me indeed!" cried the poor wand'rer
"For behold I meet death at last
My heart beats fast like the fallen bird's wings
Filled with sorrows for my lonesome past..."

"No, No!" cried the blacksmith's wife in vain
"Your heart should not grieve for your colorful days!
I n're leave home and I work till I bleed
I am caged and shall die a *****..."

"Your tunes are absurd to my disciplined ear,"
The businessman spat in the stranger's path
"You can scarce imagine my crimes toward man
I am ****** to **** for my horrid acts..."

"My songs have begun to fade out of key!
My spirit has died," the performer mourned
"I sing alone with another's words
The crowd sees beauty, but it's pain they scorn..."

Now do you hear it? My song that I sing?
Now that you've reveled on a darkness within
Sing no longer for me the tune that I give
For the caged bird that I am, I see all of your sins.
I tried a new style. Sorry, I can't explain it or make it more complicated than it is.
h a r Mar 2017
A sound was heard at my
garden door
A feathered smudge found upon it

There she lay in frightened
trembling dismay
   A giant knelt ...
yet still towering above her

He reached out and touched
her pounding heart
Then cupped her warmth
in his hand

She stayed awhile until
she could smile
At the kindly human mystery

This love they shared
is uncommonly rare
She knew she could be freed

Before she flew
she whispered a song she knew
into the gentle giant’s  beard :

“I cannot make you happy
You're a wounded Bird like me ―
be Free...
you must find the strength to Fly”…

"A Bird in your hand
  is worth two in the bush ―

   Come fly away with me"...



March 2012 © harlon rivers ... all rights reserved
.
Thank you so much for the special feature this simple heartfelt poem has been allowed.  It is based on actual events that happen often where habitat
meets civilization.  As humans we can mitigate this footprint left behind by lifting the weight of caring with actions that speck louder than words. Who among us has not needed a helping hand when we are struggling with the unexpected?  Moments we must find the strength to carry on with a little help from our friends?

   Find the strength to fly ―

Written March 1st, 2012
reposted from my original account
.
Daisy Marrow Jun 2014
You lay in a field of flowers counting each bird that passes overhead.
You've erased concern and decided to live for the moment because you always would say, "we might be dead by tomorrow."
Flowers grew from your heart and bloomed across your lungs,
creating a garden that sang the most beautiful hymns,
while my garden was withering.
Each breath you took was never wasted,
but I couldn't help but count mine like they were birds passing overhead.
Every night you would view the stars and moon with pure amazement as if it was your first time seeing them.
You gave all your love to me and each kiss was coined in my pocket.
You fell in love with me every night and I fell for all your hymns.
Soon enough the world would pass us by but I wouldn't blink because I could live off your touch for the rest of my time.
You showed me there is more in life than just one color,
but instead, the world is a whole painting with colors that can't be described.
You showed me just how beautiful the world was.
You taught me how to grow beauty from my eyes but lately, I've been dreaming and falling for stars.
Imagining what it'd be like slow dancing with the planets, getting lost in constellations.
But I'm just not ready to go yet however I do not control time.
You showed me that dying can be beautiful.
That we'll be okay because when we leave we all become one with the earth and one with nature.
So love, love me until time runs out,
until I become one with nature.

And many years later as time starts to fly by and you slowly start to watch your clock tick down, you'll know where to find me, my love.
I'll be up with stars.
Somewhere lost in the cosmos.
I'll be spinning with the planets dreaming about what it would feel like to be able to walk on flowers again.
2014
Daisy Marrow Oct 2014
My love is vast.
My love is strong.
My love is driven by the thought
of you noticing me one day.
Although I am told that some love never blooms
like flowers struggling during the bitter colds.
I have nothing to offer you.
All I have are my bones.
They hold me up
on days I feel like a bird with broken wings,
but I will always love you with the lights on.
I will care for your wounds
until you're able to fly again.
Until you can reach the moon.
So play your guitar
and sing your songs.
I will admire you from afar
as you carry on.
Don't worry about me.
I'm not trying to come off as a creep
but I love your eyes,
and how they look like dark coffee.
I love the way you speak.
Each word a melody.
Every sentence a song.
I'm caught on your hook.
I could listen all day long.
I'm lost in your music
while you're lost in this madness.
So don't worry my dear,
the flowers will someday bloom.
I shall save these words for you.
I'll read them out to you,
but only once during the blue moon.

You're a sweetheart and a really brave bird.
So walk with me to the edge of the earth
and I will share you all my secrets,
and you will share me yours.
We'll tie them both to balloons
and let them go.
Lay with me down on this pearly dew-drop grass.
We'll watch the clouds travel to and fro,
just stay with me in this perfect spot.
You don't have to go.
2014
Julia Hones Jul 2018
Your life is made of distant springs and falls,
a straight route is not
what you own
for hurricanes and storms divert your path
to new horizons.

Will you find horseshoe *****, mussels, clams
on the stopovers?
Food awaits you
if the shores are not ravaged
by human greed, ignorance.

Your resilience is written in B95's ordeals,
a mosaic of adventures ingrained in his own cells.

The threads of your trips assemble
the places of Mother Earth connected in its roles;
nothing is detached in the collective harmony of souls.

Red knot shorebird,
peaceful messenger,
icon of strength without rage,
your story is the universal flight of awareness
waiting to be heard.
Red knot shorebirds are endangered birds due to human greed and ignorance. B95 is a survivor who has traveled the moon and halfway back in terms of distance.
Bison Jun 2016
Does the lonely bird still sing?
Do his feathers still greet the Spring?

Is there a sadness in his song?
When the full forest sounds wrong?

Unsure if abandoned by hope
Or lost in the fetid smoke.

His voice a broken pitiful thing.
A lonely bird cannot sing.

And if he musters a "Po-tee-weet"
No other birds may he greet.

Will ever a time come to pass
When the lonely bird sings at last?
Jeff Gaines Mar 2018
Cardinal
Oh, Cardinal
You great scarlet bird.

You hop along my porch rail
But you don't say a word.

Defiant
So Defiant
Of nature's camouflage.

There is no way to hide
Your bright red entourage.

Orange
Bright Orange.
Your sharp pointy beak.

Gathers the worms and the seeds
All the meals that you seek.

Feed
Feed her.
This mate that you court.

Such a noble young man
You dance and cavort.

Sing
Sing sweet
You and your friends

I'll love your songs every morning
'Til winter comes 'round again.

Babies
Your babies
I'll meet them come next year.

When in the Fall, they'll alight on my porch
And bring my morning's cheer.

Cardinal
Oh, Cardinal
I'm so glad you're here, you see.

I knew your parents and now you have come
Singing just for me.
I live pretty far out in the country. The birds here are really awesome. I love to go out late at night and listen to the Barred Owl or spend an afternoon sitting in our back meadow to watch the breeding pair of Peregrine Falcons that have a nest in one of our Methuselah oaks.

But every morning as the sun rises and I have my coffee on the back porch ... the Cardinals always seem to be the early risers. Their songs begin with the very first ***** of light. They seem to have gotten used to me, as they now land on my porch rail, pretty close to me.

They sing and court mates and sometimes, I swear, they just kinda bop around on the railing and watch ME!

They are simply beautiful and I LOVE having my coffee with them each morning!
Ivy Grace Bell Apr 2015
She grew tired of her thoughts
and the weaknesses they had found,
So she flicked her embered cigarette;
and burnt them to the ground.
Dead lover Jan 2016
Well before you know anything else about him,
I'm so happy right now, with my eyes filled upto brim,
Well yeah, it's about a special friend of mine,
Call him a friend, a daddy or a birdie, all are fine.

He's a down to Earth person, with no time to even show it!
Yet people call my birdie, insensitive!
I don't know what do they want to say,
And why as negative they want him to be portrayed.

He's not weird, just unique,
He's not being selective,just doing something for himself for the first time,
You can't call him Selfish.

He's not you, He's not me,
He's better support than us, you'll see!

He's an awesome person, with his awesomeness obscure,
That doesn't make him insecure!
He's no good around people you say,
But in reality, He's the same around all..

He's not fake, expressions he doesn't feel like he doesn't know how to make.
He's just too good the way he reacts,
'cause there's just one way he acts,
That's same,
And no adjective I know,
Could complete his name...

I call him a dad as of yet,
So that such an independent person of humanity,
I don't forget.

**Dad, Please stay
Stay my
Dad
Soul Scribe Jul 2018
She was beautiful as she sat there
I stared through foggy binoculars
Red rings around my eyes from staring
Too long.

A migrating bird encapsulating an entire
Ecosystem's aroma.
Each feather soft as seafoam spun from silkworms.
She gazes into nature's greatest gifts of nectar.
Sweet and rare.
She sits across the class from me.
Never to glance over to her humble
Bird Watcher.
This is not meant to seem stalkerish but in an effort to emotionalize how a shy kid feels when looking at a beautiful girl
Joie Yin Aug 2018
Starting from today
I’m a free bird again
Paving a new way
Free from hurt and pain.

Spread my wings
Set to rise and fly
Clear of these feelings
All tears have run dry.

Aches are like taboos
Silent, unspeakable and painful
Scars are like tattoos
Exist, real yet beautiful.

Tomorrow is a new day
Start a new chapter
Until the hair turns gray
Let’s live life better.
Joie Yin
Rich Hues Nov 2018
Cloistered within her living walls of flesh,
Soapstone skin, breath minty fresh,
Bursting ivory, towelling dressing-gown,
Laughing as she bounces up and down.
First line is stolen from 'The Flea'  by John Donne.
CA Guilfoyle May 2015
I woke early to silence
but for the whirring of a fan
the stillness before dawn
I wrote these words
though they never convey
the pure heart of morning
or pure the song of the first bird.
Arianna Nov 2018
Shadows of wings
Fall, a fleeting night,
Over the forest;
Winged phantom
Far-off
Dancing circles before the Sun.

Prowling along the mountainside
Ablaze with light and snow,
The Eagle climbs still higher
Through the blinding Vastness,

And I follow.

A speck emerges
From the twisting kaleidoscope of Morning's blank brightness
Spiraling towards earth

A feather

Alights at my feet in answer
To questions festering unasked beneath the surface,
Warm with the omniscience
Of high-above things:

          A sliver
          Borne hither
          On the breath of the Cosmos.  
* = the last line refers to Abbess Hildegard von Bingen's metaphor of herself as "a feather on the breath of God". It only came to mind as a conceptually appropriate parallel to the feather and to the symbolic significance of the Eagle with regards to this text.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQWEHhXQ8Fs
Natasha Jul 2018
Little bird, we're here
I'll sing to you a tale
about me and this mighty golden called the sun

He poured endless light to my eternal darkness
and helped me grow flowers
to create this garden of love
where you would chant and fly around

Little bird, the sun hushed my bitterness
he shines through my tears
and we create a rainbow
as he said cursed is the life
but sweet it is for certain.
Wayward Aug 2018
She laid in her cage, her feathers combed,
She was a beautiful red parrot.
She was taught what to speak and taught how to be,
But she lived imprisoned in a cage.

She was looked after well, and she lived with class,
But this wasn't where she longed to be.
She stared out the window, at the bright, blue sky,
And wondered how it would be if she could fly.

She had everything that she'd ever want.
But why did she feel so dull and lost?
What would her life be outside this cage?
All these questions burned inside her with rage.

She longed to live of her own free will.
She wished she could be released.
But alas! She'd live and grow old in age,
As free as a bird in a cage.
This is a little inspired by my own life I guess. Strict parents and all that. Another quick shirt one! Hope you like it!
Mariamme May 2018
i feel so hollow;
echoing cries bounce
off the scraped bone
free of lifeblood
picked clean & still stained
by my river of red
the intangible flood
collected in porcelain
flushed down drains
motherhood, not for me

& i chose freedom
at the cost of loss
of little fingertips & teeth
not because i fear life
i fear loss of life
and the pain of this world

i too was a child, broken
born of blood & bird bones
too skinny to nurture
high as a kite but never free
i saw my way out
and took the loss instead

i'll never set myself free
if it brings you into this world
my darlings of bird bones
and little fingertips
born of blood & brokenness
but safety is yet yours.
be free without me.
Llila Jul 2016
(written to be read as spoken-word)
There is a bird inside my rib-cage,
I swallowed it whole four years ago.
Its weight drags my feet further and further into the earth below
And its screeches never cease.
Sometimes I worry that it will **** me
And other times I wish it would.
Occasionally,
it would scratch at my lungs and bruise my ribs with its flailing,
It doesn’t do that anymore though,
Sometimes I wish it would.
The talons reminded me that I was still here.
But now the bird simply lies inside my chest making it difficult to breathe.
There is no longer fury in its wings, only the burnt out embers of what used to be.
I fear that the bird has died and that his little bones are the only part of him left to weigh me down.

I dream about freeing the bird, cutting open my lungs and letting his dark feathers seep away,
Tearing skin from bone and bone from bird.
That would surely **** me, but at least the bird could be free.

(lines added later)
I have written this poem a thousand times and I will write it a thousand more
Because I want it to be perfect
I will say to you a thousand times that perfection is unattainable
and yet I will try a thousand times to attain it.
That is the curse of the bird
I’m beginning to conquer my bird,
But like a long had pet, it is difficult to let go
A close friend, a pretty drug, it’s difficult to put down
But when I do,
The entire universe will know
Because I will sing without feathers I my throat,
Because I will paint without darkness in my eyes,
And because I will wake up in the morning to see the sun rise
And I will walk for miles because I want to
And I smile and smile and smile
Until my face forgets the shape of a frown
I wrote this a while ago and added the last lines later
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