Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
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!
Cassia 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 slave..."

"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 Hell 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.
Morgan Mercury 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
Seanathon May 2016
I am a bird beneath the waves
Though it be dark and blue and deep
My wings are not best suited to the sea

Though lofty heights are known to me
It’s beneath the waves I wish to be

To see the fish and how they breathe
Through coral and the crystalline

Though I am free
With neither cast nor current in-between
I am a bird beneath the waves
I do not belong within the sea
You've heard of a fish out of water story? Well this is the opposite. A bird in water. :p
Morgan Mercury 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.
Mara W Kayh May 2017
I am your bird of prey

Caught between 2 posts
And a glistening fence.

Neck broken,
beak to the ground,
Half way trapped inside
your field of green.

I am your bird of prey,

Wings on a wire,
Still soft and light,
with feathers gleaming
where promise of flight,
newly broken, fell to earth.

'Twas passion that lured me to your
nest, where the cloud kissed Sun
with time
turned ashen my listless frame.

A testament to nature's seduction,
there was no escaping
your embrace
As the warmth
slowly left
my still
beating
heart.
Inspired by a beautiful Robin I found yesterday, stuck in a fence I had put up around a field of garlic.. it must have fluttered to death, trying to escape.
Knit Personality Aug 2018
A tweet takes form:
     He tweets, retweets,
     Tweets & repeats.
He tweets up a storm:
     He tweets, retweets,
     Tweets & repeats.

A birdbrain is
     (He tweets, retweets,
     Tweets & repeats)
A birdbrain his:
     He tweets, retweets,
     Tweets & repeats.

#
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.
Spenser Bennett 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?
Ira Aug 2018
The bird of the Hermes is my name,
And I eat my own wing to keep myself tame.

Through hellfire and fury, your armies are dead,
Becoming slaves of my hellish dread.

Yet the blood flows deep into the ground,
And I, the vampire lord, will absorb it with glee and proud!

The bird of the Hermes is my name,
And I eat my own wing to keep myself tame.

The jackal and casual, instruments of my cleansing light
All burn with there masters own hellish spite.

And the monsters of  kin, vampire and demon,
All meet the same end of hellfire as I once did, all to be seen as heathens by god and real men.

For the bird of the Hermes is my name,
And I eat my own wing to keep myself tame!
HELLSING *****!! Best anime, Alucard is the best character from the Seinen scene. And just in general. So here's a poem that  is taken from his perspective
sara Aug 2018
There's a bird caught in a cage somewhere
and she sings the sweetest song.
A natural beautiful sound;
the Man tells her she's singing it wrong.

She's singing, it's sinning;
bird, stop. She's singing,
he's spinning, then stop...
and a crack...
his mind snaps in his hands.
Some will never understand
the strength in nature's one (wo)man band.
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.
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 crack 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!
Amanda Noel Jul 4
How do you do it?
You leave me inspired.
Frozen in my tracks,
Your presence admired.

Lovely little hummingbird,
So fragile and small,
project feelings of comfort,
that stretch, oh so tall.

Confidence overwhelms me,
When graced with your time.
You whisper knowledge,
Everything will be just fine.
My lovelies
shamamama Jun 4
I see it in your eyes
    In ways like you are the otter
I see it in your positive flow
    In ways you are the magician
I see it in your smile
    In your flight
I see the bird in your heart
    I see the spirit moving through you
This is a birthday poem for my dear friend who swims like an otter, flies like a bird, and smiles like a magician
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.
The little squirrel enjoyed its nutty meal
Happy it squealed
The preying bird perched high in the tree
Happy, enjoyed its meal
As the squirrel squealed its last
While the little squirrel lived its nutty fruity dream
I look at you and I see a bird
and I am the sea
have you ever wondered
what would it be like
if you dive into me
tragedy
and what would it be like
if I tried to reach you
destruction
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
Marla Jun 12
I am so very broke, I can’t afford to pay it thought.
Fettered in a cage by poverty, left only to pray and rot.
The feathers of my soul have been tarred and stained by life.
So much so, I'm not sure if they'll ever again shine bright.
This Bird in my heart used to sing for my hopes and dreams;
Mourning every tragedy with requiems that gleamed.
A little Canary to be all mine until the very end of time,
Staving off this cold world and reminding me I'm fine.

This poverty starved her slow and deep, down to the very core.
Melodies that once remedied despair gone forevermore.
Nowadays, all I can ever do is reminisce about that yellow bird;
How she'd bring warmth to my life's cold hell of a blur.
The way our voices would harmonize on little notes;
Prophecies of a better future foretold from our nook.
That's why I still cling to the distant sound of her words,
Because they ramble on in me until nothing seems absurd.
I like to think she still sings sometimes, though no sound is heard.
That music of hope rings in my mind because now, I am Bird.
Kevin J Taylor Jul 2017
I was walking down the road
Just as happy as can be
And all the leaves upon the trees
Were waving back at me

I saw a curly snail
As he stretched to greet his day
Then headed down the road with me
Then stopped to stretch again

I saw a pretty sparrow
She was perched upon a wire
She sang a song—I sang along
We made a lovely choir

The snail conducted from a twig—
Just so, our song began
“Happy Birthday to You!”
Did you hear us as we sang?

We had a happy party
As we danced around—We three!
And we wished you Happy Birthday!
Just as HAPPY as can be!
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
Next page