"birdbath" poems - Hello Poetry

*Little wings flutter Morning starts with eyes smiling Birdbath needs filling*

0

Mar 29, 2015

Mar 29, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC

ormond

Zz Cleanliness

*Little wings flutter Morning starts with eyes smiling Birdbath needs filling*

3

*Little wings flutter Morning starts with eyes smiling Birdbath needs filling*

0

Jan 30, 2016

Jan 30, 2016 at 10:19 PM UTC

ormond

Zz Cleanliness

*Little wings flutter Morning starts with eyes smiling Birdbath needs filling*

3

Something rattles in the soul. It must be paid attention - it is the soul, the only sure thing - and rattled in return. Slow begins the dance of tongues and hard news. I learn a thing I never wished to learn. Afterwards, a dance of tongues in the ensuite begins a sudden rapture of claiming. Nails mine, skin mine to make a pink impression on. Bile in the back of the throat, mine. Fear of death, mine. Oaths and oaths, mine, too. An exchange of humility, knee for a knee. The rigid wall at your back. The wall at your back. The night which enriches bluer out of the blue air, not the action of the world moving at all. The particles of water in a birdbath divide, decide among themselves to marry each to each, to reproduce. They become an ocean. They drown the birds. My mouth fills with feathers, teeth itch with the tiny mites running between the shafts. I am a bell, and you are a country. I am a bell and sound from far away. Hands touch the broken vase in her parts, the toes, the eyelash, the sunken wreck, the crowd of dead, the treasure. They say all this as if the map was drawn and burned and came again in char from the tablecloth to all our wonder. A single miracle can last for weeks in the mouth. Sometimes centuries. I will spend eighteen days in the void of grace. What begins as a pain in my shoulders will grow into a tree and bury me. I will want promises, promises, promises. (water, water, water) I will never be satisfied. Looking always for permanent loss it becomes easy to simply misplace. Your caution leads to strange decisions. You put your keys in the fridge. I would like to say I knew the words: I cut the lock of hair, I drew the blood. The hex was removed by faith and chaste reflection but everywhere I look, there is a confusion of hungry birds and beggars and I forget the spell, or what chaste reflection even is. Anyways, something breaks. Not my doing. Suddenly, I am just noticing sky again. I am transcribed back into English. My first decision is to wash my car, and next, to learn what faith meant to anyone. Charmed, is it? Something rattles in the soul. It must be paid attention - it is the soul, the only sure thing - and rattled in return. It has nothing, really, to say. It only rattles.

0

May 10, 2018

May 10, 2018 at 10:24 PM UTC

wade-redfearn

A Fever

Something rattles in the soul. It must be paid attention - it is the soul, the only sure thing - and rattled in return. Slow begins the dance of tongues and hard news. I learn a thing I never wished to learn. Afterwards, a dance of tongues in the ensuite begins a sudden rapture of claiming. Nails mine, skin mine to make a pink impression on. Bile in the back of the throat, mine. Fear of death, mine. Oaths and oaths, mine, too. An exchange of humility, knee for a knee. The rigid wall at your back. The wall at your back. The night which enriches bluer out of the blue air, not the action of the world moving at all. The particles of water in a birdbath divide, decide among themselves to marry each to each, to reproduce. They become an ocean. They drown the birds. My mouth fills with feathers, teeth itch with the tiny mites running between the shafts. I am a bell, and you are a country. I am a bell and sound from far away. Hands touch the broken vase in her parts, the toes, the eyelash, the sunken wreck, the crowd of dead, the treasure. They say all this as if the map was drawn and burned and came again in char from the tablecloth to all our wonder. A single miracle can last for weeks in the mouth. Sometimes centuries. I will spend eighteen days in the void of grace. What begins as a pain in my shoulders will grow into a tree and bury me. I will want promises, promises, promises. (water, water, water) I will never be satisfied. Looking always for permanent loss it becomes easy to simply misplace. Your caution leads to strange decisions. You put your keys in the fridge. I would like to say I knew the words: I cut the lock of hair, I drew the blood. The hex was removed by faith and chaste reflection but everywhere I look, there is a confusion of hungry birds and beggars and I forget the spell, or what chaste reflection even is. Anyways, something breaks. Not my doing. Suddenly, I am just noticing sky again. I am transcribed back into English. My first decision is to wash my car, and next, to learn what faith meant to anyone. Charmed, is it? Something rattles in the soul. It must be paid attention - it is the soul, the only sure thing - and rattled in return. It has nothing, really, to say. It only rattles.

71

River bamboo arrayed in lace tiers consoles the birdbath on its loss of robins Intemperate August staggers in liquored air of wavery heat and layered sighs Leaves relinquish their rush toward this “ripe on time” Blackberry brambles have ceased to reach now bow to ponder their plunder while petunias, those bold delinquents! bloom as if the frost’s lethal cling were some myth the antique roses had made up Bud, bloom, revive! See the generation of the bee! Bud, bloom, survive— to do it all again for the single sake... of treasuring beginning in the end... Her bicycle, my geranium have found eternity together on the sun spattered patio She— opens the screen door as I— climb the morning stairs She— squints smiles amongst sleepy freckles who has not brushed her hair in a late August moment of not caring And I know it will all happen anyway no matter what I do....

0

Aug 26, 2017

Aug 26, 2017 at 12:43 PM UTC

elizabeth-balise

The Place Where Summer Ends

River bamboo arrayed in lace tiers consoles the birdbath on its loss of robins Intemperate August staggers in liquored air of wavery heat and layered sighs Leaves relinquish their rush toward this “ripe on time” Blackberry brambles have ceased to reach now bow to ponder their plunder while petunias, those bold delinquents! bloom as if the frost’s lethal cling were some myth the antique roses had made up Bud, bloom, revive! See the generation of the bee! Bud, bloom, survive— to do it all again for the single sake... of treasuring beginning in the end... Her bicycle, my geranium have found eternity together on the sun spattered patio She— opens the screen door as I— climb the morning stairs She— squints smiles amongst sleepy freckles who has not brushed her hair in a late August moment of not caring And I know it will all happen anyway no matter what I do....

31

Sitting by the Birdbath~He noticed the sloshing had suddenly stopped~Looking over his book to take a Gaze~A bird he did not see~but He DID see a Face with legs~Glaring with RED eyes~that had a piercing effect~making him not fear~but rather be Drawn~to this face on the Birdbath~He saw no wings~but as he approached~he watched the feet Push the head upward~Wings from his ears~stretched it seemed for 20 feet~And as it Lifted~not screeching as a Bird might do~but simply with firm clear WORDS~stated; I'll return at Midnight, , , BE Ready for the Journey..........

0

Apr 2, 2011

Apr 2, 2011 at 11:29 AM UTC

barnoahmike

" * FRUMPLED by DUSK * (preface) *" ( #55 )

Sitting by the Birdbath~He noticed the sloshing had suddenly stopped~Looking over his book to take a Gaze~A bird he did not see~but He DID see a Face with legs~Glaring with RED eyes~that had a piercing effect~making him not fear~but rather be Drawn~to this face on the Birdbath~He saw no wings~but as he approached~he watched the feet Push the head upward~Wings from his ears~stretched it seemed for 20 feet~And as it Lifted~not screeching as a Bird might do~but simply with firm clear WORDS~stated; I'll return at Midnight, , , BE Ready for the Journey..........

1

I continued the gentle climb passed building, birdbath, “bathtub Mary” and was stopped by the sound-- Endless mission of the river as she made her way over the rocks of early summer. I knew I'd found our home At the top of the stairs a wooden deck off second floor Up the fourteen stairs to our new door I could see her now fully gleaming beyond the red oaks and wild cherry framed unspeakable by greens and fragrance of the multiflora rose just coming into bloom I could go on-- but there are so few words that fit the sound of a river so content She whispered to me between her gurgling song “Hush....”

0

Jun 6, 2018

Jun 6, 2018 at 9:19 PM UTC

elizabeth-balise

A Home by the River

I continued the gentle climb passed building, birdbath, “bathtub Mary” and was stopped by the sound-- Endless mission of the river as she made her way over the rocks of early summer. I knew I'd found our home At the top of the stairs a wooden deck off second floor Up the fourteen stairs to our new door I could see her now fully gleaming beyond the red oaks and wild cherry framed unspeakable by greens and fragrance of the multiflora rose just coming into bloom I could go on-- but there are so few words that fit the sound of a river so content She whispered to me between her gurgling song “Hush....”

20

cookie tins and tea your faded grade school drawings and her chipped birdbath

0

Aug 13, 2016

Aug 13, 2016 at 9:07 PM UTC

falling-ashes

your mother's house (haiku)

cookie tins and tea your faded grade school drawings and her chipped birdbath

3

Morning mind crackles, Darting flight of spooked birds, . . . One lover has left.

0

Oct 22, 2013

Oct 22, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC

ormond

Haiku ( birdbath )

Morning mind crackles, Darting flight of spooked birds, . . . One lover has left.

3

Sweet sylvan birdbath, Crows leave bones— pure waters taint, . . . Machiavellian.

0

Aug 22, 2013

Aug 22, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC

ormond

Haiku ( spoilers )

Sweet sylvan birdbath, Crows leave bones— pure waters taint, . . . Machiavellian.

3

*Crow sullies birdbath Never to drink or to bathe Just to lord over*

0

Mar 27, 2015

Mar 27, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC

ormond

Zz Dark Prince

*Crow sullies birdbath Never to drink or to bathe Just to lord over*

3

i. Evil sleeps in an orchard not far from here. The apples sweat him out. Dressed as god, the Sun watches and nods. He bleeds for them out of his own mouth. A god's mask means protection. But in time, he will **** them dry. And autumn will fall. Postures will fall. Pulses will fall, like pills, like poison. ii. A cloud forest signals the first of the shadows. Summer is nocturnal. A buttery Moon leaves the world warm and breathing. The trees stir, the stars hiccup, and Nighttime climbs onto the birdbath where it tells you all its tricks. iii. Evil blinks from a tree where the apple skulls intrude. The garden combs you through its arteries, scooping your midsummer grave. A beautiful accident closes in on itself. And then a light like milk. And then the whistling. iv. Summer whistles in the dark: The sound of Evil kneeling to the imagination undoing him. A deadly glow becoming a romance on the white fences. Nighttime draws dust away from your shoulders, translates Summer sound and says, You are your own harvest. Your madness is only there when you want it to be.

0

Jan 11, 2013

Jan 11, 2013 at 9:59 PM UTC

roanne-q

lessons from that summer

i. Evil sleeps in an orchard not far from here. The apples sweat him out. Dressed as god, the Sun watches and nods. He bleeds for them out of his own mouth. A god's mask means protection. But in time, he will **** them dry. And autumn will fall. Postures will fall. Pulses will fall, like pills, like poison. ii. A cloud forest signals the first of the shadows. Summer is nocturnal. A buttery Moon leaves the world warm and breathing. The trees stir, the stars hiccup, and Nighttime climbs onto the birdbath where it tells you all its tricks. iii. Evil blinks from a tree where the apple skulls intrude. The garden combs you through its arteries, scooping your midsummer grave. A beautiful accident closes in on itself. And then a light like milk. And then the whistling. iv. Summer whistles in the dark: The sound of Evil kneeling to the imagination undoing him. A deadly glow becoming a romance on the white fences. Nighttime draws dust away from your shoulders, translates Summer sound and says, You are your own harvest. Your madness is only there when you want it to be.

57

Summer days, summer days -- trees offer their gentle canopy; roses, full-blown scent the air. Lizards bask -- the humble bees visits flower after flower, their hum enveloping on a warm afternoon. Beetles scurry hurriedly working their naturnal jobs. A cock-robin sits upon the birdbath, and barn swallows dip and turn on sky-borne currents. An orange cat naps in the cool shade beneath the mulberry tree -- while butterflies linger by the garden gate. Summer days, summer days: this season reigns so beautifully.

0

Jun 27, 2011

Jun 27, 2011 at 9:20 AM UTC

adelaide-caron-dyson

Summer

Summer days, summer days -- trees offer their gentle canopy; roses, full-blown scent the air. Lizards bask -- the humble bees visits flower after flower, their hum enveloping on a warm afternoon. Beetles scurry hurriedly working their naturnal jobs. A cock-robin sits upon the birdbath, and barn swallows dip and turn on sky-borne currents. An orange cat naps in the cool shade beneath the mulberry tree -- while butterflies linger by the garden gate. Summer days, summer days: this season reigns so beautifully.

32

A thousand gods under the cricket moons couldn't even save one little bit... (salvation is the enemy of a violet world) the same ******* gods that made us educated and civilized. Why not a cosmic birdbath or eternal blissful garden that happy children frolic in amongst springy damp Bermuda grass and Birch trees that shine like a trillion flawless diamonds, almost as beautiful, at dawn when lightly frosted? Regardless, days like these i wake up full of vigor, dreamy-eyed, complacent, full of longing, but still glad our gods are dead.

0

Oct 25, 2013

Oct 25, 2013 at 8:02 PM UTC

derek-yohn

reduction

A thousand gods under the cricket moons couldn't even save one little bit... (salvation is the enemy of a violet world) the same ******* gods that made us educated and civilized. Why not a cosmic birdbath or eternal blissful garden that happy children frolic in amongst springy damp Bermuda grass and Birch trees that shine like a trillion flawless diamonds, almost as beautiful, at dawn when lightly frosted? Regardless, days like these i wake up full of vigor, dreamy-eyed, complacent, full of longing, but still glad our gods are dead.

23

Coastline yellow dawn, Overflowing fountain Untrimmed garden, Left to Decay Rot in the sun Bluebonnet field, Honey suckle sweet breeze Left to flourish, Their petals reach to the sky Light step, on the untreded Birdbath with feathers flashing about it Dawning spring, swallowing following Enchanted breeze, dew on the leaves Break the cycle of the illusion Never ending we march along One step higher another step closer At the end, Door Closer locksmith I have to see beyond this

0

May 9, 2020

May 9, 2020 at 3:31 AM UTC

nasa-nick

Beyond this

Coastline yellow dawn, Overflowing fountain Untrimmed garden, Left to Decay Rot in the sun Bluebonnet field, Honey suckle sweet breeze Left to flourish, Their petals reach to the sky Light step, on the untreded Birdbath with feathers flashing about it Dawning spring, swallowing following Enchanted breeze, dew on the leaves Break the cycle of the illusion Never ending we march along One step higher another step closer At the end, Door Closer locksmith I have to see beyond this

18

Where do you go? You just died I could see it Like a thousand times One step ahead Fond of planning Like the sharpest knife Always stabbing Bury your secrets Under the birdbath In your backyard Through the red path And I won't look for signs My eyes wide shut Still find yourself Among prison walls

0

Jan 13, 2022

Jan 13, 2022 at 1:35 PM UTC

Farworsefates

Heal me

Where do you go? You just died I could see it Like a thousand times One step ahead Fond of planning Like the sharpest knife Always stabbing Bury your secrets Under the birdbath In your backyard Through the red path And I won't look for signs My eyes wide shut Still find yourself Among prison walls

16

Feathers fluttering . . . Shine from heavens after rain, . . . Shy dove in birdbath.

0

Feb 28, 2015

Feb 28, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC

ormond

Haiku ( lightness )

Feathers fluttering . . . Shine from heavens after rain, . . . Shy dove in birdbath.

3

Lilly's little birdbath Sitting on a dirt path From the bowl she did drink In the water the did sink

0

Jun 23, 2015

Jun 23, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC

Dead-Lock

Broken Lyrics

Lilly's little birdbath Sitting on a dirt path From the bowl she did drink In the water the did sink

4

i try to move on but you're in every place i look you're the flowers in the garden you're the pages in my book i try to move on but i see you everywhere you're the bluebird in the birdbath and i feel you in the air i try to move on but there's really no escape you're the coral in the ocean you're the fish found in the lake i try to move on but i fear that it's too soon you're the ticking of the clock and the peeling paint that's in my room i try to move on but i feel you in the night you're the words i can't choke out and you're the shadow to my light you're the daisy chain i made you're the glasses that i lost and it really is a shame because i loved you quite a lot not a whisper, not a sound but i feel you all around

0

May 14, 2014

May 14, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC

zarab

all around

i try to move on but you're in every place i look you're the flowers in the garden you're the pages in my book i try to move on but i see you everywhere you're the bluebird in the birdbath and i feel you in the air i try to move on but there's really no escape you're the coral in the ocean you're the fish found in the lake i try to move on but i fear that it's too soon you're the ticking of the clock and the peeling paint that's in my room i try to move on but i feel you in the night you're the words i can't choke out and you're the shadow to my light you're the daisy chain i made you're the glasses that i lost and it really is a shame because i loved you quite a lot not a whisper, not a sound but i feel you all around

26

*Feathers fluttering Shine from heavens after rain Shy dove in birdbath*

0

Jul 6, 2016

Jul 6, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC

ormond

Lightness

*Feathers fluttering Shine from heavens after rain Shy dove in birdbath*

3

I cant deal with this anymore I cant be a puppet moving to her every command i cant do everything that she wants only in her benefit. does she look at other people? Does she care about others feelings? no. she never gives me the chance to explain. she never lets me in she never lets me out. it a continueum of fighting when we are together. neverending. like birds in a birdbath with one drop of water fighting till death. do us part. this is mine no wait that ones yours. theyre both mine she says. its all mine she says truth is it doesnt matter what i say wrong or right this void in my heart that will never be filled with love from my one and only sister. my void is whole and ready to except her but still she chooses to ignore to avoid to disreguard my every word in hopes to get her to understand. this is a simple minded animal with the brain of einstine feelings mean nothing, theres only room for fact. this is mine. no wait that ones yours. truth is nothing is mine because it will always be hers.

0

Mar 21, 2015

Mar 21, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC

skylar-peek

Just Take Everything, You've Already Won.

I cant deal with this anymore I cant be a puppet moving to her every command i cant do everything that she wants only in her benefit. does she look at other people? Does she care about others feelings? no. she never gives me the chance to explain. she never lets me in she never lets me out. it a continueum of fighting when we are together. neverending. like birds in a birdbath with one drop of water fighting till death. do us part. this is mine no wait that ones yours. theyre both mine she says. its all mine she says truth is it doesnt matter what i say wrong or right this void in my heart that will never be filled with love from my one and only sister. my void is whole and ready to except her but still she chooses to ignore to avoid to disreguard my every word in hopes to get her to understand. this is a simple minded animal with the brain of einstine feelings mean nothing, theres only room for fact. this is mine. no wait that ones yours. truth is nothing is mine because it will always be hers.

38

you trespass in my heart when my mind isn't looking hopping the low fence I thought you were art the roses I planted your slender fingers wrap and tear them from their bed I used to think you enchanting you dismember my apple tree smirking at the snap apples were your favourite my sweet delicate gemini and so i restart replacing the trampled flowers fixing the smashed birdbath in the garden of my heart

0

Jul 19, 2017

Jul 19, 2017 at 5:32 PM UTC

sbull

the garden

you trespass in my heart when my mind isn't looking hopping the low fence I thought you were art the roses I planted your slender fingers wrap and tear them from their bed I used to think you enchanting you dismember my apple tree smirking at the snap apples were your favourite my sweet delicate gemini and so i restart replacing the trampled flowers fixing the smashed birdbath in the garden of my heart

16

I was on the gurney Belching my guts out After eating surf and turf I'll fill you in I had whooping cough And a case of the Monday's I had worn out and overstayed my welcome My attempt to out eat the local human garbage disposal fell flat Now they put water from a birdbath in my drip bag I'll clue you in All the energy I could muster up was used to say "I'm off Wednesday, but it's Tuesday but it feels like Friday

0

Jul 4, 2014

Jul 4, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC

tommy-johnson

Give It To Me Straight Doc

I was on the gurney Belching my guts out After eating surf and turf I'll fill you in I had whooping cough And a case of the Monday's I had worn out and overstayed my welcome My attempt to out eat the local human garbage disposal fell flat Now they put water from a birdbath in my drip bag I'll clue you in All the energy I could muster up was used to say "I'm off Wednesday, but it's Tuesday but it feels like Friday

12

Not coming out Spring... Except through Your fingers ... Through Your eyes ... A rainbow, arched over rice fields frogs, Start croaking... I Become a mother ... In A bright Sunny day ... Illinois cornfield... too many fireflies at once too many fireflies... Oh my little black star! I know the grooves between your hands... Smelling you Among my bright motherly clothes Oh white and free lily, In my June ...! The butterfly’s flaming wings on the rim of the birdbath... You are the Honeysuckle, Blooming in the wind ... You are a fetus, You have not been In my femininity womb ... O my flesh! O my spring! And O beyond my cadaver...! Rainbows dancing Happily... In the glitter of your eyes ... Oh, my flower of the moon!

0

Mar 20, 2022

Mar 20, 2022 at 6:56 PM UTC

yasaman-johari

My cat is a butterfly from June🦋

Not coming out Spring... Except through Your fingers ... Through Your eyes ... A rainbow, arched over rice fields frogs, Start croaking... I Become a mother ... In A bright Sunny day ... Illinois cornfield... too many fireflies at once too many fireflies... Oh my little black star! I know the grooves between your hands... Smelling you Among my bright motherly clothes Oh white and free lily, In my June ...! The butterfly’s flaming wings on the rim of the birdbath... You are the Honeysuckle, Blooming in the wind ... You are a fetus, You have not been In my femininity womb ... O my flesh! O my spring! And O beyond my cadaver...! Rainbows dancing Happily... In the glitter of your eyes ... Oh, my flower of the moon!

37

*The falling snowflakes cover the birdbath. White and pure now the winter torrid garden. Gifted with the renewal of a state of grace. Like a confessed soul. The red candles flicker and glow in my window. Lighting the falling snowflakes a kaleidoscope in motion. Empty now your chair your pipe still unmoved. Remember how we loved the first snowfall my love.? Walking feeling the crunch like glass shards .beneath our winter boots. The gift of the full bright moon beaming on the boughs. Creating daylight at nighttime. All the pathways in your beloved garden ,Are filled with fresh snow. An even layer of purest white filling all the voids in the backyard. Just as you once filled all of mine.*

0

Sep 7, 2016

Sep 7, 2016 at 2:45 AM UTC

jude-kyrie

Reflections on a snowy night.

*The falling snowflakes cover the birdbath. White and pure now the winter torrid garden. Gifted with the renewal of a state of grace. Like a confessed soul. The red candles flicker and glow in my window. Lighting the falling snowflakes a kaleidoscope in motion. Empty now your chair your pipe still unmoved. Remember how we loved the first snowfall my love.? Walking feeling the crunch like glass shards .beneath our winter boots. The gift of the full bright moon beaming on the boughs. Creating daylight at nighttime. All the pathways in your beloved garden ,Are filled with fresh snow. An even layer of purest white filling all the voids in the backyard. Just as you once filled all of mine.*

29

purple petals in a birdbath - like rafts during the rain - bobbing briefly with each drop - like memories on the brain -

0

Aug 8, 2017

Aug 8, 2017 at 7:29 PM UTC

deanena-tierney

purple petals

purple petals in a birdbath - like rafts during the rain - bobbing briefly with each drop - like memories on the brain -

4