"bluebird" poems
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the ****** and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to ***** up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?
52k
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!
It is not a color.
It is summer!
It is the wind on a willow,
the lap of waves, the shadow
under a bush, a bird, a bluebird,
three herons, a dead hawk
rotting on a pole—
Clear yellow!
It is a piece of blue paper
in the grass or a threecluster of
green walnuts swaying, children
playing croquet or one boy
fishing, a man
swinging his pink fists
as he walks—
It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots
in the ditch, moss under
the ****** of the carrail, the
wavy lines in split rock, a
great oaktree—
It is a disinclination to be
five red petals or a rose, it is
a cluster of birdsbreast flowers
on a red stem six feet high,
four open yellow petals
above sepals curled
backward into reverse spikes—
Tufts of purple grass spot the
green meadow and clouds the sky.
7.2k
the wild suburban dogs
eat
the leftovers of a tom cat
outside
my apartment door--
the neighbors gone,
they must've done wrong,
the cops keep asking me
where they went--
a bluebird lands
on
a bent limb,
no song to sing
just worms to slurp,
a nest to think about,
and a debt
to me--
for the undeserved attention
I grant.
May 8, 2011
May 8, 2011 at 7:54 PM UTC
In lonely moments
I stroll the waning memories
when love pure smiled blissfully
deep within a fawning heart
a wistful melody arises untainted
like a steaming enslaved passion
breathlessly released
unrestrained,..
evident
as the pressed and dried flowers
cuddled between life's ardent petaled pages,
bookmarks of the heart
traces of the wild bouquets
that often soothingly caress’d
the energizing tingles
inflaming a tantalizing touch
the yearning empty voids
feverishly undressed,
traced in the hidden sands
of unexplored oceans..
though time and distance
make the bereft heart grow helplessly fonder,
memories fade softly as the summer breeze befalls,
as gentle feather’d touch
the evanescent sunset afterglow
where the earth and sky align
the dimming of the day
loving can heal
the poet’s bleeding words,
loving can mend your soul ―
the perennial dawning of an
unpromised new day
will someday come again
bequeathed like the bluebird’s mirthful song
to bring forth nascent wild flowers’ blossoming petals
flourishing in the meadow of my heart
Someone you used to know
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC
Big netted leaves falling from tall Saag trees,
Walking with me on a curvy road,
Slowly disappearing into the hills,
Cool breeze and the bluebird that sing along,
The bells in a cow's neck grazing by,
A black korku kid dancing on its tunes,
His mother washing clothes on the river,
As the water played with little white stones,
The lush green wheat fields spreading across horizons,
And the yellowish huts below the blue skies,
An old man calls me and offers some rotis,
No ,Thank you Sir, But I've got miles to cover,
Till I meet the chilly cold night !
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 7:05 AM UTC
Make them suffer, fall in love
Words dripping with emotion
You're the singer....alchemist
Words and Music are your potion
Make them cry, laugh, and sing
Make them react to every line
Stir the *** some....Alchemist
On a tightrope made of rhyme
One chance is all you get
Working without a net
No one will hear you fall
You're tightrope is made of words
On stage at the Bluebird
You've only one chance...that's all
Write your thoughts out, share your dreams
Do it in three four time
Put it to music, bring them along
On your musical tightrope line
Go out and sell yourself, nightly
And make them feel what is inside
Remember, you're up on a tightrope
And each night, is a completely new ride
One chance is all you get
Working without a net
No one will hear you fall
You're tightrope is made of words
On stage at the Bluebird
You've only one chance...that's all
There's no support but words and music
At the Bluebird, you're on your own
Make them a part of you, do the best you can do
Make them all family, sing to them each...alone
Don't forget don't look down, just focus on the light
Come on now, Alchemist, stir the *** some more
Make them all cry again, make them remember when
Sing from the tightrope and they'll fall in love once more
One chance is all you get
Working without a net
No one will hear you fall
You're tightrope is made of words
On stage at the Bluebird
You've only one chance...that's all
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
We sighing said, "Our Pan is dead;
His pipe hangs mute beside the river
Around it wistful sunbeams quiver,
But Music's airy voice is fled.
Spring mourns as for untimely frost;
The bluebird chants a requiem;
The willow-blossom waits for him;
The Genius of the wood is lost."
Then from the flute, untouched by hands,
There came a low, harmonious breath:
"For such as he there is no death;
His life the eternal life commands;
Above man's aims his nature rose.
The wisdom of a just content
Made one small spot a continent
And turned to poetry life's prose.
"Haunting the hills, the stream, the wild,
Swallow and aster, lake and pine,
To him grew human or divine,
Fit mates for this large-hearted child.
Such homage Nature ne'er forgets,
And yearly on the coverlid
'Neath which her darling lieth hid
Will write his name in violets.
"To him no vain regrets belong
Whose soul, that finer instrument,
Gave to the world no poor lament,
But wood-notes ever sweet and strong.
O lonely friend! he still will be
A potent presence, though unseen,
Steadfast, sagacious, and serene;
Seek not for him -- he is with thee."
4.6k
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!
It is not a color.
It is summer!
It is the wind on a willow,
the lap of waves, the shadow
under a bush, a bird, a bluebird,
three herons, a dead hawk
rotting on a pole—
Clear yellow!
It is a piece of blue paper
in the grass or a threecluster of
green walnuts swaying, children
playing croquet or one boy
fishing, a man
swinging his pink fists
as he walks—
It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots
in the ditch, moss under
the ****** of the carrail, the
wavy lines in split rock, a
great oaktree—
It is a disinclination to be
five red petals or a rose, it is
a cluster of birdsbreast flowers
on a red stem six feet high,
four open yellow petals
above sepals curled
backward into reverse spikes—
Tufts of purple grass spot the
green meadow and clouds the sky.
4.5k
Do not run from the sun, the bluebird said,
Your feet will unravel, leaving nothing but thread.
Then lend me your wings , she said in reply,
And we'll fly to a place where the shadows don't lie.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
resuming vogon poetry
altering website logos
pretending everyone cares
playing "east hastings"
asphyxiating well-nigh denouement
depicting twitter status
obfuscating coincident deletions
translating from Sḵwx̱wú7mesh
assuring Sḵwx̱wú7mesh exists
painting skwiḵw's mother?
decrying micropolitical maelstrom
imbibing fireball fountain
inundating lexical foofaraw
crafting poetic wonders
desiring other mediums
remaining practically invisible
ending internet-only depression
drafting noetic blunders
requesting astute clique
blazing perilous trail
aging ominous grisaille
depicting kmart realism
seeking darker groups
increasing pre-weekend laughter
appropriating communist symbols
making lone chuckle
offending worldwide communists
colonizing hello poetry
colonizing parallel universe
relaxing e-migration policies
пить чистую водку
photographing abduction scene
¿losing consistent format?
increasing bluebird insignia
avoiding frivolous legalities
striking astraphobic comments
assuming near-universal automation
lowering latent inhibition
traversing oneiric plane
laxwadding afebrile loodies
wallscaping pitchsourced chthonicities
closing one-star conveniences
sharing alien-looking alphabet
writing system downtimes
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
It must be two in the morning.
it's cold. Dark. The bleeding is relentless.
My fault.
I didn't ask for any of this
but in the end it is my fault alone.
I try to breathe.
how?
I can't.
it feels like
liquid nitrogen.
not oxygen.
I need air.
can't breathe.
chest collapsing.
I wake up.
two ten.
still dark out.
got a text
at ten something
from my Bluebird of Peace.
a list of inappropriate but still humorous jokes.
some are cringey,
but I still laugh or smile.
and so guilt and shame are washed from my mind,
as I debate running
to the bathroom
to wash the cold sweat off
that has drenched my skin
and clothes.
I keep smelling iron
though I know it isn't there.
the things I have seen
and the things I have lost
like to haunt me.
I would like to be a ghost.
to haunt them
in return.
instead I breathe in.
I breathe out.
I change clothes,
stripping down entirely to put on shorts and a t-shirt.
I put on his hoodie.
Wait for warmth.
Hold my old stuffed lion.
send my Bluebird
a text.
I need some type of noise,
but all I hear is snoring
and the dripping of a faucet.
I am glad
for instances like these
that I do not
live alone.
at least this time
i didn't cry myself awake.
one day
it will be different.
"That part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail."
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 2:44 AM UTC
She fabricates variance in the same picturesque sky
Mauling two birds with one stone-cold, self-sustaining lie
If happiness blots itself upon perspective,
then I was merely one musing of a momentarily hung canvas
dangling dull under the noose of your
cautiously composed independence
-
"Independence"
she doth protest
While in dependence,
she doth ingest
She flees towards East evermore, infatuated under the intoxication of dissimilar skies, ceasing to remember that all worlds eventually become spherical.
We, abreast, left the nest;
I, digress, detest the West.
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
Go to sleep little bluebird
Close your eyes now little bluebird
Go to sleep now little bluebird
Sleep tight
The moon has kissed your brow
The stars have sung your lullaby
The clouds have tucked you in
It’s time to dream
Go to sleep little bluebird
Close your eyes now little bluebird
Go to sleep now little bluebird
And dream
The fairies are watching
You’re safe now little bluebird
Go with the sandman and dream
Go to sleep little bluebird
Close your eyes now little bluebird
Go to sleep now little bluebird
Sweet dreams
Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 8:42 AM UTC
Once upon a monkey
In a tree so high
Lived a little baby blue bird
As blue as the sky.
The monkey oh so limber
And the bluebird oh so blue
Lived together nicely
In a tree made for two.
So if you ever see a bluebird
Perched upon a monkey's shoulder
Just know it's only temporary
Until bluebird's a little older.
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC
I last rode this road in Summer
When the light was as now;
Long, flat and mellow
But by the hour not the season
The trees back then still wore clothes
Green, perhaps liver-spotted with yellow
Now I watch them tangle their naked arms
And the world turns its face away in shame,
Longing for its chastised summer
The wheat field is grey scrub
An old bristling beard
And my bike tyres trace its edge
Like fingers on the jaw of our grandfather
And the watercolour wind
Rinses my knuckle bones
And then bites them open
They don’t bother to bleed
They’ve been chewed too many times
As the clouds wash in,
Black with frostbite,
I bite my winter scarf
And sing to it of bluebirds
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 3:35 AM UTC
Lazy me.
Still in last night's Rust Never Sleeps T and boxers. Unshaven. Hair pointed in cardinal directions while blue sky frowns down upon me for smokin' up its air.
Mockingbirds playing the guess me game again. Bluebird splashes in the bath giving me a subtle hint.
Mr. Cardinal and Blue Grosbeak
compliment each other on their choice
of colors.
Yellow and Orange daylilies compete
in their own beauty pageant while hibiscus shares her flowers with bees.
Humminbird humming a happy song.
My sweet mutt Daisy is embarrassed to be sitting out here beside me.
Time to go in and let nature bask again.
r ~ 6/15/14
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
play me an air
a bluebird lament
something meant for the breathing
to remember
all i want to hear
is a soft melody
sad as the winter
still on the wind
let your bow waltz
on the strings of my heart
let the sound
of your fiddle
set sail
play me an air
like the bluebird did
while i dance
with the snow
in my hair.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 10:05 PM UTC
I believe in romance,
in love
and souls
and spirits.
in everyday, everything
a leaf can move
can touch
can grow.
I believe in forever with you
a forever with
you in the nest
of a bluebird.
love, the bluebird sings.
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 9:32 PM UTC
Nature makes its own decisions
It decides who lives or dies
Like the hunger of a common bluebird
Who's driven by her baby's cries
Now even the housefly will do the same
Driven by its hunger, they seek
Trying its best to avoid its doom
By way of the bluebird's beak
Somewhere soon their paths will cross
And the strong will devour the weak
Nature's design, cannot be broken
And the housefly's future looks bleak
Then out of the sky, lightning strikes
As the bluebird falls to the ground
A naked power line decides her fate
And the housefly's feast, has been found
It's funny to see how nature works
Pondering while wondering why
Things are nothing like they appear
Like the bluebird and the fly
Apr 28, 2010
Apr 28, 2010 at 5:20 AM UTC
One lone bluebird begins its flight.
One lone bluebird gone to great heights.
Beautiful wings, strong and hollow
All the other bluebirds obediently follow
Surrounded by others high in the sky,
One lone bluebird destined to fly.
High above the trees, wings spread to soar,
One lone bluebird in search of something more.
And with bluebird friends all around,
One lone bluebird feeling quite down.
Suddenly, the bluebird is all alone.
Desperately trying to make it back home.
Wings withdrawn and perched on a tree,
Covered in darkness, difficult to see.
In the silence, the bluebird finds bliss.
In the silence, inner thoughts persist.
One lone bluebird missing its friends.
One lone bluebird fearful of the end.
Eerily quiet in utter solitude,
One lone bluebird has a change in mood.
An important lesson was learned that day,
One lone bluebird had lost its way.
Though it may be easier to hide,
Life is better with other birds by its side.
One lone bluebird destined to fly,
Surrounded by others high in the sky.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
I heard the window
shatter into memories
of dead men and the past
the bluebird flies in
and rips me to shreds
take me home
I beckon
my time here away
I'm fighting
I am escaping
escaping Alcatraz
lacking the limbs
to conform
to the wants of the bluebird
to the needs of the bluebird
gone, gone, gone
drag me away
because you did it
life just faded away
my role-model,
the average Joe
That's me
thrown into society
I'm thrown into ******* society
let me die, bluebird
let me die
eat you're ******* heart out
(I am free)
I am not free bluebird
you're controlling me bluebird
I'm locked in solitary
to conform
to conform
to conform
to conform
to conform
to conform
to conform
to conform
to conform
to conform
to conform
to conform
to ******* conform
you are ALL
so far from being free
I'm losing it
but this is me
we're all dead
because we are all the same
bluebird
you watch me
you watch me go crazy
stay there and sing your song
and maybe after a while
I won't think you're wrong
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC
flesh smirks cautiously
silent beehives squelching elk
leaps glumly, mules snarl
bluebird builds, rigid
foundlings disappear lamely
incarnations peck
raw conjurers acts
devious shady agile
rosemary boasts, stare
starflower hovers
depression gives birth snidely
harps romping mustang
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
~
*black tie, bare feet,
a walk through dandelions,
following the scent of wine
and mirthful promise
phosphenes and paresthesia
—slow dazzle motif;
the bluebird of happiness
echoes in a shallow bay;
pieces of places to claim as theirs:
moth wings, flower petals,
and blades of grass
seduced by eventide,
unhurried mouth(s), lips searching
and soft, all words seem to have
a few extra vowels;
sudden ubiquity
to collisions and slippages,
cultivating suggestive shapes
from aleatory arrays
of objects and forms
in the surf they mingle and link,
emancipating adrenaline;
they love like they were
water for life*
~
Apr 17, 2023
Apr 17, 2023 at 5:11 PM UTC
Hey bluebird
Fly away from here
You are too small
To weather this storm
Hey bluebird
Will you fly away from here
The sky is blue as you are
And I’ve locked your cage in fear
Hey bluebird
How are you singing
When your wings are clipped
And you can no longer fly?
Hey bluebird
Your colours are fading
Your feathers are shades of grey
I just can’t see blue any more
Hey bluebird
You’ve weathered the storm
Damaged and faded you’re singing
Maybe I should’ve just listened to you.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 7:53 PM UTC
Three bright yellow stars on a little box of matches,
in a kitchen in Reykjavik.
When lit, they flare up with uncommon energy and brightness.
This little box of matches is from Sweden, like your people.
Having said it badly once,
I want to tell you what you have taught me.
How joy and strength, honesty and humor, create sanity.
Goodness is a fragrance you exude, like soft brown bread.
Green shoots of grass, and leaves,
are brighter because you have told me about them.
Once, sitting together in a park,
a real-live bluebird settled onto a telephone wire in front of us.
A metaphor paying a call, making a personal visit.
You brought that bluebird to us.
I know it.
Because you are my beloved best friend,
a Swedish form of light.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC