"chirpy" poems
Juliet, your Juliet.
I grew out of her.
She was all dreamy, and fabled.
She was brave enough to love you.
She was brave enough to be crumpled to shreds yet fake a smile flawlessly.
She grew on you.
Juliet, your Juliet.
I grew out of her.
She was graceful and too kind to be true.
She was the daisy of your garden, where flowers weren't just a few.
She loved sunshine as much as the misty moon.
She was ravishingly rhythmic. Forming melodies out of those midnight stars,
adding beats and verses to your mundane mornings.
Your Juliet, your Daisy, your sanguine Sestina
all of them. Yet, nothing better than a reverie.
Juliet, your Juliet.
I grew out of her.
She was all chirpy and consoling.
Solace was what made her.
Her love was fire, worth burning for.
At times, her eyes form glaciers,
arctic and numb.
At times, she feels worn out and ready to drop.
But, Juliet's audacious to hold on tight yet, taken down by you. Remember, she grew on you.
Juliet, your Juliet.
I grew out of her.
She was delicate but humorous.
Compassion knit her soul together.
You tell her, she is all you ever wanted and is grateful for.
But, the woman lying next to you hears the same.
She was a writer and left you one.
Juliet, your Juliet.
Not anymore.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 5:57 AM UTC
History of the homeless,
Society does not bless,
So unlike birds homeless,
Flying afar and so free,
Nestling into any tree,
Waking up so chirpy.
Not like humans homeless,
Society does not bless,
All these homeless young,
Did they get enough hugs?
Or was it too many drugs?
Or ****** abuse of their youth?
What's the history of the homeless--
Society does not always bless.......
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 2:19 AM UTC
Peacocks dance and trees sway,
to the sweet songs of the birds that briskly fly away,
Wood's speckled with the golden , summer blooms.
fresh green carpets take away the glooms.
Reminiscing in the beauty of the pure water streams,
Nature is at play creating picturesque dreams.
Sweet Nector on the dew dropped poppies,
buzz of the bee's,
the charm of the humming birds nesting in style .
Oh! Nature is at play all the while.
Sunray's penetrating through dark clouds,
Colourful little birdies, chirpy, synchronised , repetative and aloud .
Crispy mornings under clear blue skies, nature is at play as the time flies.
Basking in the beauty of God's creations,
a life full of positive aspirations,
Lo ! behold ! Do we notice the nature's beauty , as we go in life performing our duty ?
Take a pause!
remember your purpose and cause.
Breathe in the fresh air,
Admire the surroundings,
Sit back ,relax and smile,
as nature is at play all the while.
© Mrunalini .D. Nimbalkar
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 4:12 AM UTC
small, chirpy bird,
flitting under the dome of air port,
comes down, nonchalantly partakes,
omelette from my plate.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
A chirpy little bird
A notion reaffirmed
From egg to box to room
You preen your emerald plume
I love you, Roombird
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
Her name is Sapling,
a tree with calm and quiet chirpy personality
She lives her life the way it is.
When one a day comes,
Zephyr, the wind,
suddenly caress her soul moderately
Sapling can do nothing
Nothing, to stop it from coming
and devouring itself.
Why can't Sapling do anything?
A choice to fight over oblivious Zephyr
from hurting her,
from how Zephyr slaps her leaves
and sometimes even letting it fall to the ground
like an ordinary *******
from how Zephyr swung Sapling's stems,
making it dance like it had just agreed to
but it never did.
Sapling stays calm in every idyllic second of her life
but that was before Zephyr came,
now, she was fuming
for Zephyr had caused great downfall to Sapling's life
Every little thing Zephyr had done to her
meant a lot to her.
Yet, there is only one thing Sapling had not known:
Zephyr had no choice either.
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 11:14 AM UTC
i must be some sort of permanently exhausted pigeon;
claws clinging to the telephone wire
drearily blinking my way through
the morning meeting of the aerial acrobatic society.
i am a seagull swarmed
amongst the chirpy conjecture
of these early birds;
and my soul caws an honesty,
a wail, a howl, the truth.
i am a tainted swan
grittily paddling myself through the marsh
we call this world,
a lone observer of the acrobats,
the stickiness of my feet keeping me
flightless.
and you are a swallow;
redbull wings migrate you to warmer climates.
you hear the seagulls
but listen to the pigeons.
you notice the swan
but her murky shallows are too icy
for your liking.
and you are a chicken;
blind beyond your own free-range vicinity.
you catch the pigeons as jet planes,
and the seagull's whisper is alien.
you don't know miss swan.
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 8:02 AM UTC
You, photo sharing
pop-up rhymester
a one-day glory
for a full-time jester?
is that all you’ve got?
exulting in adulation
of ‘up thumb’ display
painstaking toil
for a chirpy convey
much bother for naught
go away from that evil
a rectangular cage
a duality so curbing
too daunting to assuage
surely, not asking a lot!
banter a bit, out of the cage
break her reckless grind
a cursed double-life
no cage to hide behind!
it wasn’t what she thought!
mother’s day isn’t just a day
it is your lifetime, borrowed
moment by moment
nourished and hallowed
a vicarious life – don’t let it rot!
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
*Life is worthwhile when you see the sunrise
Listening to the chirpy birds making merry
Glinting dewdrops are nature’s solitaire
Pirouetting on the edges with nimble feet
Sun rays kissing life into all the half sleepy heart
Waking up to the fresh aroma of pristine dawn
Walking on bare grass to get a strong foothold
Feeling one with nature embracing me tight
It’s a symphony of the grandest orchestra
Starting our day with a pledge in our heart
In making this day all the more worthwhile*
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
My hobbies are stargazing and daydreaming.
I’m nothing but a chirpy, cheerful chum.
At times, you’ll find me – like a preacher – scheming,
Thinking of ways to make my kingdom come.
You’re free to think I’m careless, airheaded.
I’m fine with being called a loafer or a crank.
My one true north – I’ll end up where I’m heading.
Not every verse I write is snowy blank.
I’m all about forgiveness and acceptance.
Live and let live – I swear by these words.
Not looking for your ‘yes’ or your repentance –
I’m here to make a change, a better world.
I’ve taken up crochet and rubbernecking.
There’s little in this life that I won’t do.
In limbo you shall find me trekking.
In vain you’ll try to see my point of view.
I wonder if you’ll ever truly know me.
I ask myself if that is what I want.
For now, just picture I’m your darling homie.
High five, hop in and kindly play along.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 6:38 PM UTC
Rare Misty mornings
Birds chirpy pecking happy
Worms stay up longer
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 4:42 AM UTC
We just have a few months to go
a few more juvenile fights to handle
a few more days of sneaking out of the class
and for the first time
I don't want the bell to ring early
As each second passes
the dress seems to crease
the dust settles
layer by layer
fighting its way through
it's the last time I'd wear my favorite clothes
The pencils start to shorten
erasers still get stolen
those notebooks still have our chats
the green board carries your creativity
benches would be my favorite mini bed
I promised myself
as I lay my hands on it
My hippocampus reached near to full
lacrimal glands prepare itself
tongue waiting to utter words I never spoke
one last time
salivary glands would miss it recess job
coming from the ground
after playing in the sun
sudoriferous glands loved those strokes of light
I could hear the radiating, chirpy , & shuddering voices
coming from the corridor
happy faces, sad faces, frowned faces,crying faces
promising each other to stay in touch -
half lies
the emotional fools who believed it
I remember crying on my first day
as soon as I stepped
I felt like running away
who knew this would become my favorite destination?
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 2:36 PM UTC
Light drizzles gently brushing on my cheeks
Misty pitter-patters
A butterfly flutters
A solitary stroll in the orchard of mystique
The dewy grass glitters
I am Mother Nature’s daughter
I saunter in the womb of the cherry orchard
Light-hearted tip taps
The squirrels take their catnaps
Gaily skipping under the falling blossoms
Spinning with laughter
Time is not a factor
From a distance, a pianist plays a chirpy tune
The jazzy anthem
A tune of welcome
Arm with passion, I caper windward
One with the flowers and trees
The birds and the bees
Mild winds gently combing my tresses
Soft, rhythmic strokes
My senses they provoke
Then reality came in a soothing ring
My baby calls
Oh, my busy, silly goofball!
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 4:54 PM UTC
*On and off
Flickering grey
Chirpy feelings
Parked at bay
Unalloyed devotion
Just for one
Pushes you
Into oblivion
After a lot
Hue and cry
When you learn
The lesson why
Transition from
Tears to smile
Bubbles the senses
Though takes a while*
Bharti
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 5:12 AM UTC
hey, ma. it's been a while.
i don't know if you remember
the sound of my chirpy voice
anymore.
it still comes up, every now and again;
when i'm baked beyond my brains
when i had just cracked the rankest pun
when i'm tangled in a boy's arms, lost -
lost. just like you ma.
i wonder where your mind takes you
when the ringing in your ears doesn't seem to go.
when you dissociate into the otherworld, and
the lashes of your
third eye sweep me away from your vision.
i thought the power of the universe was
supposed to be
abundant.
yet i have lost you to the vortex of your gods -
the same ones that leave
only the wind
to rock me to sleep.
ma,
i am pockmarked with your bad habits.
i lose touch with reality
myself, looking for the warmth of your
recognition.
i guess space is too large
for me to find your meditative corner.
or perhaps
i'm just looking in the wrong spaces.
space is nice because you have
no weight on your shoulders.
i miss the feeling of having
no weight on my shoulders.
when i grow up, ma
i want to be just like you.
lost.
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 9:46 PM UTC
The cold air seeped down with no heart,
What was once a sea of beauty and life,
Now had been turned to a grave of white and death,
The city had almost all but stopped living too.
Morning turned to night and yet all was still bright,
Panicking for necessities like bread and milk,
As if they were a commodity like gold and silk,
There was no lease from this grip of icy might.
The Robins so proud with their coats of glorious red,
Out playing like children on a canal iced bed,
Scattering wild seed around upon the snow covered ground,
Bobbing along like cheeky cherubim gathering with a chirpy sound.
A man stands in the not so far distance,
Stood outside clearing snow as it's finally stopped,
I ask and offer myself to give some assistance,
Is seems the final flakes have now dropped.
A path slowly appears as do others now congregate,
Friends, brothers, sister's all one with a common goal,
Time rolls on but we persist as it gets late,
A United effort from one and all like a heart to a soul.
(C) Grant Dickson 21/03/2018
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 8:09 PM UTC
In semitones it sang its morning song:
With perfect intonation did it sound
Each pitch-pure shaft of tone to richly confound
The staccato, choppy, chirpy, cheepy throng.
After this phrase of notes sung clear and strong,
A cadence-closing burst of trill unwound,
Shaken out taut and cinching, fast and round,
That lasted to the pure tones doubly long.
More beautiful singing I have never heard,
And yet was I inclined to doubt its worth.
I silenced my mind and listened to the earth,
And this was in the singing of the bird:
If all the world will be the way it is,
Be thankful for the bird that sings like this.
^ ^
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
Clear water, drinking in - earth soaked
purple violets and fiddle head ferns
cold bulbs and garden tubers, buds and flowers unfurl.
The mating clash of birds, their chirpy squawks and words
an aromatic lilac trance in a variance of blue.
Grass and toes, cool and cold
northern winds of spring.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 6:17 PM UTC
two little budgies both of them were blue
swinging two and fro just like budgies do
up and down the ladder they just love play
so chirpy and so cheerful so happy bright and gay
tapping on a bell just to here it ring
i just love to watch them and the joy they bring
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 11:23 AM UTC
Best are those whom you meet by chance
when you cared less and free from heart
everyone stood equal and no one apart
it was easy moving with flow with no draft
through the happy and through the sad
from chirpy loud to silence
you withstood by me
immense patience bottled inside you had
nothing did I leave to not turn you upset
out of mind and puzzled in my own quest
like a rock in cold and night
I am indebted with your gestures of not taking a flight
I have never seen discontentment in you
you had been so constant in my life
Words fall short to explain somethings
so I'll just say a Thanks to you
Manisha
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 6:50 AM UTC