"curlew" poems
On the face of it, there isn't much about this bird
To stop me in my tracks.
Brown, oblivious, busy with the ground
It totters along on stilted legs
Probing among the frozen fields.
It's the name that's the trouble.
Childhood hours spent copying pictures
From the Readers' Digest Book of Birds
Call to mind the name, 'Curlew'.
In my house, though, birds had Scots names
and my dad, a linguistic David Bellamy
Urged us to conserve these rare words
or lose them forever.
Goldfinch? Gowdspink!
Starling? Stuckie!
Blue *** Umm...
But the undistinguished gentleman before me
was definitely a whaup.
Curlew or whaup?
Which is it to me?
The English of books
or the fading Scots, maybe closer
to the bird's wild home?
Textbook reality
or romantic poetry?
Or both - can the creature sit
in two states at once?
"Schrodinger's Curlew", I think with a smile.
("Schrodinger's Whaup!" bellows the bit of my dad
that lodges in my head.)
Here, under a cloud of my own breath
In the low winter light,
Neither seems quite adequate.
And then, untouched by my musings
The bird spreads its wings and lifts,
Naming itself, with a long, pure note
And my heart, in two states,
Leaps
and breaks.
Nov 26, 2010
Nov 26, 2010 at 12:03 AM UTC
O CURLEW, cry no more in the air,
Or only to the water in the West;
Because your crying brings to my mind
passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy hair
That was shaken out over my breast:
There is enough evil in the crying of wind.
3.5k
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on the roofs and walls
But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
3.3k
Once of a bride was I by a belle informed;
Who, on the very night of their honeymoon
Upon sighting her groom's dower, screamed
And would not let him in for his ***** boon,
Until she's taken thru the script the following
Morn by her parson's wife in cool counselling.
Many things in morals and etiquette do
Parents their children ever and anon teach
Except on this single unfolding issue
Will they falter to them plainly preach:
The act of marriage in its detailed image,
Cause it's found nay on their nurturing page.
An African mother will quiver her girl to lecture,
For instance, in the subject under review,
But will leave it to the Omniscient Nature
To instruct her like cry to a curlew.
So the bride's mom will not to her say:
This is how you should roll in the hay.
Neither will a father his son likewise tell
Explicitly of this duty--this too I know--
How to make his led-to-the-altar angel
Fly on cloud nine during their maiden show.
My pa never me of this nuptial scene told,
How in bed my lady I should stylishly hold.
Yet instinct, that great ancient teacher,
The green Adam and ****** Eve taught
On man's debut moment of ecstasy ever,
And did lead him to her piquant spot,
Whilst one another they caressed for affection,
Premiering for all couples conjugal copulation.
And the animals who do not the wisdom
Of man have, even every diminutive creature,
How each by divine smarts in their kingdom--
Like the fish in the sea of their rapture--
Do with themselves mate with none
Giving them tutorials nor showing them ****
To close this up where it had first started:
The *iyawo after the pending deed was done,
As it should betwixt man and wife, delighted
Was and with glowing warmth did thence burn
In the hearth of her *ókò with ultra joy,
Who at the beginning of performance was coy.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 4:43 AM UTC
I CRIED when the moon was mutmuring to the birds:
"Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will,
I long for your merry and tender and pitiful words,
For the roads are unending, and there is no place to my mind."
The honey-pale moon lay low on the sleepy hill,
And I fell asleep upon lonely Echtge of streams.
No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;
The boughs have withered because I have told them my, dreams.
I know of the leafy paths that the witches take
Who come with their crowns of pearl and their spindles of wool,
And their secret smile, out of the depths of the lake;
I know where a dim moon drifts, where the Danaan kind
Wind and unwind their dances when the light grows cool
On the island lawns, their feet where the pale foam gleams.
No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;
The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.
I know of the sleepy country, where swans fly round
Coupled with golden chains, and sing as they fly.
A king and a queen are wandering there, and the sound
Has made them so happy and hopeless, so deaf and so blind
With wisdom, they wander till all the years have gone by;
I know, and the curlew and peewit on Echtge of streams.
No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;
The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.
3k
The rockabilly Rock Doves are here
Along with the sensational singing Tree Sparrows
The Geese are getting it on
With the screeching Gulls
The Cockerels popped the cork hours ago
And the Starlings keep it going all day
Too many to mention names of the backing singers
But here we try Curlew Oyster catchers.....
And the chorus goes on.....and...on....
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 5:54 AM UTC
INDIGNANT at the fumbling wits, the obscure spite
Of our old paudeen in his shop, I stumbled blind
Among the stones and thorn-trees, under morning light;
Until a curlew cried and in the luminous wind
A curlew answered; and suddenly thereupon I thought
That on the lonely height where all are in God's eye,
There cannot be, confusion of our sound forgot,
A single soul that lacks a sweet crystalline cry.
2k
Somewhere seabirds pipe and bleat,
gathered on a dark low tide.
Shapes and shadows line the fleet,
cold and calling.
In the shore hide facing north
I'm focussing black ten-by-forties,
hunched against the wall for warmth;
the tide still falling.
Looking out, I'm looking back,
thirty years have ebbed away;
the boy, his joy, his haversac,
his notebook scrawling;
I see him, tremulous, wild-eyed,
among the plovers, curlew, knot,
a loosed dog shakes them and he flies,
the seawall salt sting cuts and dries;
there's no recalling.
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 6:55 PM UTC
"...What other sound could be like this?
Which other note could trespass on
to where the likes of tears are formed?
What else speaks so well
of wilderness, of loneliness?
Which alternate voice could manifest
this desolate deliverance?
Such trifling themes as life and death
are kept in Curlew's calls..."
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
Twilight falls across the bay
Soothes the worries of the day
As the shore adores the sea
Me for you and you for me
Stars appear across the sky
Whisper leaf and curlew cry
As the lock is for the key
Me for you and you for me
There is traffic, there is waste
Icy doubt and black disgrace
There are thunderclouds of fear
But they cannot touch us here
There are nightmares, there are wars
Broken hearts and slamming doors
There are phantoms of the mind
Here, we leave them all behind
Gentle darkness on the land
Beating hearts and touching hands
It's as simple as can be
Me for you, and you for me.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 7:02 AM UTC
Out of the vast marsh
plaintive grey curlew calling ~
my sister scolding me.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
Mr Curlew stutters complaints
just outside the window;
it will take another curlew
to understand its complexity
Being Human I can only guess
because its outside my window
it must be something to do with me
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
It is calming here where the banks slip slowly down
to the river side
and the tide is on the turn,
and though it yearns to reach its sea,it takes time to whisper the secrets of longevity to me.
A curlew knew me too as I sat here,but
it flew away holding the secrets that it would not say.
She returns to me along the river and in each tide I'll be
that much closer to the
sea.
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 6:14 AM UTC
ah ha its the Sunrise
Mr Curlew was stuttering about
doing a fancy stuttering flight
while loudly stuttering his song notes;
Maybe he was telling me I should have been in bed
hours ago... yesterday in fact... or a least last night
which is nearly all daylight
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
for Dennis Lee
By the river
at night
burned stubble
of sugar cane
feathers the air with a lick of caramel
a quiet earth underscores
crocus and chorusing cricket
as curlew weep their distant sonorous calls
********* the stillness
we pluck a string of starlight
to pull a gentle breeze closer
we tug on orbiting moons
in the darkness of deep
we become motionless
intent to watch worlds
and enter the symphony
MChallis @ 2015
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
Tranquility rules, the cool air is still:
spellbound, I look and drink my fill,
as morning awakening fills the air.
With my eyes opened wide, I stare
at pleasures offered and given free,
which bounteous Nature awards me!
The Meadowlark, soaring happily
sings her song of joy. A rhapsody
to serenade her fledglings, snug below,
whilst the rising sun, with golden glow,
urges the stirring morning breeze,
to tease awake the dormant trees.
Two Mourning Doves, bill and coo,
planning their day and what they’ll do.
Cattle lowing in the meadow afar,
bid farewell to the last morning star.
A skein of geese honk high overhead,
as towards the north, they swiftly head.
Whilst a Red Cardinal proudly prances
in and out of the evergreen branches,
entertaining his mate, brooding eggs,
a lone Grey Heron on stilt-like legs,
seeks a snack in the riverside reeds,
unaware a frog hides in nearby weeds!
Sheep bleat as the shepherd’s dog,
presages their coming out of the fog.
The Carrion Crow, with raucous cry,
warns a ***** furtively passes by.
Ducks on the pond, splash and dive,
in grand celebration, of being alive.
The sun advises, the hour grows late,
as does a Curlew to its watching mate.
But I am most reluctant to depart,
and leave these scenes close to my heart.
So great is the reward, that surrounds,
when I behold the beauty that abounds!
Rhymer. April 29th, 2018.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 6:44 AM UTC
Stormy petrel albatross curlew skylark martin swift swallow robin sparrow raven crow falcon heron stork eagle vulture budgie parrot gull penguin puffin hawk
Birds
And poets
Flutter
And trill
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 7:06 AM UTC
How soft the wind sighs
Over perfumed purple bush
And songs of the bees
Breaks the lonely quiet shush
I am alone, adrift, marooned
In an endless sea of untamed heath
Shadowed by ancient crags
As they rise up high like broken teeth
Life abounds in the gorse and heather
And a curlew cries out its haunting cry
My heart aches in wonder as I watch
As it soars under a clear open sky
But I am not wanted, nor needed
In this place, this frozen time
But my presence will be suffered
By a land that will never be mine
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 5:16 PM UTC
The long night have been moving burdensomely and dense
a stone curlew has been marking the rhythm and counting its hours
this dark early morning have sunk me in a deep silence
and filled me with profound and intimate thoughts
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 12:06 PM UTC
Shade into shadow as eventide's darkness
Slips to the call of the curlew by night,
Days amble by in a curtain of sameness
Taken for granted until there's a fright.
Shade into Shadow and thence into blackness
Transition freezes to polar like pall,
Abruptly the curtain curtails the performance
As actors retreat at a horror recall
Shade into shadow in depths descended
A shaking the head as cogniscence takes heed,
Bloodlessly blasphemy curdles the heartstrings
Wrending tomorrow's tendence to bleed.
Shade into shadow as battle lines rendered
Mustering courage, embracing my wife,
Clustering close to the portends that matter
Shedding the superficialities of life.
Shade into shadow and thence into sunlight
Girding the soul with the grace of the day,
Meeting the foe at the edge of the abyss
Hurling him down with his claws of clay.
Shade into shadow extending before me
Light in the lingering tones of the eve,
Positivities beacon is beckoning
Seeking the smile of tomorrow's reprieve.
[email protected]
3 May 2024
May 2, 2024
May 2, 2024 at 11:46 PM UTC