"egrets" poems
A blue black cloud, all over me is written JOY
in the script of vapor, dense, moist and meaningful,
I am light, like a feather, the breeze is in love with me for that,
I love his gentle persuasion to waft, move about, explore..
and then--ravaged by wind my love changes direction.
I love freedom more than anything, but forgot limits, hover
now, I am no more attached to the green hills, they are jealous,
far above them am I, untouched by their vainglorious pride,
I am not hard-hearted, parched fields send shivers of lightning
break me in to thousand smaller pieces, scatter around.
My love for this earth is kindled by the sights unfurling below
all the egrets, cormorants, storks and herons of great magnificence,
those kind hearted friends that fly with me often are in pain
like the farmers, there isn't enough water for anything.
A cloud is a thought, inspired by the love for mother earth
by the ocean I am gifted to the breeze, to tour around,
on many lands fell my shade, found life in all varieties,
now is the time to be kind at heart, melt, fall in torrents.
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 11:06 AM UTC
Out the window the trees go by fast.
Never having the chance to know one
even by the looks of it.
The houses pass by quick and
the people in them never move.
There is no time to see what's on their televisions.
Drive by the Dennisville Lake and my eyes
are fixed on the egrets drying in the branches
of the trees at least half a mile out.
There's a beach in the distance where
the sun sets and it's more than picturesque.
Years ago, this is where I first learned to ice skate,
*but now the lakes blocked off with guardrails,
I'm on a busy road, and there's no turning back.*
-s.r.pikulinski
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 11:33 PM UTC
Once as I travelled through a quiet evening,
I saw a pool, jet-black and mirror-still.
Beyond, the slender paperbarks stood crowding;
each on its own white image looked its fill,
and nothing moved but thirty egrets wading -
thirty egrets in a quiet evening.
Once in a lifetime, lovely past believing,
your lucky eyes may light on such a pool.
As though for many years I had been waiting,
I watched in silence, till my heart was full
of clear dark water, and white trees unmoving,
and, whiter yet, those thirty egrets wading.
5.6k
ponces! nancies! veritable egrets of men!
people pleasing anti-charismatic animals
philistines, every one of them,
everyone else
a curse upon their forebears and a curse upon their goings-on
terrible business, that
the world should be filled with boundary pushing eccentrics, that is progress!
a plague upon normalcy, a plague upon stagnancy
uninteresting, dying off, done
ugh!
greatness can not be expected of all but at least an attempt should be made
how else will we overcome, will we build our utopia?
what use is MY struggle when others are defeated in making a move past the remote
television is for swine
rots your brain and morals
I've swell morals, just look at them
my morals reach to the moon
my morals are so swell I should run the country
my morals aren't two millenia old scriptures written by the seers of goat-tenders
my morals are modern, they are sleek and well dictated, they represent the future
my morals defy the past, my morals create new paradigms
why, you could say my morals defy all of traditionalism
and a curse upon tradition!
who ever learned from the past
history is rife with naught but sufferance
forwards is the only direction
forwards is revealed only to me
my ideals aglow with the lumine of the future
they are entrenched in idealism
me and mine, we are ideal
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 1:30 AM UTC
I'm flying away from winter
to feast with palms and bougainvillea
egrets, pelicans, banyan trees
assuring my enraptured ease
I may be silent for awhile...
may return with sunmelt style
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
Sinner
What have I done to my world?
Egrets
Pelicans
Whales
Are you diving into the plume
A 10 mile depth of black hell?
Are you in another dimension now?
Have you given up on this world of
Easy living?
I am guilty.
I work too much and care less
As one superficial lifestyle Blends into the other
Money seems like security blanket
It is Not.
My land is covered in a part of me that dies
As the sea spits up the overdose of
Consumerism.
Each time I feel the powerlessness of hope fade
I take my plastic water bottle and throw it into a
Bin labeled
RECYCLE…
HA!
Plastic
OIL OIL OIL…
PLASTIC
******* Hell,
I bet oil is in my food chain somewhere
A box that makes it easy to cook in
A packing tool to deliver me the goods
OIL OIL OIL
Saturated Guilt
I feel like a harlot
A sinner
A part of something I cannot stop
I don’t want my world to look like this
Stop Me.
From the desire for convenience
Let me take living down a notch or two
Let me see with a part of me that is lost
THIS IS A CRY IN
(the
sledge of redemption)
I remember my body gave me another chance
When I filled it with poisons that made me feel good (you know what they are)
Will you do the same?
Oh heavenly body that holds my own.
Can you ever forgive me?
Linaji
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
Autumn flares out, its flame burst clouds
strewn about misted cliff sides, loam whites
of winter taking their place. A stiff willow breeze,
ten thousand things withdrawn to burrows and immortal
pine heights. First snows stream down, duckweed carpets
of August fade, jade peeking through white. I embark
on the seasons final sail in hardening ice waters.
Til spring my sails will be folded, my raft in idleness.
~~~
Rafting on moon drenched river, avoiding cascades and crash of
rapids and falls. Silvered driftwood a warning. Silent glide of
mulberry oar through dark azure, another crafts sail in silhouette.
From the deck a black spectre dives below, stillness follows
splash, re-emergence, beak wrapped around a dazzling rainbow.
From my raft dangling lantern sways, trout swiping at
gathered moths – scatter and return, some from a far off realm.
Some trout in the net, others not. Luck or the way – who can tell?
~~~
Dusk colour gorge sheathed in
emerald blankets, rising into sheer
cliffs of auburn cinnabar, all
underpinned by the fathomless
flow of azure clarity. Snowy Egrets
nest in pine top heights clear of dust.
On white sand shores gibbons howl
towards squawking beach gulls, squabble
over landlocked trout – debate without end.
Peach blossom petals swirl on spring breeze
over carpets of jade inter cut by king
fisher blue zipping over duckweed. Oriole
song weaves in and out of mulberry branches.
In these vast and vague waters -
coves, creeks and streams all one,
a river dragon lives an undetermined
existence. Mud stirs below, merely a
catfish airing grievances.
Red tail flares in dirt,
my mulberry oar rows me back home.
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 8:13 AM UTC
Loosing gravity, I hovered above,
The fields and woods, hills and dales,
Egrets and cranes sensing a competetor
Near gave a chase, that was nice though.
'Just a metaphor that means a search
For beauty and lasting meaning' I heard,
Who said it; unknown commentator viewing
Every movement, each moment, of universe!
What a mystery, I thought for a moment,
Not the 'I' before, but one that is aggragated,
Above the narrow limits of me,my and mine,
The cranes and herons keeping me company
Had bid goodbye, I saw palms wave hands.
Feeling comfortable with the new fecility
I flew high easy, couldn't find where I end
And the multiverse of wonders takes me over
"Aĺl I thought of me was as a visitor to this
Island of time and space, part of a whole,
But I have my sweetheart close to my heart
Near and dear, friends all over the world
Many of us never met but neighbours of
My heart, I hear them from afar and their
Heartbeat I felt mine; was an adventure this,
Love prompted, a lilting poem in progress,
Now a flow with the wind circling universe
I am ecstacy itself, time is the essence in this
Tale, told by many eyes" whispered I to
My invisible companions, winging with me.
And loomed large in my being my beloved
Moon with whom I fell madly in love in an
Age of unreason and wild infatuation.
She felt compelled to hold me close to her
***** and kissed my sweaty brows gently
A moment of oblivion, now I am one with
The sprit of universe, in thought and deed
When being becomes nothingness, bliss!
The starry nights, embellished in darkness
And light is my domain till eternity, I have
No loss or gain, what 'I was' cherished is not
Taken from me a bit, in this wingless flight
The stars, a billions lighted souls dancing
In time line far near and eternal began
To hum a celestial tune that becomes all,
That makes the universe, it moves in waves
Holds all together with love and compassion
All the rest are just tales,elements create
You and I, all the rest are myths illusory
Apparition of one and only music eternal.
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 10:50 AM UTC
Here is Cedar Draw, a stream which
spills free from the dam upstream
and then slowly licks its way westerly
among the billowing cottonwood
and volcanic boulders that still appear red-hot,
flattening out, pooling here and there
where fat trout and perch can feed
on luckless grasshoppers and mayflies
blown into the water by the wind.
Here is Cedar Draw, widening into
lush shallows with bulrush and cat-tails
clicking in the wind, showy red-winged
blackbirds clinging to stalks high above
the waterline, and where snowy egrets
ply the mossy banks for frogs. The
only sound heard is the chittering of
birds and that warm summer breeze
softly moaning and sighing for you alone.
Here is Cedar Draw, as fine a place
a poet could every hope to find to relax,
meditate, sip a little port wine, tease the
iridescent-blue damselflies that abound
here, cool one's feet at water's edge,
scribble in a notebook disjointed thoughts
that may or may not make it into a poem,
perhaps to doze a little and finally to
rouse up and thank your muse for such
a great day and such a splendid spot.
--
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 11:27 AM UTC
13.Travel Haiku - Harbour Island (Eleuthera, Caribbean)
Pink Sand Beach yoga
on and on I chant with the sea
seeking nirvana read more »
john tiong chunghoo
14.I Am The Beach...
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips. read more »
(brief renderings) Joe Fazio
15.The Power Of The Beach
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips. read more »
(brief renderings) Joe Fazio
16.Under A Blanket Of Stars
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips. read more »
(brief renderings) Joe Fazio
17.Under A Blanket Of Stars...
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips. read more »
(brief renderings) Joe Fazio
18.ON A ROCKY BEACH
read more »
Aldo Kraas
19.Travel Indonesia Haiku - Batam Beach View Resort
Batam Beach View Resort
holding up the sky
the bull horn chalets read more »
john tiong chunghoo
20.On This Beach...
Life is a beach.
There are jellyfish. And sea urchins…the painful bumps along the road that we all encounter in life. On this beach.
In life..and on a beach there is warm water-like times, when we are happy, and have good times and enjoy living. On this beach.
We also have times, like a beach, when we have cold water times; when we are sad, or upset about losing someone or something. On this beach. read more »
Dark Fallout
21.Somewhere
Oh, to be lying,
On a beach,
Somewhere,
With sand in my toes, read more »
Linda Harnett
22.beach
BEACH
On the beach, egrets sleep, peacefully curled together.
Waves roaring and waves wildness wipe on the beach. read more »
Darryl K. Porter
23.HERE
I am here,
Sitting on the beach
Viewing the wave
Rolling up your name read more »
nice pinky
24.Shell in the Beach
a mother tells a story to her son
'there are three men
one of them went to the beach
and found a beautiful shell in the beach read more »
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
In deep layers of silence
I used to hear music,
without words or instruments
it did flow,
the birds used tell me-
secrets of listening to nature.
Parakeets spoke in resonances of green
crows and egrets
complemented again and again,
the music, I thought, was a divine hallucination,
but now
it all turns upside down,
You, complain
you keep on hearing someone crying,
from within.
I see eyes welling up,
which are those memories
that blow up, surge out?
Shh..keep quiet for a moment,
a commotion is getting nearer and nearer,
the ice caps are melting,
but who cares,
the crowd has no mind,
they are braying for blood,
Whose blood?
their own, but can the blind distinguish?
*"come, this is my blood, drink it,
cut this bread in to pieces,
eat it, be satisfied.."*
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 7:24 AM UTC
elegant escapades
everglade excursion
elevating emotions
enchanted evenings
egrets and ermine –
elated elephants encircle
eucalyptus
entering estrus –
evangelical elders
each embedded
even the entrenched
earn ecstatic event entrees
eat and expand
enjoy
experience –
explorers explode
expanding energy
engraving
extra’s
expertly
eloquently –
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
Dem white egrets
sure are skittish,
dey fly wildly
away.
But nawt
dem blue herons,
dey gawt bigger *****
stay fisin' right dare
along da shoreline.
You should hear
dem gulls
laughin' at
all of dem,
and dat risin' sun.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 7:21 AM UTC
Egrets stand proud across blue waterways ..
Floridas natural beatitudes flourish as her occidental sojourner travels home , diurnal fauna softly acquiesce , lullaby .. Lailah delivers grace , harmony and benevolence across Gods opus ..
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 6:58 PM UTC
This morning was cold and a foggy one.
It reminded me of a past colder morning,
When the holiday hustle and bustle had just ended.
I was here....at Windwood Park,
My arms squeezed across my chest.
While briskly I walked, a strong wind blew
And by me, a flock of black birds flew...
I passed along house gardens, with Christmas trees,
With angels and stars on their tops still lighted.
Further on was a row of evergreens,
Upright, unaffected by the cold December winds,
High above the Magnolias and Hollies.
Beside the orange-purplish Birds of Paradise
Stood two smaller, obliquely grown pine trees;
Leaning, but undaunted by the sway of the winds,
No angels, or stars to show....instead, I watched as
The Crows approached, and on the tree tops, they alighted...
And then came another group of three,
And then several more followed suit,
And settled
On the nearby trees,
Blurring the tree line...until
The treetops were darkly shaded....
High above, they perch...on the grass, they search,
On the streets, they cross, pick up food, doing
What birds of the same feathers do---to survive...
A group of beaked, footed, dark crescent creatures
On top of those trees, so green with life,
Against a sky pleasantly clear and blue...
The contrasts, the events I witnessed, lingered with the cold...
A small patch of darkness...emerging,
Widening, prevailing, gaining power,
Can eventually conquer a whole world.
The White Egrets, Herons, the Finch,
The Bluebirds, Junkos and the Parrots
Usually grace Windwood Park with their presence...
Only the Blue Jay was brave enough that cold morning,
While a large number of Crows scattered,
And bravely, skillfully scavenged,
Through the wet, verdant grass,
Through the tall cans of thrash...
This morning, the cold brought back these events...and
I thought of the violence and starvation existing in places worldwide,
The prevailing restlessness, the senseless killings...the children....
No more concern for human lives...and
I thought of Nigeria...
And Pakistan,
And Paris, France,
And those that happened before them,
And those that are about to happen...
Sally
Copyright 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
...we never know what we may witness when we step out of our
comfort zones...
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
Spent, tired across waters unknown,
Driven from your old, warm nests,
Biting winds, bone-clinging, unyielding snow,
This is not your home.
Who sent you here, where we live and die?
With your head held high you stay in my lands,
What do you come as?
A raider from the desert, slave to the sand,
Where mountains you made dust with the wind in your wings?
Ran away from the sun, like
A refugee running from war,
With your lands burnt, scorched by someone you knew,
Who meant you no harm
What did you hope to find so far away,
In this stark stretch of cold that never ends?
You may want to live, but we preserve
This is not that village in the hills,
With a green lake in a sea of white banks
Where you perch in the temple when the sun goes down,
Worshipped like a faceless god by a man of many shapes
and a broken heart he hides from you
Here, it's cold.
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
Two Snowy Egrets land.
One is lame.
Surrounded by cattails.
The other ascends.
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
white wings
gleaming in the sun
a flashing pendulum
swinging steadily
back and forth
across the field
a cloud of egrets
stalks the tumult
churning from
the tractor’s wake
Tom Spencer © 2019
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 7:55 AM UTC
Snowy egrets, pure,
Stoic, white statues of grace,
Digging in the muck.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
Canada Geese wedge over the river
this evening as four Snowy
Egrets fish bankside; on
the Sixth Street
Bridge, a man
dangles his pecker between the rails
and streams jaundice yellow, a Ford
squad passes, flashes a red
beacon and drives
on.
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 7:42 AM UTC
Snowy egrets, pure,
Stoic, white statues of grace,
Digging in the muck.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
Snowy egrets, pure,
Stoic, white statues of grace,
Digging in the muck.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
buzzard shadow
melts
in a two lane
mirage
in the dust of a
tractor's wake -
a churning cloud
of egrets
Tom Spencer © 2018
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 6:56 AM UTC
and then again, I am the same tree on the same hill
look you have seen it
here,
your eyes close
shutting feathers down of egrets
lounging in morning fog
tall nudging of estuaries
of reeds, foxglove-purple glens
here,
your eyes are closed
the white is peeking in from the edges
soft memory
plump and poultice
the egrets blush a ruffled wing
unsetting setting dust
the yellow fog claved the fold
martyred the morning
before it began
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 4:08 AM UTC