"mockingbird" poems
A late hour indeed, darkness over land, but
A bright light shines from a moon above
As a shadow sweeps across the surface.
For a moment, it stands emblazoned, precarious
Adumbrated phoenix in the sky,
But it does not flare out.
Sweeping lower, the form resolves,
Alights narrowly on a fine branch.
For a moment, it struggles for balance
But soon it finds a niche, stands true;
Visage of wisdom in the night
But not without flaw
Not the swiftest, lacking in grace
Lost territories in cunctation.
Still, secure in its plumage,
Into the night, ready to fly:
Hunter poised in the trees
It soars aloft
Nearby, another branch inhabited
Not a vision this one, a voice.
A lighter weight, a softer presence
Harmonious to the calm
Tones of beauty to the air
It rings forth
Awhile, this one too struggled
It tried the songs of the mockingbird
Some rang esthetic, others strange,
But now its own song found:
Anthem sung for the heart
Chorus all may hear
Birds of the night. Dark to dawn
Their habits thus have been.
Now with the new morning,
A change in the season;
Mind and Song together to the sky
Light out for the lit horizon …
~D.B. Guy (May 2008)
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:23 AM UTC
Mockingbird, in the tree,
will you spread your wings for me?
Will you sing and call and fly,
through the trees and to the sky,
soaring where none dare to go,
but the mockingbird happens to know,
the secrets to freedom,
the knowledge of life,
cutting the air,
sharp as a knife.
He closes his wings,
with their felt white tips,
as I put a finger to my lips.
The secrets and knowledge of life itself,
are better sought out by yourself,
but I will find out happily,
if you raise your wings for me.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
THERE is a wolf in me ... fangs pointed for tearing gashes ... a red tongue for raw meat ... and the hot lapping of blood-I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fox in me ... a silver-gray fox ... I sniff and guess ... I pick things out of the wind and air ... I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers ... I circle and loop and double-cross.
There is a hog in me ... a snout and a belly ... a machinery for eating and grunting ... a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun-I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fish in me ... I know I came from saltblue water-gates ... I scurried with shoals of herring ... I blew waterspouts with porpoises ... before land was ... before the water went down ... before Noah ... before the first chapter of Genesis.
There is a baboon in me ... clambering-clawed ... dog-faced ... yawping a galoot's hunger ... hairy under the armpits ... here are the hawk-eyed hankering men ... here are the blond and blue-eyed women ... here they hide curled asleep waiting ... ready to snarl and **** ... ready to sing and give milk ... waiting-I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.
There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird ... and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want ... and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes-And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.
O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart-and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where-For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and **** and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.
7k
I do nothing wrong.
I bother no one.
I abuse my talent
To amuse myself.
I am an innocent bystander,
Only guilty of loving you.
And you love so hard
That it's dangerous to love.
You love with a love
That's not even more than love,
And it destroys my soul.
But is it not a sin
To **** a mockingbird?
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 7:48 AM UTC
Can I write you a love song
I’ll sing it softy in your ear all night long
Blow gently without words on my saxophone
Diamond and Pearls behind the throne
A beautiful ensemble meant for only you
As I give credence too
Take my hand
Cross this journey with me as I sing about faraway lands
Past Egypt pyramids shifting Morocco sands
Lay back my love, allow your mind to silently drift
Feel the enchantment of my piano keys as it spiritual uplifts
I’ll sing love songs of old
A cappella chorus echoed from deep within my enlighten soul
I’ll sing to you about the blues, society’s injustice, and elements of darken storms
Keep your heart warm, while playing my French Horn
Enrapture foretold from this dedicated symphonic poem
A music sheet of percussion, woodwind, brass, keyboard, and strings
Harmony carrying the mind away as the joy of coming spring
I’ll hum your favorite beats, can you feel the crescendo now
Fiddle from the heart by the sweat of one’s brow
Submerge your cerebral cortex, lose yourself in the sultry tunes
Harp sounds bathe of light kissed from the illuminating moon
Destiny overcasts in the lyrics
Fate floating stratospheric
Karma of others handled in the eyes of satiric
Opera, I give you so grand in its grace
French Creole dialect murmured among silk and lace
Sounds of my flute resonant to face
Allowing my Cello sounds to thoroughly embrace
Can I write you a love song
Body and soul serenading soprano to keep you standing strong
My guitar stringing your philosophies along
An equal equation, one plus one equals two
Emotions, feelings, sentiments, its tenor expressed only for you
No compass to my heart, my seasonal love found in hidden melodies
Trombone guiding back and forth breathless as it please
Orchestra sounds
Ascending minds, bodies, souls, pass the opening clouds, divine and profound
The last note sung by me as we gradually come down
Beautiful music embraced, needs never to make a sound
Shh, close your eyes
Meditate on the music for a little while
Hush sweet baby don’t say a word
My heart softly tweets to a mockingbird
If that mockingbird don’t sing
Can I write you a love song created only for your being
As minds are sightseeing
Hearts fleeing
Timpani drums guaranteeing
Entwined of our divine wellbeing
Emotions freeing
Crooning of bodies heard as the day is long
Can I write you a love song
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
Assure your child she is
safe within the confines
of your embrace; tell her she is
free from fright within the bounds
of your sight. Convince her that
a voice as sweet as hers deserves
no other ears than yours; let her
feel that to be free, safe, and sweet she
needs no noise, she needs not
speak. Make her believe that
silence is the air she must
breathe; then show her your candor --
cut her tongue.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 9:51 AM UTC
Society detests innocence
Often shaking hands with ignorance
Exchanging phone numbers with bliss.
We hate it cause we’re jealous.
So we send loaded words their way.
Our mouths, like pistols
shooting bullets full of hate.
Someday we shall see the error of our ways.
Until then,
******
We call him.
He who has yet to be used,
Or more so, use another for pleasure
****** and then leave a woman and a ******
on a Hotel’s bathroom floor,
alone and broken.
Square.
We say
To she who has never felt the itch.
Needed so badly to scratch it
and get her fix
that she steal from her two month old daughters college fund
so she can fly away and forget….
Try as we may, we never forget
How it feels to fall from the sky.
So, we know how to make a mockingbird cry.
We know how to make a mockingbird cry.
And we know how it feels
to **** one
Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 8:02 AM UTC
Dawn
I awaken,
slowly, to a light cool falling drop of water on my cheek.
I arise from my soft, cool bed of leaves and pine needles.
Gazing through magnificent towering redwoods, I stand in awe.
The night storm has passed and the clouds part.
The last few falling raindrops race to the ground before the sun emerges.
Birds chirp in the distance to bring in the new day.
The air is fresh, crisp
Quiet.
I breath deeply.
Happiness.
Sun rays penetrate the forest
kiss my cheek.
Warm.
My castle of trees has many halls but no walls.
Towering columns
Gentle giants to watch over me.
I walk for miles, barefoot
On a soft carpet of pine, cool beneath my feet
I look up
gentle drops of water land on my outstretched hands
I reach a clearing
The sun is setting, falling asleep in his bed of clouds.
He bids farewell and goodnight, but to return soon.
I lay myself down on the ground beside the Oak.
The root is my pillow
Peace
My eyelids slowly, surely close as I rest.
The mockingbird quietly sings me to sleep.
Sweet, pleasant dreams, majestic forest.
Dusk
-John G. Thomas
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 2:45 AM UTC
I make a lot of enemies without intending,
They outnumber me greatly with their size
but they cannot withstand the wrath of fury;
I come ****** but unbowed to these wimps
Hence, they unleash a band of Anthropophagus
Well, I have the ***** to slain these monsters
The sight of them is infuriating, less frightening
I gave them something to mourn - I have to
Again, I walked away from the battle unbowed
Because I have what it takes to **** a mockingbird
But, it didn't make me feel better or worse
I have to put up with them and their excesses
Now, you will understand why I never turn to see
who stab me in the back - it's not worth turning
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
Mockingbird, mockingbird
Singing all night
How clever
You imitate me.
Your search
For the truth
Of your own song
Seems fruitless
When the phrases of others
Chime loud in your head.
Mockingbird, mockingbird
Silence is loud
And the night
Without music is long.
So we fumble
For voice
In the dark
That surrounds us
Find song of our hearts
In the light of our dreams.
Sep 24, 2011
Sep 24, 2011 at 10:06 PM UTC
Dark chocolatey skin bears the flag of red
Coloured, a sin; these feelings are cultivated and bred
So they're brought to toil on white soil
Reminiscing the scent of their native land, the sweet patchouli oil.
As they trudge through barren land, lost hope and ****** soles mark their path
This coloured discrimination instigates fair feelings of wrath
A helplessly agitated mind and yet they stand still
With wistful eyes, devoid of their free will.
At night, they sing to themselves songs of a land far away
As they drift off to a restless sleep, dreaming of being back there someday
Scalding feelings of entitlement and vengeance have taken birth and clouded minds
Working on indigo and cotton fields, on merriment and mirth have been drawn white blinds.
No matter how clean the records, the message is loudly heard
"When looked upon as a blue jay, you can never be a mockingbird"
These words passed down through generations deny them their say
Day to night and night to day but time couldn't change the black man's dismay.
Wanted is colour in life but shunned is coloured life
This clash of colours holds no value, only adding on to people's strife
So while i stand here trying to fathom out the meaning of it all
I hope, someday, realisation will take down this coloured wall.
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 2:31 AM UTC
Read me like the book
for English class
you never annotated.
Enjoy the story,
don't analyze me.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 11:14 AM UTC
I found you
on page 119, of the sacred tome
the only sin, to slay the fine fowl
called mockingbird--why blue jays were fair game
remains mystery to me, but I trust thee,
Ms Lee, to have writ the grand truth
though when I look to the skies,
or in the flush of leaves in my oak,
I find only mourning dove, robins
and a plain sparrow or two, all hiding,
from sinners, in the soft rain
they would not heed my words
no matter how earnestly
implored
"stay behind the branches,
do not move a feather,
words cannot protect you;
when the rains stop, those
with sharp eye and cold heart
will rob you of flight and light "
and then I awake,
to a bright sun, to realize
there has been no rain and the slaughter
has continued all along
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
Rose Lilac
The mockingbird’s wings trill,
As the heart in her stays steady and
The rose lilacs move about letting their petals flutter down.
They lay heart inside heart
Ever so often sensing the trill of the other person’s rush
Of warm security
The heartbeat makes it real as
The end is nowhere near them.
When all else fails the heartbeat stays at its steady pulse
Moving at the speed of light
A rush of emotion fills both of them simultaneously
And the depth of the two arises.
Before the words come out of his mouth he stops himself
For he does not believe these feelings are joint.
Although this is so, the flooding feeling is burning inside her
He sees it in her eyes
And suddenly the words pour out and all inhibitions are gone and
The ****** of emotion is reached.
As the mockingbird’s wings trill,
As the heart in her stays steady and
The rose lilacs move about letting their petals flutter down
They lay heart inside heart
Ever so often sensing the trill of the other person’s rush
Of warm security
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 11:04 PM UTC
Bright flashes of red
Give away the Cardinals.
Chick-a-dee-dee-dee
from the capped visitors.
Warning! Warning!
Shriek the Blue Jays!
Loud as a siren
our tiny wrens.
Crowned with a point
the titmouse displays.
Dressed to the nines
the juncos present before a storm.
Sparrows flock about
White crowned ones too.
Nuthatches scampering
like the squirrels around the limbs.
Brown creeper so shy
round and round the trunk.
Mockingbird flashing white on the wing
singing multitudes of songs.
Crows hold caucuses
along side the road.
Whirring wings buzz
Hummingbird zips on by.
Feathered friends on the wing
Speak to nature's diversity.
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 7:52 AM UTC
I came across a fool today
hiding behind a profile
used for spite and hate
a pitiful soul
wrapped warmly
in unjustified ego
Words meant to hurt
did so, I fear
for his momentary satisfaction
a cunning smile twisted on his filth filled mouth
while the sun now threatens to leave my sky
it's light forever diminished.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 4:48 AM UTC
Envy lies naked on a rose --
Blindly, on bed;
Tonight, -- we bind to shed
Ourselves from purpose
And dread
That sough us from hearing, --
Fearing...
The silent touch of Moire.
It lies darkly on thy posture
Of many a figure
And requiem for my mockingbird, --
Those of many a love of my mockingbird,
(The Reaper
And my keeper
Of my very own
Requiem for a mockingbird)
Alone, all alone
We bind to shed...
Alas! Now Death
Comes as Nepenthe for my mockingbird,
(The only love
I've come to unravel the love
Of my mockingbird)
Now, breathing from her now, the breath
Of my heart leapt
Out from a mockingbird
And slept
As my eyes bind dead...
This is a requeim for a mockingbird, --
The Reaper
And my keeper
Of my very own
Requiem for a mockingbird,
Alone, all alone
We bind to shed
Ourselves from purpose and dread
That sough us from hearing, --
Fearing...
The silent touch of Moire...
Jun 23, 2011
Jun 23, 2011 at 10:57 AM UTC
while you were singing in the churchyard
i was sleeping in the ***** barn
beside a withered picture of an astronaut
and a long beard filled with street secrets
while you were burning up in sainthood
i was screaming into a melancholy leaf
wearing sweat on my miserable *****
and a liar's grin on my face
while you were murdering your wife
i was milking this dream for all the light
and i thanked god on bended knee
saying you're a turtle dove in an icebox
while you martyred yourself into the ocean
i carried you with me on my road to freedom
like an aligator stomped hard by a mockingbird
or a mermaid shot full of antibirth tablets
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
[i'm sorry. i'm not very good at love letters. i've confessed my love to more angels than real people, but please hear me out on this.]
to the girl i ran into yesterday, with love from the girl who ran into you yesterday
i'm pretty sure i'm in love with you.
you left a handprint on my heart (a literal one;
your fingers curved over my collarbone like you were afraid you would break me)
i have cigarette butts for nerve endings
and i'm pretty sure that you must be a lit match
because i haven't felt this alive in seventeen years
please tell me you feel the same way.
i just want to feel your heart beat against mine, and i know we've only just met, i know you will probably never come to this bookstore again,
but if you say no i will pretend that this is a letter to the galaxy
(my favorite constellation is the one stretching across your shoulders;
a thousand and one stars disguised as freckles
play connect the dots with ligaments and fissures)
i will pretend that you are not the sun in my solar system
and okay, maybe i'm being overdramatic but have you ever looked into someone's eyes
and wanted to memorize every fleck of gold you see
i wrote down the things i want to know about you, a wishlist ten miles long
with nothing but your name on it
i wonder how you'd react if i held your hand in public
the sea swelling up to meet us there are wires from my heart to yours
and i know there is approximately an 86.3% chance you will never see this love letter but i wished on a star for something real
and then i ran into you
(i'm sorry again. i hope you enjoy to **** a mockingbird. it's one of my favorites.)
i hope your hair is still a preposterous shade of blue because it makes your eyes look like constellations
do you want to form a galaxy with me?
to the girl i ran into yesterday, who wore bright pink flip flops and had a tattoo of a star on her left anklebone,
i think i'm in love with you
please reply at your earliest convenience.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
Beware all ye who enter here,
This is my heart.
And it is just as bad,
Nay worse,
Than any of hell's trespass,
It beats slow like the mockingbird doth crow,
Once in a blue moon,
And only at midnight,
The chill's it release would make the Morningstar,
Shiver in pain,
My gates are protected by demons greater,
Than the darkest Horror novel,
My own.
The Pits are more black than the darkest tar,
It is the color of my love and of my hate.
For dontcha know,
Its all one thing down here,
Bleeding freely,
Come on in and take a dive,
Just beware,
Not a one,
No God, Demon, Man wo or not,
Has of yet made it out of here,
Is there a treasure inside,
Maybe, perhaps... probably,
Its just the the pride of the thing,
Like climbing Mount Everest,
Or making it to dinner on time.
But I don't care.
Live or die,
The gates remain so very high
Climb them if you will.
One time I fell,
And I awoke in hell,
At first they fought,
For such a soul as me,
Until one such as Beelzebub,
Lord of the hosts he came along,
And he among the first he bowed,
Whispering in a yell loud enough to hear,
'We WILL be waiting for your return,
Lord of lords, king of kings,
Lion among lambs, hero among man,"
Awakening from such a dream,
In a sweat that made me hot,
I smiled for the first time in a long time,
As the blackness in my heart boiled,
And the gates grew,
I had a home in hell,
And Earth would be my THRONE.
Mar 30, 2010
Mar 30, 2010 at 12:14 PM UTC
If a mockingbird went
and mocked me
while flying
just past
the speed of sound,
is he now
considered
to be
going about town
somewhere
in the neighborhood
of
Mach
Three?
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
Oh, why doth a caged bird sing?
Such blissful tunes contrast somber winter's gray,
a myriad of wonder and saccharine kisses
so sweet to hear, so poignant a feel
Oh, tell me why, why doth the caged bird sing
when e'er there naught be good to sing of?
"You are safe here,"
coos cruel crow keeper coolly
"from the owl and the hawk and their mal' ways."
his tones are sharp as swords
so ill and keen as bitter thorns.
Oh why doth the caged bird sing?
"Why, oh why doth ye caged bird sing?"
calls the mockingbird sweetly, returning the caged bird's song
"out of lonesome, sir" sighs the caged bird
and so he ascends on swift, heaven-fit wings
and releases the caged bird, and the two sing as one
now as two free birds shall sing a-merry
Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 12:51 AM UTC