"trilled" poems
A Robin said: The Spring will never come,
And I shall never care to build again.
A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome,
My sap will never stir for sun or rain.
The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow,
I neither care to wax nor care to wane.
The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago,
Because earth's rivers cannot fill the main.--
When Springtime came, red Robin built a nest,
And trilled a lover's song in sheer delight.
Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the Rose with might
Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core.
The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest,
Dimpled his blue, yet thirsted evermore.
25.6k
When I was young, I caught a moonbeam
in a jar.
And I caught the summer breeze, too,
and the smell of wildflowers,
and just the way the mourning dove sang
outside my window.
And the moonbeam glanced through the glass
in a thousand rays,
and the breeze swirled around
for a hundred days
and the dove’s notes trilled and echoed back
into themselves.
And I put them in a little drawer
and turned the key –
to keep them safe, you see.
But I kept them there for overlong,
the lids were tight, ******* on too strong,
and dust had settled over the tops.
And when again I pulled them out,
the moonbeam flickered, small and sick,
and not so quick, the summer breeze.
The flowers were a vague perfume of
summer, and the birdsong was a whisper,
nothing more.
Most carefully I unscrewed all the jars,
and shook the remnants out the window like
dead things.
But the new wind caught them and
carried them away on its wings,
ferried off to the grave of the uncatchable things.
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
*did you come before us nightjar
were you before us water hen
did you precede us kingfisher
was the world happier before men?
were you here before us peafowl
caught you fish here sarus crane
chased rat you dreamy owl
was the world happier before men?
were you still there cute quail
chirped sweetly little wren
trilled melodies shy doel
was the world happier before men?
did you sing at evening drongo
danced you peacock in the rain
how was the world long ago
was it much happier before men?*
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
Each hour until we meet is as a bird
That wings from far his gradual way along
The rustling covert of my soul,—his song
Still loudlier trilled through leaves more deeply stirr’d:
But at the hour of meeting, a clear word
Is every note he sings, in Love’s own tongue;
Yet, Love, thou know’st the sweet strain wrong,
Through our contending kisses oft unheard.
What of that hour at last, when for her sake
No wing may fly to me nor song may flow;
When, wandering round my life unleaved, I
The bloodied feathers scattered in the brake,
And think how she, far from me, with like eyes
Sees through the untuneful bough the wingless skies?
1.8k
*nothing like unsmoothed-potential
handed out
by
the dense-influence
of
libraries*
1.
symbiosis personified within
the heart of libraries
where tomes could be spilt
in split-seconds
2.
staked into the other
like a dove-tail joint
yeah, I'll smoke you yet
on a day beneath a sun-trilled tree
*peanut-butter sandwish on a windy-day
hm.. ain't nada like libraries
as fine-shelter
for fretted-shoulders*
S T - 14 novice 13
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
--To A. J.
A black and glassy float, opaque and still,
The loch, at furthest ebb supine in sleep,
Reversing, mirrored in its luminous deep
The calm grey skies; the solemn spurs of hill;
Heather, and corn, and wisps of loitering haze;
The wee white cots, black-hatted, plumed with smoke;
The braes beyond--and when the ripple awoke,
They wavered with the jarred and wavering glaze.
The air was hushed and dreamy. Evermore
A noise of running water whispered near.
A straggling crow called high and thin. A bird
Trilled from the birch-leaves. Round the shingled shore,
Yellow with **** there wandered, vague and clear,
Strange vowels, mysterious gutturals, idly heard.
1.4k
The silence grows deafening,
and the stillness screams;
the darkness over powers me.
i look all around and i see mirrored walls.
and in them the eyes!
eyes that bore into mine seemed to accuse,
they seemed to resent being trapped in here;
along with the very ghost.
i whirl around and see another pair,
appraising the view and seemingly smug.
so terrible yet so beautiful,
and wondering when the show ended.
i close my eyes, my heart speeds up,
i turn slowly and find another image.
hungry and dangerous the eyes came nearer,
with every step going backwards,
the ravishing the ravenous eyes came closer.
till i could smell her breath on mine,
intoxicating, alluring and beckoning me,
till i could fight it no more.
i tried to turn my face and again,
she smiled and waved at me,
she trilled a little laugh;
at my terror stricken face.
the sound reverberated off the walls,
that were also mirrors.
"why are you scared" she looked at me,
"we are all a part of you,
we sleep with you and wake with you,
and eat with you and we watch you ****
we are your nightmares revisited,
we are the unspoken dreams,
the tales untold, the songs unsung.
all your deeds good and bad,
come undone with us.
for we are your friends and family,
we are only, you."
she bared open her heart
and i saw that it was mine!
and i heard the songs of the requiem,
or was it only my scream?
trapped within my own mind,
with the inner spirit.
she tortured me and tormented me,
till i was no more.
but when i start to think of it,
was it all just a dream?
but then she comes at night to me
and then i see it was me.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
#*
It was midnight
the moon sailed through the clouds
Winds howled
so did the wolf
The insects trilled
while in the distance machines drilled
Roadways to resurrect in the dead of the night
Snow covered land, white
no sign of the Sun
Do not follow the shadows
they can mislead
Puzzled and incomplete
Mystery of the truth
In pictures framed*#
Mar 15, 2023
Mar 15, 2023 at 1:56 PM UTC
Unpolished weathered wood plays on my palms,
I pull and reach and pull an even beat
Attending algae'd oars aqueous psalm
Altered by the tangled grass I meet,
in counterpoint small waves percuss the prow
Accentuating the pause before I cull,
Mellifluous zephyrs bowing across my brow
Enhance the exposition of the gulls,
Above the hem of heaven's dress the bright
Cerulean bodice trilled with Cirrus lace
Beguiles regard, but maddeningly polite
She smooths her skirt across the score of space
Eclipsing a poet's want to read the ruse,
This lady only lingers to amuse.
Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC
Exhaustion overtakes her soul
She used to fight it and her demons
Yet lately she sees no reason, for life has taken toll
Sun shines so lovely and weather warmed so right
She found that smiles came and laughter trilled
Her heart fell and leapt slightly again
Yet his words still burned where they fell
Lonely and broken, she stands once again to face the world
The cruel world that stripped away her innocence and ***** her of pure joy
The world that held her up and dropped her, dropped her flat
Just as flat as her deflated lost heart
But yet, she fought on
And through this fight, she developed an unimagiable strength
Her smile still shone warm, her eyes always light
A new detemination urged her on
A new phase of her life
Yes life would be complete in his arms
Yet away from that protection is where she learned:
Life is cruel and painful but through the pain, beauty overtakes time and time again
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 7:38 PM UTC
1761
A train went through a burial gate,
A bird broke forth and sang,
And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat
Till all the churchyard rang;
And then adjusted his little notes,
And bowed and sang again.
Doubtless, he thought it meet of him
To say good-by to men.
1.1k
The kettle boiled, switched itself off.
He made tea, topped it with milk.
He had never felt calmer.
Today was the day.
He counted the strides to the station,
One less than usual.
The train was two minutes overdue.
A robin just above him piped and trilled its cascading song.
The train came into view, now it was level with the end of the platform.
This was the time.
Before he could see the driver's eyes.
He hesitated.
The moment passed.
**** robin, **** ****** robin.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 12:48 PM UTC
Do dogs dream in black and white?
A shame, an utter shame.
I flounder for a hold on this man, his broad shoulders that used to carry me so effortlessly lifted upon the throne of his smile, so much worthwhile.
When now all that I see are the heavy hanged heads of the love that was once so deep, once so deep.
Pained silence pushes me to tears barely contained when before I laughed.
This is it; Don’t… Be. Scared.
Do I dream in color?
The hold on this; like the grip of my prints on wisps of smoke that flee and disperse from my desperate fingers, forever chasing an image that once ran to me with open arms.
I was a queen once, you know.
I danced with grace across maple panels glossed with the sheen of a million diamonds, painting the path of the white stag that pranced with me upon my forest floors, parting particles of light as they float like precious snowflakes to meet the dead pine needles.
The violins and ivory keys trilled out in their glorious voices with the angels that watched me dance.
Elegant and beautiful and free; commanding all who would listen to smile.
Then one day the earth shook and took my forest floors away, my white stag dead where he lay, the crimson painted corpse of all I held dear.
They brought their guns on fearsome horseback, their steeds’ bright eyes ringed white with horror, coats aquiver, for their king lay silent, glass eyed, still.
The throne of his broad shoulders askew with the pain of something only he knows, limbs tied back, no gentleness to hold his head, no soft cradle for his head.
The king is dead.
The king is dead.
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 9:53 AM UTC
Colours in my eyes; like rain
as it drizzles, verses in vain;
Thoughts upon layering vines
of prosetry; a delightful hymn.
More than a picture; a metaphor:
A dismay of one's own fancy,
Prismatic one would say; vibrant-
ly laced strings trilled, on a fancy;
Whimsical: clinquantly fervent,
Or so one would say; gracing,
Painting cliques; of colours
of places upon themselves;
As a canvass wild wandering,
Upon the world in its charming flatter.
Unlike I, one bound deeply; enfettered
gladly in between dimly shades of two.
"A mixture of velvety crimson and deep royal violet."
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 2:21 AM UTC
I take a marble path to where we met
Underneath the ebony pressure and blowing mini lives
And think of every single thing
That ever chanced to grace your lips
And I walk and I walk and we walk to the bench
Where we aimed at those deaths
How they laughed at our kiss
Trilled down the fragrant spools
Of blurb stained cotton
You and me forever being
Good at bad ideas
Dark stories flying through the pane
Teasing me and never to be seen again
So take take take me to where we met
And where a single moment was greater than this
And even brighter than this
Swirled veins of redundant horrific prayers
Get me out of myself
to infinite
Yes darker than the 'byss
Please believe me
I never wanted this
And never could again
And here I am ready to jump
Into the magnificent song of yours
The gates creak for want of you.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
11:12 on a Tuesday.
A moment when the wind stopped,
Buds popped,
Grass was chopped,
Bunnies hopped,
And my heart dropped.
11:12 on a Tuesday.
A moment when rivers spilled,
Snow was killed,
Birds trilled,
And my soul was filled.
11:12 on a Tuesday.
A moment when spring was delayed,
Children played,
Flowers swayed,
And whole, I was made.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
She met him at a dance, when he glanced her way on a Friday night.
She was trilled that he approached her instead of the other gals.
He told her later it was her eyes that drew him in, he said," they sparkled liked
Diamonds."
He took her to meet his mom once, she pulled him aside and told him, She said that," she is from the wrong side of the tracks."
They continued to see each other at the dance and did not look back, Their love was a unique romance.
One day he took a chance and told her the news, He said " Sweetheart I hope this don't give you the blues; I have to go away to war, I don't know what is in store for us."
She said to him "trust me, my love is true, I will wait for you."
She also let him know; we could write letters and before you know it the war will end, He agreed.
The time arrived to say goodbye, He held her tight and gave her a farewell kiss. He told her he would never forget her Diamond eyes, and that the time spent with her was pure bliss. He also said, " Your my Angel in disguise."
They wrote back in forth for awhile. his letters always made her smile.
The last letter she wrote said," My love, I miss you, please take to heart the poem I wrote for you:
Snow Angel
You are were it is warm, in that war torn land
If you could you could build castles in the sand
I am here where it is cold, I could build Angels in the snow
I am your Snow Angel, my love warms your heart
I loved you from the start, always remember,
I am your Snow Angel
She waited at the mailbox everyday, hoping for another letter from him;
but received nothing more, until one day shortly after the war ended.
She saw a man in uniform heading her way, she rushed toward him.
When she got closer she realized it was not her Love, The man had a
letter in his hand, He said" I am so sorry, he got wounded in battle and we lost him.
He Said, with tears in his eyes," He died while saving my life"
He was a Hero.
He once, made me promise that if something happened to
him, I would deliver back to you, your last letter.
She took the letter and looked at the words written on the back of the envelope, You are my Snow Angel and in life or death, you will forever be in my heart.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
On a night, dark and dreary,
I mused, wearily.
Whatever was I to do
With it watching me?
Wings as black as night,
Ink dripping, feathers like knives.
It has eyes like stars
In a somber, summer sky.
It turned its head and trilled,
Exactly 13 times.
Each note an alarm of distress
Inside my plagued mind.
It was here for me.
It shuffled its black feathers
And unfurled its dark wings,
Showing nothing but a heart.
This heart, my life, my ever-
Changing tune. This song
Began lively, crescendoing.
Ending with a thump.
I watched it falter.
I stared at it and counted.
I got to thirteen,
And then I watched as it stopped.
Aug 13, 2025
Aug 13, 2025 at 12:49 PM UTC
I couldn't help but smile
when a bird outside our kitchen
trilled, "Whew, whew, whew!"
Then it switched to "Wee-oop,
wee-oop, wee-oop!"
"Listen to that!" I cried aloud,
as Kim kept chopping her kale.
I went to the screen for a ****
while the bird continued.
The singing abruptly stopped,
and so did I.
I put away my pipe
and started a gluten-free diet.
I cancelled our subscription
to the New York Times,
and filed for divorce.
This was no surprise to Kim.
"You were always an *******
she said. "Same as that
******* bird."
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 7:26 AM UTC
She had long since stopped singing. The notes that had once flown off her tongue now lay dormant, her voice box squirreling away melodies meant to be sung aloud. Once, she brought smiles to the faces of old men as she trilled and skipped about, flaunting the youthful lightness of her limbs. But the notes were gone now, and with nothing to carry her, she sunk.
She no longer slept as she once had. Her nights had stretched long, with such indifference for the troubles of the waking, she had rarely bothered to see the morning. Now she awoke before the sun, shaken from slumber by the ghosts that haunted her. She knew they had less hold in consciousness.
Singing, sleeping, these she did not miss. They simply slipped away when she had forgotten to notice them, forgotten to relish her dreams, to hum lyrics that buoyed her above the pavement.
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 10:53 PM UTC
There she stood playing a melody,
Her fingers positioned and ready.
She's such a tease as she trilled her passionate notes,
Playing songs that someone else wrote.
Her flute gleaming in the spotlight,
I love the way her lips were positioned on that pipe.
Her eyes sparkled as she ran through scales with such ease,
Her melody still haunts my dreams.
The way she blew steady air into her flute was ******
And she continued to play notes that were chaotic.
Her fingers danced with passion over the keys,
Making me get down on my knees.
I imagined her fingers dancing upon me,
Imagining us in perfect harmony.
She gave me such a thrill,
My body is tingling with chills.
Her lips firm as she played,
Manipulating her mouth to make volume rise and finally fade.
Be mine, you free little bird,
Your song is the only one I heard.
Unleash your melody into me,
Let's make sweet harmony.
I love the way you tease me,
I love the way you play me.
I want my heart to be your flute,
Playing it to your wicked tune.
I love the way you fly,
I want to keep you as my own sweet lullaby.
Be mine, my beloved teasing flutist,
Let your melody and my background tune become sweet bliss.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 1:19 AM UTC
Trump missed a step today. It's sad to see
such gaffs in a political career.
The morn dawned clear and bright. Humidity
had moved out overnight. (Precisely here
was Donald's chance.) Sweet-tweeting sparrows trilled,
bees buzzed industriously. As Nature wept
for joy dew sparkled, zephyrs fresh and mild
wafted the greenery. A sturgeon leaped.
Had Don been up, inspired he could have said:
"Were I your president I'd get my way,
o people of America, instead
of Tuesday I'd declare this Saturday!"
Then even a hard-nosed realist as myself
might vote for such a winning furry elf!
....naahhh :)
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 12:35 PM UTC
He told me all the wonders of the world,
All the smoke-filled ponderings and philosophies,
Yet he himself was but a wretched worm.
Young but wary,
I’d walk past the mushroom without a bite,
And walk into the flower garden level headed.
Drawn as I was to the roses,
Lovely hues,
Too classic for so whimsical a place.
But oh what a pleasant surprise to be serenaded by a pretty stargazer.
Who trilled in lilting soprano,
Blossoms rounded in the curve of treble clef,
Shrill and wonderful
Such that even my skin listened
And what would I give to linger in the garden,
But the journey and path continue on.
After all, the smirking cat said nothing about staying,
Perhaps the smile will carry on.
Oct 30, 2019
Oct 30, 2019 at 3:27 PM UTC
From the fingers of first
misty light,
rays
of morning shatter
dark chains,
and usher
in daybreak unrehearsed.
Black songster displays
agenda for
mating
by ringing the ether
in trilled carol,
shakes off
damp night and flies away.
Smiles become partner
to awe
after
first heard
feathered dawn-bird's
wordless praise
as life again makes its start.
Raise the eyes for more
and view
nature
revealing truth
that only by such glories
can Love be
understood in unvoiced talk.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 6:13 AM UTC
'
*a grated gate in midnight's light
once fell upon a sorry sight
as rain washed out the scarlet stain
and skies bowed down to hear their pain
a voice without a body heard
the sordid tale its waist did gird
one witness found, torn leaf by leaf
Creation's glory then sank to grief
a tale no word was writ nor said
into the ground the silence bled
a soaked and orphaned quill remains
fraught with want of trilled refrains
a poet's tome thus lay ungathered
wispy strands of dreams, untethered
if Heaven cried its tears that night
set up our quaich by candlelight*
_ __ ___ ✒
○●
•
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC