"tweeting" poems
It’s a coloured and shaded broad daylight.
Bring me my hourglass, my paintbrush.
Keeping a timepiece, how soon my brush
strokes become finer it is not the task.
Try once more, strike a fine chord in time,
ever ticking but doesn't make a sound!
Let’s read the small prints, the shadow lines
on the pitch of the slit sun shines!
A dark spot in the light, some dotted lines
on a blank paper, however witty you might
describe it, count on the tweeting birds
short and cute, singing in the open air.
Light and dark the two tallies, ins and outs.
The times come and go, flowing fine.
For now, let’s take a look inside.
Tint and shade nor tone them now.
Zoom in and out, just watch them as they are.
This cool sleek shade on the sunny slate
is it a shadow, or some quivering curly hairs
or are these reflections of flocking clouds,
diligent sea eyeing deep down on the ground?
Read the small prints, shadows in the daylight,
before the show is wrapped up.
And down the evening pool, the sun
parts away with the black swan.
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 9:11 AM UTC
Open your heart paint your dream.
Do it in the broad daylight,
it’s your colour scheme.
If the twilight falls on your colour plate
before you’re done painting the noon,
keep drawing down the moon!
Breakthrough at the first light.
No sunrise is any bird’s sleeping pillow.
They are on their wings, out and tweeting,
singing on the past night’s dreamscene.
Any of the fair duo, the Sun or the Moon,
sleek sunny golden or the silver line,
neither one of those can you catch.
They know their science
like you count your time.
You can set your mind any time,
pick any number to count your time,
but you won’t have the last one.
There isn’t one, the mind is spotless fine.
But if the solar-lunar duo can count the last:
ask them to stop the time.
Be truthful as you speak.
Open the heart into your eloquent word.
Never think you are alone, you are
complete with the complete world!
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 10:18 PM UTC
I like the way
you say care
and laugh at my jokes
and stroke my hair
You touch my body
call me your amor
and tell me I'm pretty
when I answer the door
But then.
Your phone starts beeping
I'm no longer yours
Your hands wrapped around it
Yours eyes on the floor
Transfixed by its beauty
It's body you touch
You laugh and you answer
You smile far too much
It sits on the table
Between you and me
A small metal barrier,
which past you can't see
When it goes off again
and you reach for that phone
You let go of my hand
Absorbed on your own
I get up, I leave
I'm not second best
To texting and cheating, and lying and tweeting
You inconsiderate idiot, your life's a mess
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 9:24 AM UTC
You're tweeting
Texting
Face Timing
Whatsapping
SMSing
Facebooking
Skyping
Yet you seem to disconnect yourself from the authenticity of the present
She, he, them, us- are all gone
Congratulations on your 'social media'
Because now the only thing you can really socialise with, is nothing
So think about the next time you decide to choose social media
Are you willing to risk it all in return for a like, comment or message on a screen?
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
Did I notice little birds early in the morning,
Flying and hopping, chirping and tweeting..
Different families of birds chirping..
Brown, yellow chested, black with long tail and orange beak, house sparrow too,
Hens and cock's crow too...
All are busy talking
Do they ever listen too??
**
As a child I remember,
**
I Came back from school and twittered about my day,
Each evening my family sat around each other,
And all had to speak at once,
None of us there were listeners..
So what one could hear was lots of twitterati..
My mom just said hmm and hmm..
Never really heard my endless stories..
My brother was gem...
He always heard..
Don't know how much.. Though
Each sentence of mine ended
on
.. Is it not bro?... And yes said he always..!
From those carefree twittering to this day,
Life has moved so much..
**
Life always moves, one always grow,
From constant chatter to a deep silence.
And so
**
I wonder do birds ever become silent..
From Cuckoo to Wisdomed Owl
From experienced Eagle to the chirping house sparrow..
Do they too grow silent when old??
The early morning chirping,
Is it from young birds??
Are the old one just saying hmmm
Are they listening ?
Or are they talking?
Ever wondered what happens in birds world??
**
Though nothing much changed now in my house..
**
We still speak at the same time
We hardly have ear for other's stories..
But now we don't speak our heart out..
We are not those chirping type anymore,
We speak about our performance,
We speak about our achievement
We speak about the praises we receive..
We give our Wisdom,
We give our advice..
**
But we hardly speak about ourselves..
**
Sometimes, I still long to be that child again..
Twittering my tongue constantly..
Till my mother yells "Shhh! keep quiet"
And my brother says.. I am listening.. you say..!!!
**
Alas, life moves on, life always make one grow..
**
Sparkle in Wisdom
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
Fast food
Fast cars
Fast girls
Fast world
Fast paced
Shoes laced
Heightened heart rate
Don't be late
Sweat beading your being
Aren't you tired?
Your soul's taking a beating
Tweeting instead of reading
Face booking instead of looking up
Have you forgotten how to breathe?
Involuntary actions* now include refreshing your news feed
The best years of our lives wasted on the internet
Reblogging pictures that reflect our interests
Hoping the next follower is our next best friend
What happened to human interaction?
We're all connected by a single thread
Let's take a stand and realize this now instead of on our death beds
Look up
Look out
Look in
Lose doubts
Lose sin
Lose shame
Open your eyes
Forget the game
autonomic functions
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 1:35 PM UTC
I hate it.
I hate that we're a generation
that's caught up with our devices.
Eyes on the screen,
incase you miss out.
Keep scrolling,
incase you miss out.
Keep tagging,
incase you miss out.
Keep tweeting,
incase you miss out.
Keep posting,
incase you miss out.
Yet,
here I am.
In front of a laptop.
Making sure I don't miss out--
about writing about missing out.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 1:44 AM UTC
Who's comb-over looks like *****
Donald's comb-over looks like *****
Who scared us shitless election night?
Donald scared us shitless election night.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump
Who's got a tie that's long and red?
The Don has a tie that's long and red?
Who pays hookers to **** on beds?
The Don pays hookers to **** on beds.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who's got hands tiny and slight?
The Don has hands tiny and slight.
Who spews lies out day and night?
The Don spews lies out day and night.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who's got a vocab small and trite?
The Don has a vocab small and trite.
Who whines Fake News out of spite?
The Don whines Fake News out of spite.
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who likes tweeting SAD SAD SAD?
The Don likes tweeting SAD SAD SAD.
Who likes a spanking when he's bad?
The Don likes a spanking when he's bad.
Bad, bad, bad, SAD SAD SAD,
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
How many minions leave today?
So many so far went their way.
Comey, Priebus, Flynn and Bannon,
Tillerson, Spicer, Hope and Ryan.
Leave today. Gone their way.
Bad, bad, bad, SAD SAD SAD,
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
My smile
Once lost her beam.
To vices , the vicious and vile.
Her crown
Fell down
At once,to drown
Deep in the ocean blue
My lips expelled
Dangers and woes.
My heart
Like my face spelt 'red'.
Words weighed void, equating emptiness.
Darkness
Darkened darkness.
Wars
Rumoured wars
Could not revive her.
Lost in the dust...
My smile
Had no chance of survival
Till I rose
To praise the beauty
Of the morning sun.
It's scattered reflection on and on.
To see
The wetness underneath my feet
An evidence
Of the rain being
Blessings from
A planet of many waters.
To hear
The sweet tweeting
Of little birds.
To see the wind swaying the heads of the trees
The beautiful petals of an emerging flower.
To behold
The fluffy royals
Floating in the skies.
The gorgeous setting
Of the morning
Into noon.
Then my crown
Resurrected
Banished, from the bottom
Of the sea.
Re-coronating my smile
No longer exiled to drown.
May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 7:05 AM UTC
The sea is swept in mystery
She confides in me no more.
No whispers in the shells
Or echoes from the shore.
You do not argue with the wind,
You can not bargain with the sky.
Standing back to back with mountains
We watch and weep while angels die.
For the face of life is fleeting,
Tweeting, tapping at your door,
Ravens that won't relent,
Yet ones you can't ignore.
But I'm boring you I'm sure.
I was talking about the ocean
And how we speak no more.
It's not that we don't get on
We still have much to say.
Words are made of water
Written in the waves.
Now the tide is out,
The sea seems
Far away.
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 7:49 AM UTC
Warmth,
Sunshine,
Humidity,
Filling the days.
Monkeys here,
Snakes there,
Geckos everywhere,
Finding them throughout the day.
Homesickness pulls at my heart.
Birds tweeting,
****** of a foreign language,
Small things caught throughout the day
Reminding me of home.
Cold,
Clouds,
Wind,
Filling the days.
Raccoons here,
Seagulls there,
Buildings everywhere,
Spotting them throughout the day.
Homesickness pulls at my heart.
Foreign things,
So different from home
Making me long for the past.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 7:30 PM UTC
Whilst walking down the street
I heard a thunderous tweet;
'Twas a straining little bird
Who couldn't pass a ****
The little thing was constipated,
Its **** wide dilated;
Tweeting loudly in mid-bog,
Trying to eject a log.
I observed with sympathetic heart
As it trumpeted out a ****
Straining, chirping loud and long,
Letting off a foul and noisome pong.
I watched for nigh an hour
Its display of **** power;
Then a final intestinal pump
Produced a huge great steaming lump:
A mighty ball of faeces
(a giant of its species,
and total bumhole splitter
which shattered its feathered *******
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
Who's comb-over looks like *****
Donald's comb-over looks like *****
Who's scared shiteless on election night?
Donald's scared shitless on election night.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump
Who's got a tie that's long and red?
The Don has a tie that's long and red?
Who pays hookers to *** on beds?
The Don pays hookers to *** on beds.
*** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who's got hands tiny and slight?
The Don has hands tiny and slight.
Who spews lies out day and night?
The Don spews lies out day and night.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who's got a vocab small and trite?
The Don has a vocab small and trite.
Who whines Fake News out of spite?
The Don whines Fake News out of spite.
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who likes tweeting SAD SAD SAD?
The Don likes tweeting SAD SAD SAD.
Who likes a spanking when he's bad?
The Don likes a spanking when he's bad.
Bad, bad, bad, SAD SAD SAD,
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
How many minions leave today?
So many so far went their way.
Comey, Priebus, Flynn and Bannon,
Tillerson, Spicer, Hope and Ryan.
Leave today. Gone their way.
Bad, bad, bad, SAD SAD SAD,
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 7:07 PM UTC
Sometimes I think poets are full of ****
Because so many of them use beautiful words,
When talking about birds.
I mean I only notice birds:
When they wake me up at nine am on Saturdays
Or **** on my dark colored car
Or mock my bored-eyed cat
Or beg for my sandwich at the beach
Honestly when you talk about listening to birds tweeting,
I think first of Twitter.
And when you talk about birds playing,
I think of professional football.
And even when you talk about the cool birds, the night birds,
I think of a particularly disturbing YouTube video of an owl's head going all the way around.
Yeah, I think what you guys like most about birds,
Is that they're easy to rhyme with words.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
There is music at dawn in the song of the koyel
The tweeting, the chirping, the warbling,the cry
The medleys that float in the morning air
As birds sing a welcome to a rising sky
There is music in the span of feathered wings
The steady drone of the humming of a bee
As the sun revels on his throne at noon
While a brisk wind whisks leaves on willow trees
There is music in the silver drops of rain
A gentle drizzle or a thunder squall
Music in the flow of rivers and streams
And the sparkling cascade of a waterfall
There is music on slopes of lofty mountains
In echoes that reverberate of a water spring
In the soft rustling of a valley of flowers
Of blue irises and pink hyacinths
There is music in seas and oceans blue
Waves overreaching to meet the shore
Rippling in sounds of frothy ecstasy
Whispers of pearls and ocean floors
There is music at dusk when the day rests
The throaty croaks in a nocturnal sheer
As moths flutter drawn to light
'Tis music of life that I hear
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 9:50 AM UTC
If you counted up all the seconds we spent tweeting,
All the minutes we spent repeating,
All the hours we spent faking this thing-
"#YOLO", we call it.
If all 7 billion of us added up,
How many lives could we make
With the tick-tocks we spent talking about their brevity?
How many lives could we have saved, changed, re-arranged
With the attitude of using that one life to make a difference,
Instead of abusing the battle cry of a short life to do useless, irresponsible ****
Calories, pranks, drugs, lust, rebellion.
Do you feel stupid for the things you bought with YOLO now?
'Cause you got it wrong.
Your life will flash before your eyes,
But will yours be worth watching?
It all counts.
But did you make it count?
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
Eyes chanced upon a brown object
Nestled on a crowd of multi-colored subjects
A bunch of dried and fresh leaves,
Small, thin and soft spikes of twigs
And I wondered.....how on earth
Did fibers and strips of polyester sack
Get included in this mix?
One would think it might fall, and be slung
But it stayed put, steady, where it hang
I was trying to figure it out:
A cylnder, at first thought...but I had my doubts
I realized, it was a crooked oblong
And, from its opening on one side, came the soft songs
A small part of which, was attached
To the thorny Bougainvillea branch.
Strange.....for it was small...yet steep
A human hand could never go deep
You wouldn't think it could contain anything
And yet...inside it, were resting
Three tiny eggs...warming
And eventually, would be hatching.
Soon, the Red Palm and Sweetsop trees
Buzzed with activities
Birds of many kinds, watched, upon the bay window eave,
High on the electric cables...they perched and wouldn't leave
To and fro.......high and low, they flew
The air was filled with bird sounds i never knew
Soon, too, soft tweeting was heard
Along with the louder chirping of the older birds
Then came that morning, when, a birdling,
Eagerly, tested its wings,
Then fell off its nest
Down to the roots of the Red Palm tree
Where it almost met its final rest...
Suddenly, came to the rescue, two big palms
That put the birdling back inside its home
And reinforced the nearly displaced nest...
Both birdling and nest, were put to a test....
Today, other birds fly around this once busy space
Where life's significant phases
Inevitably took place,
Lonely and deserted now,
For the birdlings are fully grown
They're now flying on their own...
From my rocking chair, I could see
Among those entangled twigs
Hidden among a crowd of sprigs
Still ably rests
An abandoned strange nest
That once told the story
Of an Olive-backed sunbird....and its glory...
Sally
Copyright February 18, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
^^^^^^^^^^
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 1:14 PM UTC
A little jay bird
Whistling through the scene
Attached to the branch
Of an birch tree.
Hopping and tweeting
Its lovely bird song
Longing and yearning
For something strange.
On wards it went to
A different place
Where stamps and
Notes thrive in any way.
Amidst the musical
Pleasures of this sort.
It misses the soul
Of the old birch tree.
However it will not
Give up
The pleasures of
The new singing jay bird.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
Have you ever wanted to do something just once,
Only once and never again, and then have it be as if
You'd never done it at all?
It was summer, like now:
Hot, hazy, sweaty--even in the evening.
The brook ran low, between banks covered with alders,
Overhanging, tall, immense;
The mountains were purple, indefinite through the mist;
The pines looked almost black.
You could smell the summer--scents from the marsh--
Things in their prime--you could hear them,
Tweeting and chirping and buzzing and peeping and croaking,
And barking and hooting:
Dead mid-summer--hot, sticky, buggy.
After the sun set, but before it was dark,
When you can still see, but everything's a different color,
I stood on the old bridge
Where the brook runs under the back road
On its way from the marsh, down through the village,
To the big river and the lake beyond.
I was looking up towards the plateau, trying to lose myself,
When around the bend, banking against the alders,
In formation, like separate missiles shot from different cannons
At the same moment, at the same velocity,
In the same direction
With systems to navigate and turn, elevate and descend, dart,
Follow the stream bed,
And stay exactly the same distance from each other,
Like an entity with an awareness
The no one part could experience,
Came a flight of bats, moving too quickly to count.
They rocketed under the bridge,
Appeared on the other side, raced
Down a straight stretch, veered right
And disappeared with the brook into the meadows
Headed for the dark pines, the rapids and beyond.
You could hear the swish of their wings as they passed
And their high-pitched pings, like the highest notes on a harp.
In a blink they were gone, in their ecstasy flying on,
And I wanted to be them, all of them at once--
Just once.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC
Where do you write something you want someone to read
but you don't want them to see?
Almost a year ago, I did some pretty messed up things
and no, it was not grown up of me
and yes, I still feel guilty (at least a part of me does)
and no, I still don't think I "needed" to
However, to think you have done nothing wrong
is an outright lie
Is belittling someone a sign of love?
Is masking someone's voice a sign of affection?
Is closing the doors on things I was not ready to leave behind
a sign of your attention?
And no, that wasn't the end of it
And yes, I'd rather let you read between the lines
because even writing this in memory of things
that once were,
is giving you way too much of my time
Nonetheless, I do not hate you as much as I thought I had
I just have one question,
where do _you_ believe it went wrong?
Could it have been the numerous times I warned you
that something is bound to go awry?
Maybe it was hidden between all the times
you were busy tweeting about how awful I was
while I begged for forgiveness from a problem
I did not create
I can only request one final thing,
take a moment for yourself to replay the words
that we once spoke to each other in your head
Analyze the seconds we spent together
Remember all the wasted parts of my life spent on
trying to earn your approval while you
continue to let everyone know
just how _awful_ I was to you
I dare you, after all of this is done, to come back and
accuse _me_ of being
"emotionally unavailable"
Fortunately for me, however,
I've come to terms with things that once kept me sinking
and I've found the things that keep me afloat
So for now, I bid this chapter of our lives
a soft, sincere and sweet goodbye
(P.S. You may have once had me
wrapped around your fingers, but if
I learned anything from you at all,
it's that I will always be stronger than
what I think I can't handle)
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
Fully blasted scenery, where i once called home
Tweeting of birds resting in the tree as a tone
Another chaos has to began
Cover! Hide! —said the woman to her son
Clear water turned into red, how could we conquer the world with no more dread
I wished the i could repent
I wished, I didn't left
Messy world I created,
Are once the world I wished I have painted.
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 9:32 AM UTC
Drip, drip dripping
Down my window
Pain
Tweet, tweet tweeting
Open up windows
Again
Tug, tug tugging
The blind cord
Strain
Throb, throb throbbing
My sump pump
Drain
Drip, drip dripping
Down my window
Pain.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
We as people should try our hardest to be our best. Our generation is fading... We are stuck on stupid. Not to be offensive , but yes, we are. We are surrounded by things that eat at our knowledge like vultures on a carcass. Tweeting, Facebooking, Myspacing, and IMing. I admit it, I am a victim of this social crime, but I am beginning to realize that we are not using our brains like those before us had to. What happened to reading and writing? Why do we think we can just do everything on our Iphones now? I know we are now becoming a technological era, but do we really have to do EVERYTHING this way?
Ok. On to the next rant.
Why is it okay for everyone to speak like they have not had any home training? Excuse me, some haven't but, you could at least try to improve yourself. I don't think I'm better than anyone because I have a better vocabulary or even because I was raised to speak with correct grammar and enunciate my words. I do admit I don't speak "proper" all the time; I joke around, but that's the keyword: "joke" I don't care about the idiots that say "Oh, she's 'trying to be white' " I am content with that, even though I'm not trying to be anything but myself. I am content with them saying that because at least I will have an opportunity to do something with my vocabulary and my way of speaking. Maybe some people should try it.
Hmm.. What else?
*Oh! Boy don't let me forget about the "hood" life thing. Okay, "little gangster" , is your "mob" going to help you get a job? Believe me, writing "crip gang" on your job application is NOT going to help you. Those people do not care what hood you are repping when you come in for an interview. They barely care about your name... Get with the program people!! Also, ladies, it is not cute to try to be in a gang or even trying to do "hood" things... LIVE OUTSIDE OF YOUR STEREOTYPE! My black people... some of you, about 59%, are making those stereotypes stick. I am sooo tired of seeing black people gang banging, fighting, killing each other, skipping class, smoking, drinking, getting pregnant, and etc. Come on guys, we are a great nation of people.. We should improve, not get worse. We are already a minority. Our people DIED to get us where we are today. Take advantage of what we have.. Education, rights, freedom(somewhat), and opportunity. Don't blame the whites or Mexicans because you can't get off YOUR *** to do YOUR job. Please...*
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 8:04 PM UTC