christineredgate
Winner of the Copeland Wildlife Photographer of th
Thanks Merlin,and yes a very Happy Christmas and Best Wishes for 2011,to all who have added to this thread,and indeed to all BF members.
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Birds and poetry (1 Viewer)
- Thread starter christineredgate
- Start date
Here’s a poem by Sara Teasdale we haven’t had yet. “Redbirds” (Northern Cardinals) are famous for their beautiful whistled songs.
Redbirds
Redbirds, redbirds,
Long and long ago,
What a honey-call you had
In hills I used to know;
Redbud, buckberry,
Wild plum-tree
And proud river sweeping
Southward to the sea,
Brown and gold in the sun
Sparkling far below,
Trailing stately round her bluffs
Where the poplars grow—
Redbirds, redbirds,
Are you singing still
As you sang one May day
On Saxton's Hill?
--Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
Redbirds
Redbirds, redbirds,
Long and long ago,
What a honey-call you had
In hills I used to know;
Redbud, buckberry,
Wild plum-tree
And proud river sweeping
Southward to the sea,
Brown and gold in the sun
Sparkling far below,
Trailing stately round her bluffs
Where the poplars grow—
Redbirds, redbirds,
Are you singing still
As you sang one May day
On Saxton's Hill?
--Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
christineredgate
Winner of the Copeland Wildlife Photographer of th
Thanks Fugl,a lovely poem.on reading this I can visualise one of KC's Cardinal photos .
Many thanks.
Many thanks.
One more from Teasdale--
Meadowlarks
In the silver light after a storm,
Under dripping boughs of bright new green,
I take the low path to hear the meadowlarks
Alone and high-hearted as if I were a queen.
What have I to fear in life or death
Who have known three things: the kiss in the night,
The white flying joy when a song is born,
And meadowlarks whistling in silver light.
--Sara Teasdale
Meadowlarks
In the silver light after a storm,
Under dripping boughs of bright new green,
I take the low path to hear the meadowlarks
Alone and high-hearted as if I were a queen.
What have I to fear in life or death
Who have known three things: the kiss in the night,
The white flying joy when a song is born,
And meadowlarks whistling in silver light.
--Sara Teasdale
Time for a new poem. Here’s one from Emily Dickinson I don’t believe we’ve had yet
The Bluebird
Before you thought of spring,
Except as a surmise,
You see, God bless his suddenness,
A fellow in the skies
Of independent hues,
A little weather-worn,
Inspiriting habiliments
Of indigo and brown.
With specimens of song,
As if for you to choose,
Discretion in the interval,
With gay delays he goes
To some superior tree
Without a single leaf,
And shouts for joy to nobody
But his seraphic self!
--Emily Dickinson
The Bluebird
Before you thought of spring,
Except as a surmise,
You see, God bless his suddenness,
A fellow in the skies
Of independent hues,
A little weather-worn,
Inspiriting habiliments
Of indigo and brown.
With specimens of song,
As if for you to choose,
Discretion in the interval,
With gay delays he goes
To some superior tree
Without a single leaf,
And shouts for joy to nobody
But his seraphic self!
--Emily Dickinson
christineredgate
Winner of the Copeland Wildlife Photographer of th
Thanks Fugl,a lovely poem.Hi,Merlin ,glad to see you are still around,and many thanks for your contributions.
I guess it’s up to me to keep the thread going, since everyone else has stopped contributing. Here’s another fine poem by Sara Teasdale.
Sea Longing
A thousand miles beyond this sun-steeped wall
Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand,
The ebbing tide forsakes the listless land
With the old murmur, long and musical;
The windy waves mount up and curve and fall,
And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow,--
Tho' I am inland far, I hear and know,
For I was born the sea's eternal thrall.
I would that I were there and over me
The cold insistence of the tide would roll,
Quenching this burning thing men call the soul,--
Then with the ebbing I should drift and be
Less than the smallest shell along the shoal,
Less than the sea-gulls calling to the sea.
--Sara Teasdale
Sea Longing
A thousand miles beyond this sun-steeped wall
Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand,
The ebbing tide forsakes the listless land
With the old murmur, long and musical;
The windy waves mount up and curve and fall,
And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow,--
Tho' I am inland far, I hear and know,
For I was born the sea's eternal thrall.
I would that I were there and over me
The cold insistence of the tide would roll,
Quenching this burning thing men call the soul,--
Then with the ebbing I should drift and be
Less than the smallest shell along the shoal,
Less than the sea-gulls calling to the sea.
--Sara Teasdale
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Nature__lover
Well-known member
Hi all. I like to write poetry- Haiku usually but sometimes longer stuff-
and it's almost always about wildlife and birds. here's one I wrote last april.
The crow-
He stands
watching the sundown
staring out across the lands
the blazing lights cause him to frown.
The sun bleeds colour, staining grey cloud
slowly, she slips away
white~tick~gulls swoop, cawing loud
the sun will come again at day.
Nothing is near except loneliness and bark
no friends beside the leafless trees
colourless, and still stark
swaying in the breeze.
No part of him moves
except his dark feathers in windy air
day dies away, the sunlight soothes
shadows creep up on his lair.
The sun has now left
the moon shows in her pearly gown
she who makes the day her theft
stars are her glinting crown.
A gull taunts
stars ***** the sky
the night flaunts
splaying his vast wings, he begins to fly.
and it's almost always about wildlife and birds. here's one I wrote last april.
The crow-
He stands
watching the sundown
staring out across the lands
the blazing lights cause him to frown.
The sun bleeds colour, staining grey cloud
slowly, she slips away
white~tick~gulls swoop, cawing loud
the sun will come again at day.
Nothing is near except loneliness and bark
no friends beside the leafless trees
colourless, and still stark
swaying in the breeze.
No part of him moves
except his dark feathers in windy air
day dies away, the sunlight soothes
shadows creep up on his lair.
The sun has now left
the moon shows in her pearly gown
she who makes the day her theft
stars are her glinting crown.
A gull taunts
stars ***** the sky
the night flaunts
splaying his vast wings, he begins to fly.
Nature__lover
Well-known member
hahah! can't believe bird forum blocked out the word p-r-i-c-k !!!
Nature__lover
Well-known member
also thought I would share this poem. one of my very favourites.
Kingfisher~
That kingfisher jewelling upstream
seems to leave a streak of itself
in the bright air. The trees
are all the better for its passing.
It's not a mineral eater, though it looks it.
It doesn't nip nicks out of the edges
of rainbows. - It dives
into the burly water, then, perched
on a Japanese bough, gulps
into its own incandescence
a wisp of minnow, a warrior stickleback.
- Or it vanishes into its burrow, resplendent
Samurai, returning home
to his stinking slum.
Kingfisher~
That kingfisher jewelling upstream
seems to leave a streak of itself
in the bright air. The trees
are all the better for its passing.
It's not a mineral eater, though it looks it.
It doesn't nip nicks out of the edges
of rainbows. - It dives
into the burly water, then, perched
on a Japanese bough, gulps
into its own incandescence
a wisp of minnow, a warrior stickleback.
- Or it vanishes into its burrow, resplendent
Samurai, returning home
to his stinking slum.
christineredgate
Winner of the Copeland Wildlife Photographer of th
hi,Amy,we meet again,you are a very talented young lady.
Fugl,I do have some verse to add from a discovery from a young guy on Flickr.He has given his permission for me to share his prose and photos on this thread.So within the next few days will add something.
We need to keep going for 2011.Young Amy,please feel free to add whatever ,whenever.
Fugl,I do have some verse to add from a discovery from a young guy on Flickr.He has given his permission for me to share his prose and photos on this thread.So within the next few days will add something.
We need to keep going for 2011.Young Amy,please feel free to add whatever ,whenever.
A very fine poem indeed with its startling last line. North American Kingfishers are well-known for their noisome burrows filled with excrement & rotting fish & it sounds like the same must be true of the old world birds.
Are you the author, BTW, you don't say?
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Nature__lover
Well-known member
oh no I am not the author. I am of the crow poem but not the kingfisher one.
couldn't find the author for it.
Thanks for the clarification. I hope you’ll continue to post your own work here as well as any other gems like the “Kingfisher” you might happen to unearth.
Are you aware of the index of what’s already been posted on this very long thread, BTW? You’ll find the latest version in post #2476
Nature__lover
Well-known member
Thought I'd share a few of my 'shortform' poems.... here's some haiku :
sunset moment-
etched into my heart
twisting swallows
~
A greenfinch..
is an extra leaf
on the willow
~
frost across farmlands
sun sends it twinkling as
the swallows skim water
~
afternoon chill-
a flock of sparrows bathe
in a melt-water puddle
~
the crunch of frost-
a male bullfinch rises
from the rosehips
~
birdbath water cascades
from the shake of a starling's head--
winter sun
~
fire in her belly
and on her crest-
goldcrest
~
beauty in everyday life
all the yellows
of a blue tit.
all the poems are to be read separately
sunset moment-
etched into my heart
twisting swallows
~
A greenfinch..
is an extra leaf
on the willow
~
frost across farmlands
sun sends it twinkling as
the swallows skim water
~
afternoon chill-
a flock of sparrows bathe
in a melt-water puddle
~
the crunch of frost-
a male bullfinch rises
from the rosehips
~
birdbath water cascades
from the shake of a starling's head--
winter sun
~
fire in her belly
and on her crest-
goldcrest
~
beauty in everyday life
all the yellows
of a blue tit.
all the poems are to be read separately
christineredgate
Winner of the Copeland Wildlife Photographer of th
Sneaking up on my enemy
He stands upon one long grey leg
surveys the ice below
Tempted,thwarted ,each in turn
their grip won't let him go.
These tasty treats that trawl the trench
beneath the frozen pond,
the lure of Koy and Golden Orfe
he cannot see beyond.
And though he is my enemy
and covets what is mine
I shoo him off reluctantly:
He does look rather fine.
Photo and poem by
Danny Reynolds .
Danny very kindly gave his permission for me to submit to this thread.Thankyou Danny
He stands upon one long grey leg
surveys the ice below
Tempted,thwarted ,each in turn
their grip won't let him go.
These tasty treats that trawl the trench
beneath the frozen pond,
the lure of Koy and Golden Orfe
he cannot see beyond.
And though he is my enemy
and covets what is mine
I shoo him off reluctantly:
He does look rather fine.
Photo and poem by
Danny Reynolds .
Danny very kindly gave his permission for me to submit to this thread.Thankyou Danny
Attachments
Last edited:
christineredgate
Winner of the Copeland Wildlife Photographer of th
Swan Portrait
The legacy left by careless anglers:
And so you slide
from bank to bank
Haughty,high and fearing none
Your mate has died
But you hold your rank
A king of grace ,a tearless swan
Below the surface
Legs full pelt
Propel this vision through the dawn
Stonecast face
For fear t'would melt
So solemnly,he soldiers on.
Prose and photo by Danny Reynolds.
The legacy left by careless anglers:
And so you slide
from bank to bank
Haughty,high and fearing none
Your mate has died
But you hold your rank
A king of grace ,a tearless swan
Below the surface
Legs full pelt
Propel this vision through the dawn
Stonecast face
For fear t'would melt
So solemnly,he soldiers on.
Prose and photo by Danny Reynolds.
Attachments
Si Clayton
Well-known member
For those flooded,
Flood Cockatoos
Seasons of water,
Bring light soon,
Between the shadow of empty nests.
Hope cries brightly from the four,
Glossy pallbearers
Black and restless in a crystal sky.
Rowing to the soaring sun,
Above a river,
Running timeless to the sea.
Flood Cockatoos
Seasons of water,
Bring light soon,
Between the shadow of empty nests.
Hope cries brightly from the four,
Glossy pallbearers
Black and restless in a crystal sky.
Rowing to the soaring sun,
Above a river,
Running timeless to the sea.
