The Inner Sky Quotes by Rainer Maria Rilke
Poem 1: Flying In the Sky
Birds(10 Short Poems) - Poem by DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK
Of all living things, there's something about birds that never fail to move mankind, especially a poetic mind. The power of your liquid verse I think matches with the power of bird's liquid notes, as you said. A lovely poem. Report Reply. Great poems on Birds, I agree with Rajnish Ji's comments. The combination of ten short poems regarding birds has much impact on readers for its beautiful narration and haunting expresssion. Each little poem is unique on its own perception.
Few precious little moments of peace can make you have a rundown of emotions. Like when you lie on your bed with your hands folded back. In that precious moment, you can feel your existence and how things around you are changing, second per second. How the view from the window changes every day, how kids you met a year ago have grown up and how birds are similar to humans. You can feel what their heart holds, you can see yourself inside them.
The wild duck startles like a sudden thought, And heron slow as if it might be caught. The flopping crows on weary wings go by And grey beard jackdaws noising as they fly. The crowds of starnels whizz and hurry by, And darken like a clod the evening sky. The larks like thunder rise and suthy round, Then drop and nestle in the stubble ground. The wild swan hurries hight and noises loud With white neck peering to the evening clowd. The weary rooks to distant woods are gone.
I'm listening intently to the birds Outside my window as promised For they seem to be talking birds Intent on singing it out if pissed Or chanting it out if challenged .
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Crows perch near the St. Johns Bridge in North Portland in December. A dead crow in Portland gave life to a poem that put Pattie Palmer-Baker at the top of a worldwide literary contest. Then, while online one day, she stumbled across an announcement for the Bivona Prize, a literary competition for writers older than The prize is named for the late Ginnie Siena Bivona, a novelist, poet and book editor who began her literary career in her late 40s and co-founded the Texas-based organization Ageless Authors to support senior writers. Larry Upshaw, executive director of Ageless Authors, said more than 50 judges winnowed approximately international submissions to three finalists. The organization announced Palmer-Baker as the winner July
Sure maybe ye've heard the storm-thrush Whistlin' bould in March, Before there's a primrose peepin' out, Or a wee red cone on the larch; Whistlin' the sun to come out o' the cloud, An' the wind to come over the sea, But for all he can whistle so clear an' loud, He's never the bird for me. Sure maybe ye've seen the song-thrush After an April rain Slip from in-undher the drippin' leaves, Wishful to sing again; An' low wi' love when he's near the nest, An' loud from the top o' the tree, But for all he can flutter the heart in your breast, He's never the bird for me. Sure maybe ye've heard the cushadoo Callin' his mate in May, When one sweet thought is the whole of his life, An' he tells it the one sweet way. But my heart is sore at the cushadoo Filled wid his own soft glee, Over an' over his "me an' you! Sure maybe ye've heard the red-breast Singin' his lone on a thorn, Mindin' himself o' the dear days lost, Brave wid his heart forlorn. The time is in dark November, An' no spring hopes has he: "Remember," he sings, "remember!
When the wind came I took to my wings I flew quite unsteadily at first But it was worth it. We were born to fly Up in the real-high sky, To sing with you, To dance in the stars And fly away with you, Over the seas and the mountains. We fly to the city that never sleeps, Over more mountains we travel. We swim to meet with our family, Back in Peru. One little bird, one wonderful bird, Is more than just a song. For storms have occurred—another can be heard.