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Dream Fisher Feb 2020
She sits out on the sand
Stretching her wings out,
Watching the others fly over the land,
She doubts her ability to soar
Over the waves as they crash.
She's afraid to take that jump,
Worried everyone would just laugh.
She turns back.

Up on a strong birch branch
She looks into a self-made nest
Where three dreamy eyed children hatched
Providing them a life she wished she had,
Hoping they see she tries her best
In a place where rest isn't even rest.

She cries out to the sun
As it drifts out from where she lays
Wondering when the day would come
When she has the strength to fly away
Megan Joseph Feb 2020
it becomes me.
i am it.
we blend in harmony,
you and me.

a bird with clipped wings
am i;
no desire to fly,
nor the strength.
i become nothing.
who am i,
now that i am alone?
my mouth opens,
but i no longer have any breath.
it was hard to come up with a title for this
The Calm Feb 2020
My dear little bird,
don't be afraid to fly
even though so many have dropped to the ground
and you hear them cry

My dear little bird,
don't be afraid to sing
even though the winds may blow
still hold out your wings

My dear little bird,
there's one thing that I know
love and fortune favor the brave,
and experience will help you grow.
Don't be afraid to love someone
Tina RSH Feb 2020
You come to me in hunger
preying on my flesh.
I nuzzle your weary feathers
Now they feel robust again
And fly you high to the sky.
I am not your food dear.
There's only so much of me I can give away.
Shofi Ahmed Jan 2020
The free-flying bird
always eyes on the high
looking for a new blue sky.
If only, can it ever own
a little twig on the tree?
On a tree when does it fly
the next mo it sways away!
yellow soul Jan 2020
If I were a bird
I know where I would fly
I would fly away
Jenish Jan 2020
Long long ago in a lonely lovely hill
When earth was young, handsome and green
Besides the meadow near the curly winding flow
There stood a tree proudly high and spry.

Swaying and dancing in wheezy pleasy breeze
Never was he still, always in a swing.
Not even a speck, not a little flea
Never allowed any, sitting in his spray.

Winder came to hinder, pouring all her snow
Our tree kept fighting, throwing all his snow.
Jutting high he stood, leafy and green
In the midst of an ocean of falling snowy flakes.

Two little sparrows, flying from the north
Searching for a shade in that minacious wind.
Saw the mighty tree, swiftly they descent
Nestled in his branches to save their little lives.

Before they could settle, hurled to the ground
Without any mercy, our dancing prancing tree.
Again they tried, again thrown to ground
Again and again, bereft of any kindness.

Tired and puffing that little sparrow mother
Sprawled on his feet fighting for her breath.
Two tiny pearls rolled from her eyes
Smelted on his foot with her warmth and pain.

Dazed and watching, the mighty tree stood
Feeling all the pain the little creature bear.
Heavy at his heart, Heavy was his branches
Forlorn and silent, melting hefty heart.

The feathery teeny couple, eyed the tree quiet
Perched on his branches, prudent and happy.
Later on that day, picking twigs and leaves
Weaving with care, they made their winsome nest.

The dotish dancing tree, spying all their actions
Tussled with tempest, stayed there without motion.
Not a single leaf, not a petty branch
Not even a sigh, he uttered without care.

The pair of lovely birds, huddled in their home
Shared lovely blankets, spreading wings and feathers.
Peeping through his leaves and crimson little branches
He watched the birds slept, with a sense of love.
  
Teeming deep-felt care, bearing flakes and fall
Proud dancing tree, stood there rapt and frozen.
Winter slowly left and the spring was yet to come
The tiny sparrow mother, laid three wonder eggs.

Hugged and rolled in love, day and night in hurry
Feeble tweets and cry, woke the vigilant tree.
Weeny songs of love, doting brush of quills
Tiny goofy beaks, jutted from the nest.

Like a foster father, our tree stood blessed and chilled
Wished to rock and spin, but moved not in the least.
Time kept flying away, spring came dazzling in
Pretty little chicks, learned to flutter and dance.

Rapture spilled around, florets blossomed out
Covered nacarat flowers, stood he shy and blushed.
Chasing flies and bees, singing songs of love
They float around their grandpa, lovely wonder kids.

Swinging salmon fruits, he fed the little birds
Bowing head and pride, with a dancing heart.
The naughty sparrow chicks, poohed on his branches
But the mighty tree, never mind their doodles.

As the wings got stronger, they soared high and far
On the vicinal lands and to the distant shores
Sailing wonder worlds, flying with their dreams
But never forgot to return, for a goodnight sleep.

On to the cerulean sky, not any farewell words
The happy little family, one day flown and gone.
Watching day and night, our doomed dancing tree
Waited for their return, dreadful and as dead.

Sun shed all his splendors to wake and make him happy
Dismal clouds cried, drenching him in showers.
Winter came and poured, covered him in snow
The dancing tree never moved not a single leaf.

From distant snowy clouds chirping sounds he heard
Woken from his slumber, shaking all his snow.
In wheezy pleasy breeze, swayed and danced in glee
Waited for the couple and one more tale of love.
Saige Jan 2020
Worms were never appealing to you -
seeds, berries, echos, and ghosts you preferred.
And kindred spirits and misty mornings.

I remember I found you alone -
your brothers and sisters strewn around you,
like dead leaves in the fall -
a whisper of their bird-song
still sighing on the wind.

So I held you in my shirt's breast pocket,
and whistled while I knitted a nest.
Just a little bundle of grass and string
but you settled in.

I thought you would sing sad songs in the evenings,
like the wise women that sat on porch swings.
But you just mourned with soulful eyes,
haunted by the shadows of your past.

You waited for something,
a memory, a word, a release.
I saw the knowing in you then -
the knowing of much more than life and death,
than seeds and windows and metal bars.

And I sighed.
How much I long for my own release,
not from life, no:
from my own expectations,
from single-stories and stereotypes.

Let me fly free, you cry.
You're too much like me, I sigh.
Look at the caged bird, surrounded by barbed wire.
It's always complaining about this and that and freedom and stuff.
Hey little bird! Aren't you grateful at all?
What would you do in the wild wide, perilous sky?
Can't you see my wingless, spineless vultures?
Don't you see how grateful and praiseful they are?
The little bird does not reply.
It pecks and pecks until the cage turns blood.
To get some blue, it's paying in red.
Dedicated to all the nations and people fighting and shedding their blood for freedom in every corner of the earth
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