I hear the free
Wind,
And the birds sing.
And long to be
Free
As the unconquerable wind
And birds
That sing.
Tag Archives: birds
Words
I hear the birds
And think on windblown
Words outflown
By birds.
Ere I Wrote a Word
Ere I wrote a word
I heard the morning bird
Who knows not of plot,
Yet he
Inspires poetry.
Keats had his Nightingale.
But All hearts fail.
Though poetry lives on
When poets are gone
Birds
An intense sense
Of my mortality
Comes to me
When I hear
The sweet clear
Song of birds.
Oft when caught
In useless thought
Or in empty words,
I hear the birds.
I see beauty.
And am free
Poet Kevin Morris Reading His Poem Blackbird on Youtube
Yesterday, I recorded my poem Blackbird on youtube,
The poem came to me as I sat in my mum’s kitchen/dining area in Liverpool. The big clock on the wall ticked away the seconds whilst, in the garden I could hear the song of a blackbird.
Leaving
On my way home
I touched the stone
Of my local church.
And longed to stay
With the singing birds
On this summer evening.
I have oft heard
The birds singing
And regretted leaving.
I envy them
For, unlike men
They do not weep.
For they see not
The final sleep.
While I
Knowing that man must die
Have the beauty of birdsong,
Which does not last long
Shadow
A shadow followed me
From tree to tree
As I did pass
Along the woodland path.
I paused to hear
The sweet birds sing.
And thought of spring
And the passing year.
Although I forgot my shadow,
My shadow did not go.
For our sweet birdsong
Does not last long.
On A Chilly Winter’s Evening
On a chilly winter’s night
The song of a bird
I heard
As he sang to me
From a churchyard tree.
Such delight,
And poignancy.
But that was in me.
A Bird On The Wing
Below are 2 slightly different versions of a poem I composed earlier today.
—
A bird on the wing
Is such a temporary thing.
Though, when it dies,
In poetry, it survives.
—
A bird on the wing
Is such a temporary thing.
Though, when it dies,
It’s poem may survive.
I Drink My Wine
I drink my wine,
As evening gently falls.
And listen to bird calls.
Their poetry, far surpasses mine.