Tag Archives: #birds

Fields of Dreams

Fields of Dreams

The distant cars go by,

faintly headed to unknown destinations;

birds are flying endlessly hither and thither,

expeditious routes taking them on flights of fancy and need;

farm machinery is turning the haylage in anticipation of three cuts – if the weather holds –

and the sweet scent of grasses

gives a tang to my nostrils…

fields of dreams,

I live in thee.

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As the crow flies

As the crow flies

One lone crow

in a sky-blue sky;

I walked along

as he flew by;

upon his way

he did go;

where that was

I do not know.

“Low-Flying Geese!”

“Low-Flying Geese!”

“Beware Low-Flying Geese!”

the sign read;

and then there was the small print;

“Or you’ll have the Low-Flying Geese Police to deal with!”

This sounded like a warning, and a threat; and I don’t appreciate warnings, or threats.

That was when it hit me.

Upon Seagulls

Upon Seagulls

A seagull laughed at me once;

then laughed at me many times;

but, I wasn’t going to be mocked,

by a seagull;

ideas to my mind soon flocked,

and I knew that I could get back at that gull

within the depths of my rhymes:

“A seagull had a silly laugh,

all the grace of a drunken giraffe;

a habit of being particularly nasty

to a tourist and his pasty;

pinching food with out a qualm;

then perching at a height, so calm;

enjoying its ill-gotten fare

then repeating the feat without a care.”

Oh, that didn’t really seem to work;

I made the gull seem cool,

myself a berk.

It’s hard to mock the feathered ones

that pinch your pasties, nick your buns;

I hear their laughter overhead,

and flinch at them in utter dread.

Dawn Chorus

Birdsong

is all I need;

apart from the bare necessities of life

(and you can sing that song, if you wish).

They call,

they answer;

finches, starlings, the humble wren;

redbreast, blackbird, sparrow, then…

having sung,

they sing again.

Haiku: ‘Twelve’ by Graeme Sandford

12_Days_of_Christmas
Christmas: Day One dawns...
A bird of some kind... with 'tree!'
What is going on?

Day Two... What's in store?
More birds (but, no more 'pear' trees)
NB: Get Bird Seed.

Day Three: More wildfowl!
Now getting beyond a joke;
What next, I wonder.

Day Four: Learning French;
Having to build aviary;
Need some counseling!

Day Five: Delivery;
By two security men
In armoured vehicle!

Day Six: Pawned the rings;
Bought a good set of ear muffs;
Honking, Squawking birds!

Day Seven: Enough!
What can I do with these swans?
I can't eat the things?

Day Eight: What! For real?
It's like that old Christmas song
I'm not taking this!

Day Nine: All sorted.
Restraining Order granted;
Refused the Dancers!

Day Ten: Went to beach.
Left a note on my front door:
'Not today, thank you!'

Day Eleven: Birds gone.
They flew, waddled, swam, were sold;
And, 'peace' now returns.

Day Twelve: Knock at door!
"You ungrateful little sh..."
"Sorry, just moved in."

Tweet This!

The trouble with birds is…
They won’t sit still – even for a minute
So, if I’m trying to take a photo
Of a lark or a linnet
By the time I’ve pressed the shutter down the birdies are just not in it!
“Watch the birdie!” Ha! What’s to show
From my photographs – maybe a crow
Or a pigeon will be my best shot.
I’ve taken loads of pictures – and they fly from the lot! 
Take fright; take flight;  here’s the thing

There’s not much to show when them twitterers take wing.