Bird’s Nest


Winter winds have come and gone,
Empty nest awaiting the return.
Under heat of the northern feathers;
New birds settle at break of dawn.

The innocent cries of  the newly born;
Seeking sweet crumbs filled with love,
Having not learned actions nor words.
Fly at once without fear of thorn.

The flaws you make have fear arise.
The wings trembling cold and small.
Preparing for the first of flights;
Soar throughout the cloudless skies.

The nest alone expecting to be filled;
Raw emptiness of the wintry season.
For when the sun is glistening bright;
The flight of birds shall be fulfilled.


Photo Credits:

Form: Prose

Posted for Poems in April @ Real Toads



Lo! To be foolish once again;
How delightful would it be?
To discard all thee muddles,
Whilst roaming around free!

To be young once again;
Splash in the river stream.
To travel back in time;
Chase the impossible dream!

To be clueless once again;
Lose track of time.
Disburse all thee wealth;
And travel without a dime!

To fall in love again;
Lose all thee sanity.
Get thy heart broken;
Reverse back in reality!

For everyone is foolish;
Before acquiring wisdom.
Hence; the circle of life;
Is quite a gripping system.

Lo! To be foolish once again;
How delightful would it be?
To discard all thee muddles,
Whilst roaming around free!


Photo Credits:

Posted on Midweek Motif @ Poets United

& Posted for Poems In April @ Real Toads



A country house nearby;
Its fence lined with roses.
Its elegant front door,
An invitation proposes.

Whilst passing through the house;
Hand in hand with Carrie.
Upon asking the address,
Looking coy and wary.

Alas! Join thee hands,
In the dew coming coldly.
Thee turn to go up front,
Knock the door boldly.

Their breath coming fast;
Hands both trembling.
There when the mistress comes,
Impetuous and scrambling.

Pray, hwa art thou?
Thee lass thus proposes;
Its season of Spring,
And two come for roses.

Alas! chuckling little much;
To hwa thee supposes.
Thy grants us by kindness,
The boon of her roses.


Photo Credits:

Posted for Tuesday Platform @ Real Toads

The Hourglass

The time has come;
For us to succumb.
To own our ways;
To earn due praise.

Repeatedly time;
Lingers to our side.
Through affliction is;
Our solitary guide.

Woes and sorrows;
Time thus heals.
To Creator above;
Makes us kneel.

And so, when time;
To the end climbs,
Left behind are things;
Holding on like strings.

The time has come;
For us to succumb.
To own our ways,
To earn due praise.


Photo Credits:

“Time is the school in which we learn.” – Joan Didion

Posted for Susie Clevenger’s Challenge

Posted on Tuesday Prompt @ Poetry Jam

Poetry Jam

A Blackbird’s Song

red-wing blackbird

The blackbird’s song thus convey.
To leave your worries all at bay.
The bird sings till the sun is down.
In the thicket of trees far from town.

A blackbird whistling upon an oak tree.
Awakens old memories in me.
As I walk among the fields in spring.
I hear the birds on the shrubbery sing.

Although the distance from home is long.
But when I hear the blackbird’s song.
I feel the moisture brought by rain.
And hence the flowers bloom again.

The blackbird’s song gains my affection.
Thus adding to my mind’s perception.
This song I take back with me home.
And whistle while my hair I comb.


Photo Credits:

Form: Prose

Posted for Grace’s Challenge @ Real Toads