The Inner Sky Quotes by Rainer Maria Rilke
Poem 1: Flying In the Sky
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.
Birds(10 Short Poems) - Poem by DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK
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.
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.
Again, like the poor, birds are often all but invisible to many of us. While we often take them for granted it is almost impossible to remain entirely oblivious to these fascinating creatures. They are highly vocal and birdsong forms an exotic yet everyday accompaniment to our daily lives. Even far from the sea, the seagull — arrogantly thuggish, strutting his stuff on city pavements — is now as familiar as the common sparrow once used to be. Few gardens are without blackbirds, thrushes, blue tits or pigeons. Crows gather blackly on telephone wires and even raptors are less rare than they had become. Birdwatchers themselves seem to be a combination of naturalist, scientist and complete obsessive.
Poems by Bird Species
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 only problem is that you are a caged bird, who never sings. It is ironic to see that birds are trapped in cities and humans in society.
An acclaimed American poet, storyteller, activist, and autobiographer, Maya Angelou was born Marguerite Johnson in St. Louis, Missouri. Prose Home Harriet Blog. Visit Home Events Exhibitions Library. Newsletter Subscribe Give. Poetry Foundation.
Have you ever seen a bird, flying in the sky? Free from all rivalries and and problems in the unbounded sky. Contrary to humans Feeling the beauty and independence of world Away from the interweaving crowd. And never even they have any tension for food and shroud. With hearts full of proud and A relief of sigh.