BIRD POEMS by John Pemberton

AVIAN NEED

2011-12-21T10:17:00.000-08:00

When dishing out bits on which dicky birds feed,
Remember it's also fresh water they need.

WOODPIGEONS

2010-12-21T05:24:00.000-08:00

Way in the distance a woodpigeon coos,
Waking his kin in innumerable queues.

FEATHERED UMBRELLA

2010-12-21T05:15:00.000-08:00

Lucky’s the duckling that needs to seek cover:
It sneaks beneath its impervious mother.

PRIOR KNOWLEDGE

2010-12-21T05:01:00.000-08:00

The songbirds know without rehearsal
That after fledging comes dispersal.

GRAPPLING BLACKBIRDS

2010-12-20T09:37:00.000-08:00

You know your garden is great to inhabit
When rival blackbirds will grapple to grab it.

SCREAMING SEAGULLS

2010-04-12T11:34:00.000-07:00

While gulls are screaming as if they’re deranged,
Between sweet dunnocks soft notes are exchanged.

POSTURING PEACOCK

2010-04-12T10:27:00.000-07:00

The peacock’s posturing’s obviously meant
To show the ladies his urgent intent.

APRIL BIRDSONG

2009-03-03T09:28:00.000-08:00

We all can rejoice
When April appears:
The month with a voice
To delight our ears.

SPRING ROBINS

2009-02-24T09:18:00.000-08:00

Watch robins in spring with fresh feathers endowed;
You’ll find two are an item, three make a crowd.

RECYCLED

2009-02-01T10:46:00.000-08:00

The withering stems of winter’s distress
Spring’s birds will recycle, weaving their nests.

MISTLE THRUSHES

2009-01-08T11:11:00.000-08:00

Mistle thrushes on January days
Pierce, with song, matutinal haze.
Oh, what ardour their singing conveys;
How we cherish such precious displays.

HAPPY SPARROW

2008-11-30T10:15:00.000-08:00

Vocal the blackbird with fluty song,
- Content the sparrow that chirps along;
Flashy the peacock's vivid displey,
- Content the sparrow in brown and grey;
Dashing the swallow that flits around,
- Content the sparrow that combs the ground;
Menaced the migrants that cross the foam,
- Content the sparrow that stays at home.

- Happy the sparrow in my barrow.

THE RESCUE

2008-05-15T04:48:00.000-07:00

Pale gulls, like kites, hung lightly on the wind,
Not caring if the foaming waves beneath,
That churned the swirling pebbles, might rescind
Their threat to heap torn sea-wrack on the beach.

Unheeding danger from an undertow,
Two rowers swept their boat away from shore
Towards a ledge of rock that dipped below
The rolling sea, to rise and sink once more.

That course was bent on sure catastrophe.
From high a dozen gulls in frenzied flight
Swooped down. In fear, the boys pulled hard to sea;
Found calm, exhausted, shuddering with fright.

No sustenance, no hope but prayer, they prayed.
Then came a rescue-crew, attaching lines,
And duly saved-to-saviours thanks conveyed,
While white-winged coastguards tarried in their minds.

GULLS

2008-04-30T10:07:00.001-07:00

They scavenge their food on the rubbish tip,
A daily allowance in just one trip!
Thereafter they pester with raucous call.
Don’t feed them! Beware of their guano gall!

WARBLERS

2008-04-14T10:01:00.001-07:00

O warblers, homeward fly

From warmer glades

By land and waves,

Your heartful notes to ply.

A vacant age we've spent

Since last you'd flute,

Mere months in truth -

So long our yearnings pent.

How spry, sweet sylvan waifs!

Despite your flights

And hunger stress,

Like sprites to mate you haste.

Glad chiffchaff, sharply shout

Your twin-note name,

Again, again,

New-leafy trees about.

Soon, every whereabout

New birds will hold,

Each voicing bold

To claim its habitat.

And when all nesting's done,

And fledglings flown,

You'll quit your home,

We know, for winter sun.

SUMMER BIRDS

2008-04-14T09:59:00.000-07:00

Come summer, wings the swallow
The shouting cuckoo to follow.

THE STORM

2008-04-14T09:50:00.000-07:00

My body hugged a sturdy wall;

I felt the sting of bursting spray

As roaring rollers, awesome-tall,

Engulfed the rocks of glistening grey.

Loose strands were tangled round my face,

A salty taste assailed my lips;

Cascading showers hung in space,

And cliffs by splintered light were lit.

As if in pain a siren wailed

In waves beyond the churning main;

The sky by scudding clouds was veiled,

While howling furies lashed again.

Then through the rage a puffin winged,

Its painted bill replete with fish,

And lonely faught the buffeting

To reach and feed its hidden chick.

SPRING ARRIVALS

2008-04-14T09:41:00.000-07:00

Still to the flowering hedge in England's spring

The faithful whitethroat wends his flitting way,

Intent to find a favoured sprig to sing

His scratchy song, and win himself a mate.

Blue-streamered swallows dip the village pond

And cling to lines, surveying nesting-barns;

Unseen, the cuckoo makes his calls, beyond

Bright yellow-wagtail fields the shepherd farms.

Such specks of sound and colour bring delight,

Uplifting joys we savour as our own;

And yet, to none have we the claim of right.

Let breed! And leave their habitats alone!

THE SPIRIT OF THE MOORS

2008-04-14T09:32:00.000-07:00

A hiker, probing deep the wide outdoors,

Hears, on the wind, a two-note plaintive tone:

A whistled call - the spirit of the moors -

And finds, intrigued, he's not alone.

The wary, watchful ranger sees alight

Atop a hummock near its nest, a guard:

Pied front, gold-spangled cape in gleam of light;

Keen-eyed but silent - not a whistle heard.

In time, to distant pastures close the shore

A neatly-patterned flock of plovers flies,

Identified by wistful calls once more,

Though drabber now in modest plumage guise.

For months they'll search to find sufficient fare,

From fields and tidal flats, till tempered chills

And freshened feathers set the hour of their

Return - to tease new walkers on the hills!

REDBREAST

2008-04-14T09:27:00.000-07:00

Affixed to a body round and brown

A jaunty head with a slender bill

A blushing breast of blow-away down

The perkiest tail that flicks at will

Of lightest weight each feathery wing

So slim his legs and tiny his eyes

A robin held is a fragile thing

-The way he fights is quite a surprise!

RECKONING

2008-04-14T09:16:00.000-07:00

Yon mother duck has learnt to count!
The fledglings quit their nest on high,
And when the last one's tumbled out,
She knows - and calls her dozen nigh.

PERFECT PEACE

2008-04-14T09:04:00.000-07:00

I stretched along a pathway seat

And barely dared to breathe:

So temperate the shadowed heat,

So zephyrous the breeze.

The very ripples in the brook

Ran noiseless past a field

Whereover quaintly-silent rooks

Their downy young concealed.

No call on inner calm I made,

Such still lay all around.

More perfect peace was never craved,

Nor deeper quiet found.

Asudden then a 'pecker drummed

Against a hollow bough;

A stunning bird, but how he stung

Awake my sleepy brow!

OFF LIMITS

2008-04-14T09:01:00.000-07:00

Unseemly deed! They land on a sloping roof,
The white-winged birds we link with the sea.
Their ungainly stance seems adequate proof
The sea is the place where they ought to be.

THE NIGHTINGALE

2008-04-14T08:57:00.000-07:00

Why should the nightingale win such acclaim

While other birds attract much meaner fame?

He sings when cloaked by dark; and through the day,

Unlike the soaring lark, he hides away.

By letting us observe his serenade,

He'd surely more deserve our accolade!

PEREGRINE

2008-04-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

Beside the seaward-looking, cryptic rock,

By green tenacious tufts in part concealed,

He kept his undetected watch aloft,

As unsuspecting waifs beneath him wheeled.

The ledge that scars the cliff is where he stood.

I saw his taloned feet and cloak of grey;

His chain-mail front, that dusky hood:

A predator, alert, intent on prey.

I turned and missed him fly. With tilted head

I spied him, high. Then suddenly, on cue,

Wings folded, talons primed, he plummeted

To strike his mark. And bursting feathers blew!

NIGHT BIRD

2008-04-13T13:16:00.000-07:00

In summer twilight, warm and still, is heard,

It seems from prickly perch against the sky,

A churring sound scarce credited to bird,

And eerie: fit to spook old Granville Rye.

Then woody scents descend upon the heath

And vaguely, through the afterglow of day,

A darkling hunter's silhouette appears

In twisting forays, chasing flitting prey.

Above the sleeping gorse he lifts and dips

In rarely-watched noctural courtship flight,

And claps his wings, like snaps of distant whips,

To coax a partner, savouring the night.

SAMPLING

2008-04-13T13:14:00.000-07:00

As migrant warblers wing their way,
On minor detours they will stray
To check the local food's okay,
Before deciding if they'll stay.

NIGHT AND DAY

2008-04-13T13:11:00.001-07:00

As the night sky starts to scowl,
All falls quiet, except the owl.
After dawn's o'erthrown the dark,
Tinkling sings the soaring lark.

POSER

2008-04-13T13:08:00.000-07:00

An elegant swan, impressively plumed,
Contorting its neck and primping each feather,
Rehearses its role with visitors due,
Preparing for photos, despite the weather!

NEW YEAR'S RIDE

2008-04-13T12:49:00.000-07:00

On year's first day I rode content

Through scenes no mortal could invent:

The rural landscape of my youth

That filled my days with joys enough.

In topmost twigs of tallest tree,

Defying winds of January,

Intrepid mistle thrush clung strong

To stir my spirits with his song.

Full-laden clouds above him louring,

Tit and wren below were scouring

Nettle-bed and prickly bramble,

Picking food for their survival.

Where grain lay spilt from farmer's sack,

Round rusty trough next rutted track,

Chaffinch, greenfinch, yellowhammer

Switched bare earth to bright-flecked banner.

I lunched ensconced by placid mere

And shared a vision of the year

With pairs of courting crested grebes

Displaying out beyond the reeds.

Chill blow abating from the north,

A spectral barn owl floated forth

In tempered air of calmer day,

To quarter fields in search of prey.

Then, like billowed smoke upcurling,

Puffed from hearth with damp log burning,

Flock joined flock of swirling starlings,

Woosh then hush in twists and turnings.

To stragging rooks they led my eye,

Black smudges brushed across the sky,

With chacking jackdaws interspersed,

Not rivaling to gain roost first.

Brief-parting clouds as day was done

Released a shaft of pallid sun

To light a meeting seldom seen:

A hundred magpies, close convened.

Encompassed by my cycled miles

Lay countryside that still beguiles.

Though far I've roved to seek things new,

I joy in what's at hand to view.

MELLOW THE BLACKBIRD

2008-04-13T12:33:00.000-07:00

Year's early weeks impose a ritual

Of constant claiming and defencing space

To meet the need for niche and victual

A brood, or more, of growing chicks creates.

His ardent sone, of fluty notes composed,

Delivered clear from roof of tree or gate,

All rivals warns, on regular patrols,

And serves betime to captivate a mate.

Who's thus allured soon sets about a nest,

Soft mud and mosses moulding to a bowl

That next is lined with grasses, softly pressed,

Where bluish, rust-flecked eggs may gently roll.

In cryptic plumage cloaked, the silent hen

Her huddled clutch of four now incubates.

By doting swain fed morsels in her den,

A two-week spell to hatch she contemplates.

Most diligent of birds, he 'waits the dawn

With patient song in slowly fading night,

Till light allows a probing of the lawn,

To feed his leaf-hid charges, safe from sight.

On instant alert at the flirting tail

Of a menacing magpie's strutting stroll,

His strident, clattering shouts assail

The villain's approach to his fledglings' home.

Though should the silhouette of hawk appear,

In flight or perched to spy with keenest eye,

His kin will then the softest whistles hear

As warning of the predator nearby.

My days, like his, so many turmoils hide

I find that knotted nerves will not untie.

But then all tension flees. At eventide,

When mellow the blackbird sings, at ease am I.

MARKING TIME

2008-04-13T12:22:00.000-07:00

At ten twenty-two last night,

Four small swans, to my delight

And certainly my surprise,

Swam primly before my eyes.

Full sixty seconds they stayed,

As if they were on parade:

Closely ranked in line astern,

With neither a twist or turn.

They looked immaculate there,

And yet, at the end, I swear

The first three winked at me

As the last one changed to three.

THE MALLARD PAIR

2008-04-13T12:19:00.000-07:00

Above the reeds they rode the breeze,
One's veerings by the other matched;
Not touching, though so close, they seemed
By some unseen device attached.

DUCKLINGS

2008-04-13T10:50:00.000-07:00

Beside the river,
Huddled together,
Waiting for feathers,
Sit six little ducks
Missing their mother,
Cursing the weather.

CUCKOO COLOURS

2008-04-13T10:38:00.000-07:00

The cuckoo is a pretty bird,

Or so the folk-song bade us say.

Unthinking trust we lent his word,

As was our habit yesterday.

Must comic sound mean pretty looks?

Do rhymers stop to ponder such?

And do they check their facts in books,

Or let their fancy reign too much?

Whoever by ear alone would claim

To notice spring's harbinger first

Would heighten their measure of fame

If colour they also rehearsed.

Olive and blue are both taboo,

Pretty in pink is well astray,

And yellow's inaccurate, too

- For a cuckoo's in shades of grey!

BRENT GEESE

2008-04-13T10:36:00.000-07:00

Flocked in the harbour,
Backs spattered with hail,
Like knights in armour
They challenge the gale.

RIVALS

2008-04-13T10:33:00.000-07:00

The magpie and the starling,
Two bold, voracious birds,
Will vie for every morseling
Without exchanging words.

BIRDS ALERT

2008-04-13T10:31:00.000-07:00

Whether on branches or down on the ground,
The smaller birds are, the more they look round!

THE BIRD SEAT

2008-04-13T10:20:00.000-07:00

We've shared our garden scene across the years,

My trusty, rustic seat and I;

A view for me - though mostly from indoors -

That's yielded up a catalogue

Approaching forty different kinds of bird.

Most I've observed, but just a few,

Including summer's cuckoo, only heard.

The greater number qualify

As steady regulars, though some are spaced,

Like swallows, by their migrant flights.

And yet a third have but occurred one time.

I wonder then: considering

The seat's far longer watching span than mine,

By how much fuller stands its log

Than that which I've myself, to date, compiled.

I can't reproach a higher score:

Inclemencies of rain and snow and storm

It's borne condone a longer list.

But, that apart, it troubles me to think

Of all the birds I must have missed!

THE BIRD COLONY

2008-04-13T10:17:00.000-07:00

Distant drifts of snowflakes swirling

Soon resolve on nearer viewing

Into wings, a feathered whirling

Over cliffs, the flock renewing.

SHOT DOWN

2008-04-10T03:48:00.000-07:00

I lingered, rapt, beside the wood, alert

To the bird's unceasing munificence.

Just then, I fear, a sudden shot I heard;

And there it lay, a frail inconsequence.

CHILL SOLITUDE

2008-04-07T13:31:00.000-07:00

They stirred from roost at wane of night.

Their shifting shapes made silhouettes

At water's edge; a score or more,

Impatient till the sea limpet sea

Would loose its grasp upon the shore.

At last, release! In dawning's light

The calling curlews rose in flight

And paced the fast-retreating tide,

Revealing silvery salting-flats,

For birds like these a paradise.

They gleaned, in scattered company,

Rich pickings from the mud, unseen.

Outreaching me, their distance fled

The eye and left me, lonely, in

Chill solitude, that vastness by.