These bird-themed verses encompass the entire spectrum of avian poetry.
From pieces about Robins and Cardinals, to works centered around their dawn serenades, there’s a poem for every bird lover to relish, seeing the unique perspectives of each writer.
Every single poem is the original creation of the credited author, and your thoughts and feedback are heartily welcomed. Happy reading!
Robin, oh Robin, in your coat of red,
A burst of color when skies are lead.
Sing your song in the morning’s hush,
Greet the dawn with your melodic rush.
Feathers like embers against the snow,
A fiery beacon with a gentle glow.
Tiny heart beating with joyous song,
In the quiet woods, where you belong.
In the frosty morning or springtime dew,
Your joyful presence always rings true.
Through the silent whisper of the winter white,
Your song carries the promise of sunlight.
Your voice, a melody, that breaks the night,
Telling tales of the coming daylight.
Robin, oh Robin, in your coat of red,
You bring to life the world that’s dead.
Nestled in your nest, you sing a lullaby,
Underneath the wide, cerulean sky.
A serenade for the sun to wake,
Your music the day does gently make.
Robin, oh Robin, your song so sweet,
A harmonious rhythm, that none can beat.
In you, we see nature’s simple grace,
A tiny heartbeat in its vast embrace.
Noisy Old Crow – Poem
Noisy old crow on the old oak tree,
Feathers ruffled and black as coal,
Caws break the dawn, oh so boldly,
A primal music that stirs the soul.
Bathed in the morning’s gentle glow,
Sharing tales of the night that fled,
Wings are strong, eyes full of mystery,
Guarding secrets that are unsaid.
Flights of fancy in the azure sky,
A silhouette against the midday sun,
The wind whispers your cryptic sigh,
Your story, crow, is never done.
Noisy old crow in the crimson dusk,
Harbinger of what’s to come,
Your silhouette on the twilight’s husk,
Heralds night when day is done.
You speak in a language old as time,
Yet misunderstood by most,
Your enigmatic, rhythmic rhyme,
Seems more an echo, than a boast.
Through the moonlit night, in silent watch,
Guardian of the secrets in the dark,
Under the veil of the starry swatch,
In your perch, you leave your mark.
Noisy old crow, oh so wise,
With knowledge hidden in those eyes,
Keeper of truths, teller of lies,
In your caw, a universe lies.
Noisy old crow, friend so old,
Your tales, though grim, are precious gold,
In your feathers, stories are scrolled,
Noisy old crow, your legacy is told.
A Little Glimpse of God
In the hush of dawn, before the world awakes,
When the morning sun the darkness breaks,
A melody echoes, pure and clear,
A little glimpse of God is near.
In the song of the lark, so high above,
In the gentle coo of the mourning dove,
In the robin’s trill, in the crow’s caw loud,
God’s whispers are carried on wings unbound.
Each feather etched with divine design,
In each bird’s song, His love does shine.
In the eagle’s soar, in the sparrow’s flight,
A glimpse of God, cloaked in sunlight.
From the tiny hummingbird, swift and bright,
To the owl, silent guardian of the night,
Each bird’s call, each fluttering wing,
Is a hymn to God, that they sing.
When the nightingale serenades the moon,
Or the peacock struts in full bloom,
In the parrot’s colors, bold and odd,
Each is a beautiful glimpse of God.
In the nests they build, high in the trees,
In the dance of shadows in the autumn breeze,
In their journey across the heavens broad,
Birds show us a path to God.
So listen close, in the quiet of dawn,
To the avian chorus, as a new day is born.
For in their song, simple and free,
A little glimpse of God, you’ll surely see.
Birds of the sky, in their grand ballet,
Silhouettes painted on the canvas of day,
With wings that cut through the cerulean expanse,
In the heaven’s vastness, they freely dance.
Soaring, gliding, they claim their stage,
In the open skies, they engage,
Feathers kissed by the morning sun,
On thermal currents, their dance is spun.
High above the land and sea,
In flight, they express their liberty,
An eagle’s dive, a sparrow’s rise,
Etching stories in the endless skies.
Harbingers of dawn, their song so sweet,
As sunlight and morning air meet,
In the silence, their melodies burst,
Their joyous notes quenching our thirst.
Each swoop, each glide, each lofty climb,
Sings an ode to the sublime,
In their flight, an art so pure,
An elixir to soothe, to cure.
Feathers kissed by the moon’s soft glow,
Underneath the stars, they continue their show,
Soaring in dreams, through the night’s hold,
Their stories in the starlight told.
Soaring high, in endless swirls,
Above the chaos of worldly twirls,
Their dance speaks of freedom earned,
Of lessons learned, and journeys turned.
Watch them soar, watch them fly,
In the boundless, azure sky,
See the poetry in their flight,
Birds of the sky, oh what a sight!
Robin Redbreast Poem
Robin Redbreast, heart ablaze,
Singing sweetly in morning’s haze,
A herald of dawn, of day’s first light,
Your cheery song takes the night’s quiet.
In the winter’s chill, in the frosty morn,
Your vibrant hue, like a beacon, worn,
Against the white, you stand so bold,
Your story in the silence, told.
Robin Redbreast, in your coat so fine,
In the bare branches, you brightly shine,
Your melody weaves through the icy air,
A song of resilience, beyond compare.
Through springtime showers, under the sun’s warm gaze,
In the summer’s glory, in autumn’s blaze,
You sing your song, both loud and clear,
A hymn of hope, for all to hear.
In your tiny heart, a courage so grand,
Against winter’s harshness, you bravely stand,
Your voice rings out, in the quiet land,
A symphony of life, beautifully planned.
Robin Redbreast, bird so small,
Yet, your spirit outshines us all,
In your song, in your flight,
You bring to the world, a radiant light.
So sing, Robin Redbreast, let your voice be heard,
You are a marvel, a wonderous bird,
In your melody, in your fiery breast,
Lies a testament of nature, at its best.
To Fly Away
To fly away, where the sky meets the sea,
Unbound, unshackled, utterly free.
To dance with the wind, to embrace the sun,
To soar above the world, a day’s work done.
To fly away, where the stars brightly glow,
Chasing the moon’s soft, silvery show.
In the vastness of the night, where dreams take flight,
A silent ballet, bathed in moonlight.
To fly away, through the morning haze,
Feeling the warmth of the first sun rays.
Bathing in dawn’s golden light, oh what a sight,
A spectacle of nature, pure and bright.
To fly away, with the birds on high,
Beneath the canvas of the endless sky.
With wings spread wide, in the wind’s sweet sigh,
To become one with the cloud’s soft cry.
To fly away, where the earth looks small,
Where the echoes of silence in the heart do fall.
With only the horizon as the guiding mark,
Into the yonder, vast and stark.
To fly away, oh what a dream,
To drift with the wind, to follow the stream,
For to have wings, to be truly free,
Is to embrace the world, in all its glee.
So, dream to fly, away and beyond,
In the beauty of the sky, let your heart respond.
For in each of us, a desire lay,
A deep yearning, to simply… fly away.
For All Us Birds
For all us birds, that dance on the breeze,
Whose songs fill the air, put hearts at ease,
We sing and soar, in skies so broad,
Each flight, each note, a gift from God.
For all us birds, of feathers bright,
Who greet the dawn, bid farewell to night,
In every hue, in every song,
In this world, we belong.
From the robin’s red, to the raven’s black,
From the skyward journey, to the homeward track,
In our tiny hearts, a love for the sky,
A yearning to spread our wings, and fly.
For all us birds, who build a nest,
Who find in the trees, a place to rest,
We weave our homes, with love and care,
In nature’s embrace, we share.
From the eagle’s crag, to the sparrow’s hedge,
From the mountain peak, to the water’s edge,
We claim this world, wild and free,
In its beauty, we find our glee.
For all us birds, under the sun and stars,
We wear our freedom, like healing scars,
In the open skies, we find our worth,
For we are the music of the Earth.
So listen close, hear our song,
Feel the rhythm, strong and long,
For all us birds, in our flight and mirth,
We are poetry, on the canvas of Earth.
Sunning – Bird Poetry
Bathing in the radiant glow of the sun,
A joyous ritual, when day is begun,
Feathers spread wide, soaking up the light,
A bird in its glory, a captivating sight.
The morning dew glistens, the world is still,
As the sun climbs higher, over the hill,
Each ray captured in the plumage so bright,
A living prism, in the golden light.
The warmth seeping into each delicate quill,
Time seems to stop, the world goes still,
The sunning bird, in quiet delight,
Basks in the day, after the night.
The starling’s shimmer, the sparrow’s grace,
Each find a perch, their sunning place,
Under the sky, so vast and blue,
A scene painted in golden hue.
The radiant peacock, the humble dove,
All find solace under the sky above,
In the sun’s soft touch, there’s a secret shared,
A moment of peace, for those who dared.
As the sun dances on the azure stage,
Each bird plays its part, no matter the age,
Feathers aglow, eyes gently closed,
In the sun’s embrace, a poem composed.
So let the birds sun, in radiant array,
In this simple act, they embrace the day,
And in their joy, under the sun’s soft kiss,
We find a moment of pure bliss.
Words of the birds, sung at dawn,
In each note, a new day is born.
Whispers in the wind, stories unfurl,
In their language, secrets of the world.
Words of the eagle, bold and strong,
Speak of journeys, rugged and long,
Tales of the mountains, the azure height,
Etched in the shadow of soaring flight.
Words of the nightingale, under the moon’s glow,
Sing a lullaby, soft and slow.
In its melody, dreams are spun,
A silver thread in the night, softly run.
Words of the raven, dark and deep,
Speak of secrets the shadows keep,
In its call, echoes the ancient lore,
Of the mysteries held in the crow’s caw.
Words of the robin, bright and clear,
Sing of hope, drawing near.
In its trill, the warmth of the sun,
A joyous anthem, beautifully sung.
Words of the hummingbird, quick and light,
Tell of the nectar’s sweet delight,
In its hum, a rhythm is found,
A heartbeat’s pulse in sound.
Bird words, spoken in flutter and song,
A language old, yet forever young,
In their voices, in the wind sown,
Are the verses of the world, beautifully crooned.
Black Sky! Roosting Bird Poem
Under the black sky, as the day departs,
A roosting bird, his evening starts.
Feathers ruffled, against the cold night,
In the quiet, he waits for the moon’s light.
Silhouetted against the starry array,
In the gentle arms of the tree, he’ll stay.
Among the leaves, his lullaby heard,
The peaceful slumber of a roosting bird.
His song of the day now softly ends,
As night’s curtain, the sky descends.
His tiny heart beats a rhythm slow,
As he nestles in, the night’s shadow to know.
The world around him, in quiet, wrapped,
While in his perch, the bird is safely trapped.
In the hush, a serenade to the night,
Under the black sky, a tranquil sight.
The moon above, a silver glow,
Casting shadows, on the world below.
A roosting bird, in the night unfurled,
Finds peace in this silent world.
As the stars twinkle, in the black sky,
The roosting bird, with a sleepy sigh,
Closes his eyes, under the night’s soft spell,
In the heart of the darkness, all is well.
Black sky above, the world so still,
The roosting bird, has his fill.
In the quiet night, under the moon’s gentle curve,
The roosting bird, finds the rest he deserves.
Parrots – My Poem
Parrots of color, bold and bright,
Feathers gleaming in the sunlight,
Emerald green, sapphire blue, ruby red,
A vivid painting, nature’s thread.
Voices echoing, tales they tell,
In every squawk, in every yell,
A mimic’s skill, a chatterer’s art,
Each sound, a piece of their heart.
In the jungle’s heart, or skies so high,
Their vibrant hues catch the eye,
A flash of color, a dazzling sight,
Against the sky, they take flight.
In playful antics, they engage,
In nature’s play, they take the stage,
Curious eyes, filled with mirth,
Adding laughter to our Earth.
Beneath the sun, they bask in glow,
In the cool breeze, they sway to and fro,
Living portraits, in the trees,
Dancing gently, with the breeze.
Parrots, in their feathered splendor,
To the sky, their praises render,
In their flight, their song, their hue,
A beautiful poem, forever new.
So, sing, parrots, in your joyful play,
Add color to each passing day,
For in your voices, in your flight,
You bring to the world, a delightful light.
The Majesty of the Eagle: A Song of the Skies
High above the valleys and the mountains crest,
There dwells a winged monarch, reigning over all the rest.
A silhouette against the sun, a mighty eagle takes its flight,
The sky is his kingdom, the clouds his rightful right.
In his eyes resides a fire, a spark of ancient might,
A cosmic dance of elements, a fusion of power and light.
He rides upon the winds, a skyward emperor divine,
In each arc and swoop, an essence truly sublime.
His mighty wings are spread wide, caressing the air’s sweet kiss,
His feathers finely etched by nature’s perfect bliss.
Every daybreak is his birth, every dusk his solemn reign,
Through storms and quiet starlight, in joy and piercing pain.
In his flight, there’s a melody, a song as old as time,
A celestial choir singing, a symphony so divine.
His heart beats to the rhythm of the Earth’s gentle hum,
He is a poem painted by the skies, a sonnet softly strummed.
The Grace of the Swan: Reflections on Still Waters
In gardens of serenity, by calm and silent ponds,
A creature graces silently, of beauty and of bonds.
A swan of purest white, a dream weaved into being,
In her graceful glide, there’s a poem worth seeing.
She spreads her wings like satin, in the golden morning light,
Her reflection in the water, a twin in eternal flight.
She dances with her image, a ballet soft and kind,
A testament to nature’s art, a masterpiece designed.
Her silence is a sonnet, her movement a verse,
In her purity and elegance, no sorrow can immerse.
Her mate for life she chooses, a testament to love’s stay,
Together they paint a picture of loyalty in ballet.
From dawn till dusk she glides, an angel without a care,
Whispering a lullaby to the cool and quiet air.
A swan in her magnificence, in silence and in sound,
A ballad of serene peace, in her elegance, we’re found.
The Nightingale’s Song: A Lullaby for the Moon
When night descends and the world stands still,
Emerges a voice that can bend any will.
A nightingale sings, its notes weaving through night,
A melody so sweet, every star takes flight.
Each song a secret, each whisper a tale,
An enchanting saga that rides on the gale.
The moon lends an ear, the wind holds its breath,
As the nightingale sings of love, life, and death.
In its voice is a river, a stream of pure feeling,
A cascade of emotions, heartache and healing.
The nightingale’s song, a sonnet of the soul,
An eternal symphony that makes us whole.
It sings for the lovers, it sings for the lone,
It sings for the joyous, and for those who have known.
The song of the nightingale, a soothing balm,
A lullaby for the moon, a world in its palm.
The Sparrow’s Dance: A Symphony of the Streets
In the hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps,
A small creature dances, a rhythm that it keeps.
A sparrow, brown and unassuming, a common sight to see,
Yet in its simple presence, a story sets free.
On window sills and power lines, it perches with a song,
A melody of survival, a rhythm strong.
With swift and nimble movements, it weaves through the air,
A dance among the concrete, a sonnet of care.
It sings of humble victories, of quiet joys and strife,
Of the delicate balance woven into life.
The sparrow’s song, a narrative unending,
A chorus of existence, constantly transcending.
Each wingbeat is a verse, each chirp a word,
In the sparrow’s simple melody, a profound story is heard.
A tale of humble resilience, of life’s beautiful dance,
The sparrow sings its symphony, entrancing in its trance.
The Wisdom of the Owl: Secrets of the Shadows
In the heart of the forest, where secrets lie deep,
A wise old owl begins to weep.
Its hoots echo through the trees, a tale to unwind,
A song of the shadows, a riddle intertwined.
Its eyes, two glowing orbs, hold wisdom untold,
Its wings wrapped around secrets, countless and bold.
The night is its kingdom, the moon its guiding light,
It navigates through darkness with keen and quiet sight.
It sings of mysteries, of things unseen,
Of the magical world, hidden in the green.
The owl, a sage of the shadows, a seer of the night,
Its hoots are whispers of knowledge, its flight a quiet delight.
In the silence of the forest, beneath the cloak of the night,
The owl shares its wisdom, an eternal flight.
Its song is a reminder, a truth we must know,
In the heart of the shadows, wisdom can grow.
The Flight of the Hummingbird: A Dance of Vibrancy
In the realm of blossoming flowers, a symphony begins,
A dance of vibrancy, a tale that spins.
A hummingbird flutters, a blur of beating wings,
In its rapid movement, a melody that sings.
It dips and darts, a ballet in flight,
A radiant gem in the soft morning light.
Its wings, a blur, beat against time,
A rhythm so rapid, a rhyme so prime.
It sips the nectar, life’s sweetest kiss,
In each swift motion, an echo of bliss.
The hummingbird’s song, a rhapsody of speed,
An ode to existence, a vibrant creed.
Each wingbeat is a whisper, each flutter a note,
In the hummingbird’s dance, a sonnet afloat.
A tale of vibrancy, of life in fast-forward,
The hummingbird sings, its melody recorded.
The Rooster’s Dawn: A Call to Life
When the sky is yet a dream, the stars just beginning to fade,
A call rings through the countryside, a new day to be made.
A rooster, proud and loud, begins his daily song,
A melody of awakening, a rhythm strong.
His crow pierces the silence, a trumpet call to the sun,
An announcement of a new day, a new journey to be begun.
His song is a reveille, a heralding of light,
A farewell to the moon, a greeting to daylight.
He sings of life’s cycle, of the sun’s steady rise,
Of the promise of a new day, of the endless skies.
The rooster’s call, an anthem of the morn,
A symphony of awakening, a new day is born.
Each crow is a promise, each cluck a vow,
In the rooster’s dawn, life takes a bow.
A tale of renewal, of day’s gentle rise,
The rooster sings his song, his melody, the skies.
The Peacock’s Display: A Palette of Pride
In the lush green garden, a spectacle takes place,
A dance of colors, a symphony of grace.
A peacock unfurls its feathers, a grand and glorious sight,
A rainbow come to life, a dance in broad daylight.
Each feather is a verse, each hue a word,
In the peacock’s majestic display, a poem is heard.
It fans out its plumage, a painter’s palette grand,
A testament to nature’s art, a miracle at hand.
It sings of pride and beauty, of life in vivid colors,
Of the simple joy of existence, of the ties that life uncovers.
The peacock’s display, a ballad of the bold,
A kaleidoscope of life, a tale untold.
Each color is a note, each feather a song,
In the peacock’s grand display, we all belong.
A tale of flamboyance, of life’s vibrant ride,
The peacock sings its melody, in its stride.
The Heron’s Stand: A Tale of the Tides
By the banks of the winding river, a figure stands tall,
A sentinel of patience, a watcher of all.
A heron, stoic and silent, in the ebb and flow,
Its song a quiet whisper, a melody slow.
It waits for the perfect moment, a poet of patience,
Its stance a testament to life’s constant cadence.
Its long neck curves gracefully, a sculpture against the sky,
A harmonious blend of earth and water, where land and river lie.
It sings of time and tide, of patience and poise,
Of the silent strength of waiting, of life’s subtle joys.
The heron’s song, a symphony of the still,
A melody of mindfulness, a peaceful thrill.
Each moment is a verse, each wait a rhyme,
In the heron’s quiet song, we find sublime.
A tale of patience, of life’s gentle flow,
The heron sings its song, a melody we come to know.
The Parrot’s Echo: A Symphony of Mimicry
In the dense tropical forest, a voice rings true,
A copy of sounds, a symphony anew.
A parrot, vibrant and vocal, begins its unique song,
A mimic of melodies, a rhythm strong.
Its voice is a mirror, reflecting sounds it hears,
From human words to animal calls, it reproduces with cheers.
Its plumage, a riot of colors, brightens the verdant green,
A living, breathing rainbow, a spectacle to be seen.
It sings of mimicry, of life’s echoed words,
Of the symphony of sounds, of the melodies it’s heard.
The parrot’s song, a chorus of the familiar,
A testament to memory, a vocalist singular.
Each echo is a verse, each mimicry a note,
In the parrot’s song, countless voices float.
A tale of mimicry, of life’s echoed sound,
The parrot sings its symphony, its melody profound.
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Piyush Yadav has spent the past 25 years working as a physicist in the local community. He is a physicist passionate about making science more accessible to our readers. He holds a BSc in Natural Sciences and Post Graduate Diploma in Environmental Science. You can read more about him on his bio page.