A Social Phobic's Interpretation & Decoration of Poetical Ideas, Messages, Information and Resources.

Posts tagged ‘birds’


Little log cabin

The afternoon sun,

slightly smoked,

sneaking into the mysterious cabin,

floating dust half awakened,

listening to the discourse,

of the warm genial wind,

and the sound of clarinet,

green shadows,

heavy outside the window,

stacked layers,


turning into clouds,

joyous birds,

waving curtains,

inviting the wind,

broken light swimming,

people walking,

past the window,

a fine limpid period,

walking and flowing,

amidst the foliage,

a quiet poem,

poured onto the gloomy wall.


Old castle

The road is far,

can’t find any colorful birds,


the zone of alienation,

can’t touch the warmth of the rock,

mountains are silent,

a prayer in daylight,

grass is green,

breathing is good,

elves and wizards,


singing archaic song,


the underworld’s paradise,

clasping the hand of the sun,


into sleep,

darkness is,

brewing a trap,

only the beating flame is,

smiling at me.


Beautiful Morning

The story of time,

one dark night is dead,

another day resurrected,

sparrows, thrushes, starlings,

and pigeons,

they start to sing,


Summertime of May

It’s May,
what a fragrant season,
a love nest that accomodates many many dreams,
the pond of lovesickness,
in the city of May,
vacant feathers shining bright,
in the eyes,
everything beautiful,
implanted into the scenery,
sitting in a painting,
with a beautiful mind,
sweet as honey ,
beautiful watered branches of May,
circular dream stretching its tantacles,
for the love of all things,
the summer explores,
golden fireflies traveling,
white butterflies flying,
out of the dream,
an enchanted moment in the cocoon,
a burst of heavy rain from heaven,
like rolling stones,
tied with good news,
birds sleeping soundly in the grass,
they start flapping their wings,
to shake off dewdrops on thier feathers,
they want to fly,
on the branches of May,

the breeding of ,

many beautiful fantasies,

the sound of bird,

crashes the sky,

creeps into dreams,

hanging the most beautiful fantasy,

onto the branches of May,

all souls,


and desires,

like the seeds lost,

from the mouths of birds,


and sprouting,

in May.

Two birds

he puts his troubles aside,
for love,5f6bda160924ab18c46ea28235fae6cd7b890b13.jpg
and comes to fly together,
actually, he knows not melancholy,
as long as they can be together,
and so it is,
the sunshine of the two birds,
no longer the half moon in the dark,
two birds begin to rove,
no aims,
hearing the insects calling,
when meeting with stromy sleet,
they learned to hug each other,
huddle for warmth,
and comfort each other,
they share everything,
this love won’t be laid to rest,
they fly,
over an open field,
over the forests,
over the mountain ridge,
secretly fly round the threshing floor in the fall,
bypass the ocean,
cross the river,
they roam by a babbling brook,
amidst the branches in the morning,
there are two virds singing,
beating thier unwearied wings,
the reflection in the water,
is the two of them,
their footprints,
light and deep.
they are free,
but unusual,
every minute every second,
a time to love,
all the way.
It doesn’t matter,
there is no fragrance of flowers,
or in a birch forest looking up at the clouds drifting above,
in a time when nobody is around,
in times of affright,
it’s the time they play and sport,
forgetting the way home.


Fly away,
into the faraway place,
it is you,
migratory birds in the memory,
looking for,
and competing perfection,
more perfect nests,
not the breath of spring,
please don’t,
don’t place the false springtime into the wintry dream,

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