Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
POEM STARTER
A write a tripadi poem about birds.
A tripadi is a form of Bengali poetry that consists of multiple three-line stanzas, where the first and second lines of each stanza rhyme.
Writings
The hummingbird trills its electric hum
Whilst the wings on its back expertly thrum
They zip about the world carefree
Red is ever pleasing to their vision
For these are birds of exact precision
What a lovely color to see
They unfurl their fiddlehead tongues
Pilfer sweet nectar from flowers just sprung
To these birds, life is but a dream
An itty bitty nest will do just fine
For eggs no bigger ...
Bogsucker, Labrador twister
More names than a cat has whiskers
Denote our simple timberdoodle bird
Brush snipe, becasse, or mudbat
Folk names toodle ratatat tat
As weird as this sandpiper’s walk absurd
Just search for its gait on TikTok
Its dancing woos more than woodcocks
Never been one for the birdwatching herd
more than a wibbly wobbly joke
My heart’s open for hokumpokes
Odd utterly Timber...
Birds fly above our heads
Birds sleep in our beds
I see birds soaring
Flying above to a place that we hope is near
Leading us here and there and everywhere
Feathers trail behind their bright wings
We follow the birds
To places unheard
And places unseen
The birds represent our hopes and dreams
Our freedoms and hearts and the little things
That help us get up in the morning....
Feathers flared, like kings they glide,
Murderk sneers, but what’s inside?
Heart’s all mush, a thing to hide.
They spot the squirrel, stiff and grey,
“There’s lunch,” Mouthy starts to say,
Till it _twitched_—like life’s replay.
“Big squirrel—hit me. That’s the deal.
I’m roadkill now, what’s the feel?
Murderk, come, let’s make this real.”
Murderk blinks—this _talking_ meat?
Squirrel’s calm, so b...
A primal roar, untouched by core,
In turmoil and chaos, it flourish and savors,
A wave of a storm, cruel and sore.
A splash of pink, then out of sight,
Dense fog obscuring gaze, eternal grays
All else would sink, burgundy light remains.
On tip of a feather, not fur neither leather,
A metal might be, shines more than a key,
Ring made of heather, on white wing it tether.
Upward a sleeve of foreve...
The songs of birds
Contain such beautiful words
It’s a symphony to adore
You can hear them in the park
Solely when it’s not too dark
Because darkness blocks beauty
Why does it only end at night?
Wouldn’t it be just alright
If we could listen to the songs all day?
So if everyone’s hands were green
The world wouldn’t be so mean
To the Singers of Serenity...
Morning singer changes his tune
As the little things begin to croon
And make their beds in yesterdays leaves
That whip and whirl in the Sunday sun
A stone throw from the river run
Where we used to set our boats
To watch them coarse through the blue
Past the eager and waiting pecking crew
With their ancient crimson heads....
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POEM STARTER
Compose a pastoral poem that describes a meadow full of wildflowers.
Pastoral poetry focuses on the human connection with nature, and often idealises simple country living.