are there any free bird watching poems, suitable for retirement party?

Answer 1

you can use this one:

a yellow bird
with a yellow bill
landed upon
my window sill
i coaxed him in
with crumbs of bread
and then i smashed
his little head

Answer 2

You might be able to use these two I wrote a few years ago:

As I stood sheltering out of the rain,
I had this strange feeling again and again.
That someone was watching me from somewhere nearby,
No one could I see, there was no reason why.

The dim light the storm caused, it was so hard to see,
But I still felt that someone was staring at me,
When suddenly to my utmost surprise,
I saw nothing else, just those two large round eyes.

From her nest the young blackbird watched me in fear,
Afraid of the stranger standing ever so near,
Never knowing that she, had been frightening me,
So we parted at once, and I found a new tree.


---------------------

Jack.


Jack was my best friend when I was a lad,
The most wonderful pal that a boy ever had.
He never could speak, but he knew what I said,
He believed every word and was easily lead.

I first met young Jack, when he was quite small,
He was black, short-legged and not very tall,
His home it was dirty and dark as the night,
The first time I saw him, I really took fright.

He made a strange sound, when I gave him some bread,
It caused him to choke, and I thought he was dead,
But he quickly recovered and became quite strong,
So I carried him home, not knowing ‘twas wrong.

He slept in our shed, not allowed in our home,
Through the fields we would wander and mountains we’d roam,
‘Till the day I was told, ‘twas against the law,
To steal from a nest, a fledgling Jackdaw.

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Answer 3

Not sure how "free" it is but here's one:

Ode To Bird Watching
~

Now
Let's look for birds!
The tall iron branches
in the forest,
The dense
fertility on the ground.
The world
is wet.
A dewdrop or raindrop
shines,
a diminutive star
among the leaves.
The morning time
mother earth
is cool.
The air
is like a river
which shakes
the silence.
It smells of rosemary,
of space
and roots.
Overhead,
a crazy song.
It's a bird.
How
out of its throat
smaller than a finger
can there fall the waters
of its song?
Luminous ease!
Invisible
power
torrent
of music
in the leaves.
Sacred conversations!
Clean and fresh washed
is this
day resounding
like a green dulcimer.
I bury
my shoes
in the mud,
jump over rivulets.
A thorn
bites me and a gust
of air like a crystal
wave
splits up inside my chest.
Where
are the birds?
Maybe it was
that
rustling in the foliage
or that fleeting pellet
of brown velvet
or that displaced
perfume? That
leaf that let loose cinnamon smell
- was that a bird? That dust
from an irritated magnolia
or that fruit
which fell with a thump -
was that a flight?
Oh, invisible little
critters
birds of the devil
with their ringing
with their useless feathers.
I only want
to caress them,
to see them resplendent.
I don't want
to see under glass
the embalmed lightning.
I want to see them living.
I want to touch their gloves
of real hide,
which they never forget in
the branches
and to converse with
them
sitting on my shoulders
although they may leave
me like certain statues
undeservedly whitewashed.
Impossible.
You can't touch them.
You can hear them
like a heavenly
rustle or movement.
They converse
with precision.
They repeat
their observations.
They brag
of how much they do.
They comment
on everything that exists.
They learn
certain sciences
like hydrography.
and by a sure science
they know
where there are harvests
of grain.



- Pablo Neruda

- Translated by Jodey Bateman

Answer 4

I think "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe would be nice. Find it on Internet