Bird Brains
Listen to the poem ...
“The beak makes the bird!” squawked a toucan,
“And mine is exceedingly bright.
Why, it’s so enormous and handsome
It’s a wonder that I can take flight!”
“Such nonsense!” retorted a parrot.
“It’s all in the feathers, you see!
Our beauty is shown in their colours -
A point which I’m sure you’d agree.”
“Quite true!” honked a nearby flamingo.
“And clearly the right way to think
But too many colours are gaudy,
And a beautiful bird is just pink.”
“Utter rubbish!” spluttered a peacock.
“I know how you envy my tail,
It glistens and glimmers and shimmers
And makes your poor feathers look pale.”
But then, from the clear sky above them,
A little brown bird proved them wrong
He said not a word, but they listened
To the skylark’s most beautiful song.
“And mine is exceedingly bright.
Why, it’s so enormous and handsome
It’s a wonder that I can take flight!”
“Such nonsense!” retorted a parrot.
“It’s all in the feathers, you see!
Our beauty is shown in their colours -
A point which I’m sure you’d agree.”
“Quite true!” honked a nearby flamingo.
“And clearly the right way to think
But too many colours are gaudy,
And a beautiful bird is just pink.”
“Utter rubbish!” spluttered a peacock.
“I know how you envy my tail,
It glistens and glimmers and shimmers
And makes your poor feathers look pale.”
But then, from the clear sky above them,
A little brown bird proved them wrong
He said not a word, but they listened
To the skylark’s most beautiful song.
This poem is copyright (©) J H Rice 2024
About the Writer
J H Rice
J H Rice writes poems. Sometimes he does this on purpose but a lot of the time poetry just seems happen to him. He used to worry about this but, since meeting lots of other poets, he has realised that it's perfectly normal. A lot of poems happen to him when he's walking his dog, Rosie.
