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JASMIN HORST E. P. SEILER, click here to update your pages on AuthorsDen.

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A little baby bird in hand, part two

Friday, July 24, 2009
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by JASMIN HORST E. P. SEILER
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If you wondered why no posting, a new baby in my house, and in one hand or the other from morning till night, feeding every 1/2 hour from early morning till sundown, even had to take it to Tim Hortons so it was happy, my friend thought I was nuts, but that's me, right to the tee.


style="width: 172px; height: 146px" class="pic" "robin nestlings day 13" src="" width="400" height="400" />



On the one hand,

Or should I say, on the other,

What the heck, it’s too much bother,

Both hands now can’t use at once,

To do this task,

Why? Well I’m glad you asked,

Typing at the best of times,

It’s not my favourite sport,

Unless some sturm and drang,

To do this would exhort,


Ok, this is what you get,

The keyboard is all wet,

It did its thing,

Pooped and typed a string,..............

With one toe and a wing,

This wee red breasted thing,

Normally in my hands it sits,

One or the other………….Turdus migratorius

If in the right,

With typing I won’t bother,

This Turdus migratorius,

It lets me know who is boss,

Jasmin like, put on wings,

Again she tells me, do these things,

Loud and feisty, with chest in red,

Tells me when to rise, and get to bed,

Then gets me up at sunrise,

With too much noise and cries,

And if not in my hand all day,

In the backyard does it play,

Flying now, from here to there,

Playing catch me, if you dare,

The tail and her now twice the size,

In seven days, I tell no lies,

Healthy is she too to boot,

On worms and hamburger for food,

Some berries here and there,

I often with her share,

The only thing her little feet,

One twisted real neat,

Either surgery or plaster,

Will fix this hurt disaster,

You’d never know though that she’s sore,

Judging by the way she snore,

Nearby, the pillow, where she slept,

From there, into my bed she crept,

I found her laying cross my throat this morn,

Snoring like to beat a storm,

Or was it me?

It doesn’t matter can’t you see,

All beings love to snuggle tight,

When darkness calls the night,

In the daytime cradles in my hand,

For love, most creatures understand,

Not prisoner I’ll make of her,

But let her fly, her freedom share,

And when she then returns to ground,

She knows where I’ll be found.©24/07/2009


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Reviewed by Jon Willey 8/2/2009
now there's a story man and bird alike can adore Jasmin -- tend her well my friend --peace and love -- Jon Michael
Reviewed by Jackie (Micke) Jinks 7/29/2009
Your caring hands are healing to this young, winged red-breast...and all the while she/he brings Jasmin-like joy to your heart. And you took her/him out for breakfast??? What a delight you are, J.H. Await the next chapter of this caring drama :o)
Blessings and Love - Micke
Reviewed by jude forese 7/25/2009
a warm, heart-filled write ... a wonderful experience ...
Reviewed by Jerry Engler 7/25/2009
Turdus Migratorious, huh. That would be right up there with Jasminus Poopus. Glad to hear you are still nesting......Jerry
Reviewed by Mr. Ed 7/25/2009
You took your little Turdus Migratorious to Tim Hortons??!!

(I would have loved to have seen that - you are a very good Mom!)
Reviewed by Georg Mateos 7/25/2009
If you really love her...let her fly away, if she really loves you...she will be back.


Reviewed by Patrick Granfors 7/24/2009
The latest member of the aviary says thanks. Patrick
Reviewed by John Flanagan 7/24/2009
It's obvious you don't give up, it's a relationship now with all its problems and joys. Great update.


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