Whip-Poor-Will Poem by Walterrean Salley
Whip-Poor-Will
Its name derives,
I have found,
From its signature sound.
There's something about
The whip-poor-will.
That little bird has skill!
People listen
For its call
Watching, waiting—overall.
And in the stillness of the dark,
Comes its familiar song—
Melodious and strong.
Thus, nocturnal,
It roams at night.
At times, spontaneous in flight.
Little. Brown,
With white spots—
Never is it seen a lot.
The whip-poor-will!
Men, women, children—all—
Fondly savor its sweet call.
Such memories,
Known to soothe,
Oft' remind them of their youth.
So many tales
Of the whip-poor-will,
Yet, folk seem to love it still.
Though time passes,
Yet, grows the thrill
Of our friend, the whip-poor-will.
When commenting on my poem, 'The Nightingale's Song' (Please see) , Joseph asked that I would '… throw in the Whip-O-Will.' Therefore, I was inspired to write this piece. Thanks for the inspiration Joseph.
Even on the stillest and quiet day or night a bird's song seems to find its way, whether shrill or ambient the cities throbbing supplanting pace cannot deter its verve. Lovely write. Thank you for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 8:16:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
This is the first time I am hearing of such a bird. The sweet strains of the feathered folk are so enamouring that they make the country side and the woodlands particularly endearing! A lovely poem on a tiny bird! !