Wounded wings of a bird of prey
Perched atop its nesting place
Flightless fear of the mighty proud
Does not betray its fearsome face.

Savage shrieks sustain from gritty beak
Lest the lowly prey start to suspect
The terror hidden by beady stare
Knows the wingless cannot life protect.

High up on tree top, talons grip tight
But to beseech is not to be a beast
The power owned by the bird of prey
Is to hover aloft its menial feast.

But treebound talons cannot the brute sustain
So tucking pride away it pleads for aid
The asymptotes connect but all too late
Unheard echoes of its last calls fade.

Glassy eyed, this mighty bird it falls
From once its coveted place of rest
That helpless wingless bird of prey
Lies now amidst common prey and pest.

Wandering words, evasive prose
Removed from my clutching mind
Incredulous laugh, they dodge and hide
Tiptoeing through my daily grind
Enters but briefly an image so clear
Rippling through my hungry thoughts
'twixt eager fingers awaits my pen
Shamelessly nebulous, I follow the dots

Bumbling through, I falter and fall
Lying face down in a pool of nouns
Organising verse to paint image ablur
Clumsily in finished verse I drown
Kindling gone, die these embers of rhyme...
...for prose to revisit, I await my time.

Stimulate and duplicate
Your potential to potentiate
Replicate your experiment
To educate, not adjudicate.

Be your master, emulate
Your idol, don't eliminate
Your need to feel, to resonate
To meditate, reverberate.

Don't incriminate, nor implicate
Make your mark, just radiate
Make them watch, eradicate
Terminate any doubt they state
That your life is one to celebrate.