Michael King Apr 26
As I walked over the mountain tops
with glory in my hair.
I saw a bird upon the wing.
It floated in the air.

It hovered near, above my head
not leaving for a while.
Just glared at me, like food for free.
I swear I saw a smile.

I swear this bird, this soaring beast
had me in terrors grips.
It longed to be the end of me
to taste my blood... one sip.

But I was not a weakened soul,
and on these heights I strode.
As surely as the sun was high
and in this bitter cold.

This bird would never get to me
or strike in me a fear
of being eaten dead alive.
Worms crawling in my ear.

Oh bird alight, please fly away.
I'm fearful of your stares.
On this day, I surely know, you'll
linger in my nightmares.
late in the afternoon
a storm hawk
sounded his prophetic tune
within his blood
an inkling of the weather
which would prevail
his clarion call
went o'er the landscape
from a vantage point
high in a gumtree
it reverberated
so liberally
inside the hour
on the hills
and in the steep ravines
gullies rushed
in fast moving streams
he knew the weather drill
he knew it well
when skies would
spill a raining
his predictive powers
sensed moisture
being about
hence his calling
in an innate vein
sunprincess Feb 17
Hello Mr. Eagle way up there in the sky
Oh, Hi Mr. Hawk, I love to see you fly,
and yes,  I love to see you glide
Way up high in the sky

Just wondering do you feel adrenaline,
when your wings catch the wind,
and how much energy do you spend
flying to the river's end
Sage Jan 29
The color of shrounding
color of darkness
the horse of famine
bringing with it a hunger for something brighter

the great barrier against light
Black swoops in like a hawk,
taking light in its talons
and eliciting night behind it's wings

Black is the sound of thunder rumbling closer
Black is the touch of unrelenting deception
Black is a color
of an innate perception
the squawking hawk's morning cry
he felt rain within his veins
arriving by night
Robert Ronnow Jul 2017
If you see a hawk
on a bough at field's edge
beyond the corner you should have turned
maybe it's a sign to go on.

Such as during an improvisation on
Flamingo or I've Got You Under My Skin
you play in the wrong key or mode completely
maybe it's a sign to go on, in the wrong key.

Or when my sons cry not wanting
to be alone, I'm upstairs writing
or just enjoying trees in every direction
it too may be a sign to go on alone.
Some people don't always know what they're doing
Including me in the congregation
But some know exactly what they're doing
Down with the tunnel snakes
Looking to shake
The acidic bottle
To see how chaotic the peace becomes
I see you, watching how you swindle the naive
You're brilliant, aren't you?
Brilliantly distorted
Eyes like a Hawk
That rarely gawks
At what is in front of me
I see it everywhere
From the mountains of Nepal to the cold, harsh cities of Delaware
People look forward to impair
The full circles, the healthy plant in the desert
Prospering like it should
Don't make me laugh with your intent
You'll make enough dents
But everything will hold like a steel tent
I can jump over any fence
And penetrate any defense
You're able to implement
Don't lower your guard
Regardless of being a race car driver or a Bard
I know sinister yards
and I'm growing in disguise
You won't see it
Until you find yourself in a completed cat and mouse game
How is your game working out now?
Stanley Wilkin Jun 2016
The sunrise burns the sky
A carefully coloured explosion
Blooded light flooding the low Kent fields that lie
Before Maidstone, excreting soundless motion:
Yellow carnation shards sway
With this violent advent of day.

In Hucking Estate diaphanous bluebells nestle
Beneath the groping canopy
Of Ash. Oak; the encroaching stinging nettle
Shields the frequent woodland scree
Covering with a verdant flush
Brooks that through the stones invisibly rush.

Within the hour, the Gorgon-headed sun
Sweeps aside the cloud-
The red into blue and orange has run
And in Lower Fullingpits Wood the increasingly  loud
Shuffling of badger attacking vole, fox strangling rabbit,
All compounded into daily habit.

The Kent Downs rise and fall
Like resurrected earth-bound music from a time
When hill, wood and pool
Emerged from unfettered chalk and lime.
Before the Cantii hunted in ancient Wents Wood,
For deer and boar, spurred not by hunger but for the love of blood.

Above the sparrow-hawk attacks the sparrows
Claw enmeshed in feather,
Beak unravelling neck. The unalterable sorrows
Of nature and weather.
Cruelty never ceases, but just gets more efficient-
Kindness remains deficient.
PJ Poesy Apr 2016
Show in contented rest
bringing ghosts
company wished greenly
how did you know?

Bleeding on too long
they had to be cut down
from hooks and ropes
in order of feeding.

Liars causing problems
complicated sacrament
with slickness
under blackberry briars.

Safe from hawks
stay in Juicyland
where it's prickly
free from rape.

This song triples guessed
foxy playing hard
around leafy bush
only snake does not miss.

Dance my badger spirit
agile amongst complexity
ward off and wander.
Kangaroo mouse prance.

Survival in stickers
only seasonal escape.
Where to hide from
next your sly rival?
I once relocated a happy kangaroo mouse from my home to a blackberry patch. There I felt he'd be safe for sometime, but there would be hard lessons. I still wonder how he faired at times?
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