"eyrie" poems
Soaring past the cloudy moon
The Eagle dives beneath the spume
To wrest away the wary mouse,
Ere dawn, to yonder eyrie-house.
And far beneath the cliffs aglow
Men go about their rigmarole.
But an upward gaze affordeth hence,
A fleeting glimpse of elegance.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 7:50 AM UTC
It's raining tonight
Smearing the light down the window
as though the paint hasn't dried on the night
It's raining...
Is it raining where you are?
I can feel the rain wet upon my face...
Many miles apart
You are in your eyrie alone and asleep,
I am imagining you there, me there, us together, tonight
It's raining...
Is it raining where you are?
I am hearing the rain, in my heart
The moon, the same moon
Stares down at me, and watches over you
I take comfort from the silver moonlight falling on us both
It's raining...
Is it raining where you are?
I'm seeing the rain illuminated by the moon, sparkling underfoot
Lonely, I'm lonely
Sitting here, awake, alone... longing.
I am imagining me there, you here, us together always
It's raining...
Is it raining where you are?
I love the smell of rain in the grass at night
Can I take the step toward you,
Out into the night?
Can I take the step to another life
That may mend or break my heart?
Can I take you from your life, make you step lightly into mine?
Can I live without you still?
It's raining...
Is it raining where you are?
I can taste the rain, salt upon my tongue....
May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 7:37 AM UTC
When I was dead, my spirit turned
To seek the much-frequented house
I passed the door, and saw my friends
Feasting beneath green orange-boughs;
From hand to hand they pushed the wine,
They ****** the pulp of plum and peach;
They sang, they jested, and they laughed,
For each was loved of each.
I listened to their honest chat:
Said one: "To-morrow we shall be
Plod plod along the featureless sands,
And coasting miles and miles of sea."
Said one: "Before the turn of tide
We will achieve the eyrie-seat."
Said one: "To-morrow shall be like
To-day, but much more sweet."
"To-morrow," said they, strong with hope,
And dwelt upon the pleasant way:
"To-morrow," cried they, one and all,
While no one spoke of yesterday.
Their life stood full at blessed noon;
I, only I, had passed away:
"To-morrow and to-day," they cried;
I was of yesterday.
I shivered comfortless, but cast
No chill across the table-cloth;
I, all-forgotten, shivered, sad
To stay, and yet to part how loth:
I passed from the familiar room,
I who from love had passed away,
Like the remembrance of a guest
That tarrieth but a day.
2.1k
On the zero night
It doesn’t matter if someone loves you
Or if you have something between you and the emptiness
Broken trailers with incoherent messages sprayed
“Kitten ***** “Idelibo frant”, messabi todar”
But still the silence descends
The Buddha is confused and lost
Frightened men with their heavy guns
Counting the bullets
Will there be enough?
Sliding hands over ****** knives
We have our pizza, our beer
The screaming is muted for tonight
Please tell me, ghost of the future
Can our superficial images of beauty
Cover our despair?
Still the digital display is counting
The numbers, though meaningless have changed.
If we turned off the lights of Las Vegas
Would we still have a chance to breathe?
What eyrie darkness.
The drones are clustered above the targets
But there is uncertainty
Still the moon shines
And the silence builds
Gibbens 2013-08-21
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 2:02 AM UTC
They tell me on the morrow I must leave
This winter eyrie for a southern flight
And truth to tell I tremble with delight
At thought of such unheralded reprieve.
E’er have I known December in a weave
Of blanched crystal, when, thrice one short night
Packed full with magic, and O blissful sight!
N’er May so warmly doth for April grieve.
To in a breath’s space wish the winter through
And lo, to see it fading! Where, oh, where
Is caract could endow this princely boon?
Yet I have found it and shall shortly view
The lush high grasses, shortly see in air
Gay birds and hear the bees make heavy droon.
1.4k
They tell me on the morrow I must leave
This winter eyrie for a southern flight
And truth to tell I tremble with delight
At thought of such unheralded reprieve.
E’er have I known December in a weave
Of blanched crystal, when, thrice one short night
Packed full with magic, and O blissful sight!
N’er May so warmly doth for April grieve.
To in a breath’s space wish the winter through
And lo, to see it fading! Where, oh, where
Is caract could endow this princely boon?
Yet I have found it and shall shortly view
The lush high grasses, shortly see in air
Gay birds and hear the bees make heavy droon.
1.2k
One day I will give my full attention
to the twilight
I will discover exactly when it begins
and attend to its each second’s state
they’ll be no single degree of change
I’ll miss
Impossible, I know
This afternoon I saw it
far-distant
travelling south east
a soft gloom
a far-away gloaming
I thought I’d stand at my third floor eyrie
and watch it advance
with all the concentration
I could muster.
I couldn’t – muster the concentration
such was its imperceptibly changing light
triggering memory’s way with things
I was compassed about with thoughts
of her tenderness
with her gentle voice just sounding
as the dusk deepened
she bade me share love’s deepest kiss
I know how much this means to you she said
I did know then
and as twilight falls into night
I do know now I do
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
Sharp eyes and sharper beak,
Senses keen and predatory,
Talons waiting to rend and tear;
Yet, still a thing of beauty,
Of wisdom and of calm,
Now soaring through the clouds
To the ethereal eyrie.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
See the graceful sweep of the Eagles wings
As he floats on a cushion of air
On a spiralling staircase he slowly descends
And the wind seems to say a prayer
He looks all around, taking everything in
For he is not in a hurry
He'll catch his prey at the end of the day
No matter how fast they scurry
At the moment he's content just to soar
He knows he's the king of the sky
But even kings have young ones to feed
In the distance he hears them cry
At last he swoops, he seldom fails
For the young ones depend on him
If he did not bring some morsels to eat
Their future would be quite grim
He quickly returns to his eyrie
To his lofty perch in the sky
All is at peace with the world again
And the wind seems to whisper a sigh.
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 1:26 PM UTC
What do you mean they are also prophets?
Far below, on the beach, were his friends
Half-naked bums
Partying in the sun
There were atheists
There were *** maniacs
The fat old Bumbo was a crazy bartender
I thought I was the only One. The Chosen One
I never knew they came in packs
All of them?
Even Bumbo is a prophet?
You mean to say you make me climb this eyrie-high
To tell I'm just one of them?
I'd rather not be a prophet
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 10:03 AM UTC
A princess
lives
in an eyrie
She has a magic wand
So she rollicks
She gazes
at the Pegasus
that disguised as an
aeroplane
The gardenias
the marvel of peru
the hibiscus
the poinsettia
the sweet pea
and the wisteria
electrify her
The warblers
visit her
everyday
She turns springy in spring
She turns sad in winter
She becomes restless in summer
She rises
like a phoenix
from the ashes
Again
she eagerly waits
for spring
She travels
to salubrious
places
She is elusive
Sep 21, 2021
Sep 21, 2021 at 10:35 PM UTC
HOW TO COUNT TO OVER FOUR...HUNDRED BILLION!
( for Maureen )
She makes a nest
in my lap.
Teddy, her blue blanket and
a twig and a stone she adopts.
The twig is
her newest bestest friend.
She watches THE KING AND I
from this eyrie.
Thumb in mouth she
soaks it all up.
The world decanted
into music.
Later as I kiss her
goodnight
stars cluster about her
bedroom window.
"How many stars are
there?"
"Oh, I don't know...over
400 billion I suppose!"
She starts to count
what she can see
reaches ten and then
begins again.
Ten is all
she can count.
Then sleepy she
whispers
"etc., etc., etc.!"
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
. It’s like I don’t know why I search for answers , when I know my heart wants nothing to do with life. Even mustering words to be noticed doesn’t matter. Anyone can say anything, truth is life is unfair, we just want to squeeze some false hope out of it. I hate myself, and I hate people. but as time passes I lose my state of thought, now I don’t even respond to pain like I use to. I just let it soak in, I don’t eat like I use to , I just let my stomach feed off of me, I don’t speak to anyone anymore, I just stare at them and pretend the voices is some eyrie soul telling me to end my life. We hold on to life because we don’t know what’s going to happen. As I slip away day by day in my thoughts I find I’m dying slowly. Slavery was around the corner. The world is not over it. I won’t speak of power, who cares who wants it. All I want is the same as you , to forget everything and not forget how much I hate being alive , I have no friends I don’t want any, I don’t see family I don’t want any. Alone makes you crazy, I talk to myself, and I bleed. When you become lost. Nothing matters what ppl say. Cause everyone is a hypocrite me too . Hope you find a way to live. If you have to go then sit and pray to anything , the devil God the plants pray to the insects that bit you. Just find energy to deter your mind. Because you will do it **** your soul then you will **** yourself. Don’t research anything on the internet it’s designed to make you wanna die more. Nothing can help you in life when you give up. That doesn’t mean nature cannot help. Hug a tree , lie in dirt and roll and scream out loud make the world hear you. If your ashamed to do any of this then you haven’t reached the stage of suicide you just feel life is unfair and wanna die. For me , im crazy and won’t accept help, Why is like this, because all I see is slavery in life. Freedom is there but you suffer if you don’t input to society , so be here if you want go if you want. Stop worrying about who has the better answer for your problems , none of them can help you. Not even me, so die if you want live if you want post a message about dying if you want. You will still feel the same. I pray to the universe that the strings of your life be plucked differently so that your burdens in thought will fight for you and not against you.
L.S.
Mar 2, 2025
Mar 2, 2025 at 8:54 PM UTC
I went singing to your outer heaven
but nothing moved within.
Then my voice turned to ice
frozen by the gaze
of your cold and luminous no.
I went dancing to your inner hell
but the flames fired without.
Then my feet turned to ashes
smouldering on the precipice
of your burning cruel denial.
I went smiling to your welcoming eyes
but nothing flickered there.
Then my lips turned to dust
lashed beyond the void
of your lids’ stunning eclipse.
I went loving to your secret self
but emptiness was there.
Then my heart turned to shards
stranded in the ruins
of your other sense of being.
I went soaring to your angel eyrie
but shadows lingered there.
Then my flight turned to eagles
blasted by the revelation
of your vast golden dwelling.
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC