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Nicki Tilston Jun 2015
The girl with the kite
Didn't have a care
She'd run on the beach
With the wind in her hair
She'd run up hills
Lie in fields of wild flowers
Gazing at the ever changing sky
She would dream for hours

The girl with the kite
Saw faces in the sky
Angels looking down on her
From clouds floating by
She'd hold on so tight
As her kite took flight
She said she'd never let go
Of her beautiful kite

The girl with the kite
Would make daisy chains
She'd pick clover and butter cups
As she walked country lanes
Life was simple
Or it seemed that way
The sun was always shining
When she went out to play

The girl with the kite
Started to grow
She felt under pressure
To let her kite go
Demands were made
For her to achieve and perform
Make her way in the world
Please other people and conform

The girl with the kite
Felt things were going wrong
It was hard growing up
Then a man came along
He played his guitar
He brought a bouquet
As he sang his sweet song
Her kite drifted away

The girl with the kite
Heard his sweet song turn sour
His true colours were shown
As the man used his power,
Manipulation and aggression
To clip her wings
To crush her spirit
To pull her strings

The girl with the kite
Felt she was to blame
For her bad choices
She hid her shame
Kept her sadness a secret
Tried to make things right
Trapped in her world
She lost her self in the fight

The girl with the kite
Wanted to die
She couldn't live any more
She had no kite to fly
She went to the Doctor
Who gave her some pills
They just made her numb
Didn't cure her ills

The girl with the kite
Slept for a decade, or more
Life went on around her
Each day was a chore
She had to wake from the inertia
She had become bereft
When she woke from the dark sleep
She had nothing left

The girl with the kite
Had to start anew
Like a Phoenix from the ashes
She knew she'd pull through
She's found her kite
Found a beach for it to blow
Up to the angels on their clouds
This time, she won't let go

The girl with the kite
Is now a woman, strong and proud
Content to live her life alone
Independent and unbowed
She flies her kite sedately
Life is not a race
She's free to fly it when she wants to
It flies at her own pace

Nicki Tilston.
sabrine Nov 2013
It was nice outside
A warm afternoon
The sun was shining
During the month of June

It was fairly windy
So we went to the park
My father and I
We would stay until dark

He brought a kite
"My favorite," he said
As he tugged the kite
And loosened the thread

"I found this baby
Before you were born
And it's the only one
I've ever adored"

I smiled at him
He looked very proud
Looking at his favorite kite
Flying among the clouds

It was the first time in a while
To have a smile from ear to ear
Because not long before
My mother disappeared

I tried to keep my mind off her
I had to think of something else
Other than the way she laughed
Or how she dressed or smelled

So I stared at the kite
And I laid back
I kept my eye on it
To help me relax

I tried not to think, but
The kite reminded me of her
So I kept my eye on the kite
And everything else was a blur

The way the kite fought
Against the wind
Reminded me of my mother
And the way she grinned

Metaphorically, I thought
The kite was my mother
Because of the way it carried itself
Reminded me of her

The kite was just like my mom
It had the same skin
I could have sworn that this kite
Was my mother's twin

The way the kite flew
Thought it was better than the rest
It's as if this flight
Was for all to test

If my mother was a kite
This kite would be her
Because often times my mother
Had delusions of grandeur

This kite was my mother
I could have sworn
Because where my mom had scars
The kite was torn

Then I saw something on that kite
That frightened me a tad
That kite had the same tattoo
As the one my mother had
if you don't get it, the kite is the skin of the mother (very morbid lol)
Phil Lindsey Mar 2015
Dad made a kite
Out of paper and wood
And a white, ripped up sheet for a tail.
We all watched with wonder when without any wind
He could make his kite rise up and sail!
The trick, he would tell us
Is to run just a bit, then let the string play out just so.
There is wind up above us that you cannot see
It will make the kite rise up and go.

Up went his kite
High up over the trees
And soon it was up with clouds.
It dipped, skipped and twirled as he tightened his rein
“It’s DANCING!” we shouted out loud!
The kite, he would tell us
Responds to your touch, don’t hold it too loose or too tight.
Be forgiving, yet firm, let it fly by itself
And most times it will turn out all right.

Dad gave the kite
To the youngest child there,
And the rest of us waited our turn.
The kite soared, then collapsed; our confidence too
Dad taught; we attempted to learn.
Life, he would tell us
Is like flying a kite, you hold on but you cannot control.
Don’t let a failure or lack of success
Stop you from reaching your goal.

Be like the kite
Reach as high as you can
Set your goals high, and dance with the clouds!
Respect and remember the wind you can’t see.
It’s your Faith that will make others proud.
Faith, he would tell us
Is the courage to fly, and belief in a Presence unseen.
But most of all Faith is the strength to go on
When your kite gets stuck high in a tree.
PwL 3/30/15
My Kite

The view of purplish branches upon the trees and
Looking beyond grassy mountains on the horizon
Bring back memories of my childhood days,
Wading in a nearby creek and flying my kite before a sunlit sky
And then recalling the wind beginning to blow.

Magenta leaves would decorate
Branches of both growing and fallen trees-
Wild geese soared above and deer were running freely
While my kite was carried upward by the wind
As highly as those trees would ever grow.

My kite I believed would carry that mysterious spirit deep inside of me
Into which I had placed all my faith and trust
The tail of my kite seemed to cross the sun, though far above me
I feared the demons’ of the woodlands following me as I walked-
But with strong assurance I pursued my kite wherever it would go.

Dark clouds began to cover the sun one day and
Branches upon the trees were seemingly blackening
While lightening sharply illuminated the sky
I believed a storm was rapidly approaching.
As fright and haunting disbelief inside of my mind began to overshadow.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     .
I have told others that my kite held within my protective soul which was always with me
Because I saw it to be an angel dancing freely in the sky
I believe my kite held inside the spirit of a seraph,
That saved me from all that betrayed and hurt me
As the voices inside of my mind had often told me so.

Years have passed and that wind was always fierce and deceitful-
Breaking the string with which I held my kite-
I sadly watched it as it flew higher and higher towards the sky
Until it disappeared behind those approaching darkening thunderclouds
Vanishing beyond my sight- leaving me frightened and alone below.

Years have also passed since I lost my kite which I believed was my guiding illumination
People would laugh and say my mind had escaped reality
Now I can see that there is no one to save me from those demons of this planet
I still hide the pain of loss of my spirit of salvation behind laughter and a smile
But that does not erase the void I feel inside and that is an unrelenting sorrow.

Claudia Krizay
A kite with faded colors
and unwoven threads,
once made with care,
now not much more than shreds.

It hovered with sorrow
longing to fly free,
but found it was held fast
by an unwavering string.

The cord was not much to look at,
most people would say.
But it was charming to the kite
in its own humble way.

It was vulnerable in places
and had a knot here and there,
but it never once faltered.
In its task, it took care.
It held the kite tightly
and made sure it stayed.
Otherwise, the high aiming kite
would surely float away.

Although the twine was secure,
gripping the helpless kite,
without the kite’s grasp,
the string would never take flight.
The able piece of rope would’ve
spent all its days
lying dormant on the dust,
never to be raised.
The kite helped it dream,
to see the sky and clouds,
and the string made sure
they both stayed near the ground.

The kite had seen other ropes,
crafted more tasteful and long.
They were appealing on the surface,
but never as strong.
They always broke off,
not steady enough to stay,
but this plain, simple cord
was there day after day.

The kite learned to love it,
saw beauty out and inside.
They weren’t sure if they’d make it,
but they’d undoubtedly try
to hold each other in place
until the end of their time.

A simple, sound string
and a half-broken kite.
As I rushed home, I thought about

The last thing that I'd read

"Can we go out to fly my kite?

Before I go to bed."

A text was sent by my young son

To go and fly his kite

I texted back "no problem son,"

"We'll go do that tonight"

Once I got home, I went to change

And he changed his clothes too

The sun was still up shining

And the kite would help the view

The wind was blowing briskly

Just enough to fly it right

And if others were out flying too

It would really be a sight

I told my son, to dress up warm

For the wind did hold a chill

But, flying kites with my young boy

Well, it gave my heart a thrill

He gathered up his kite

And then he raced me to the door

I picked up my hat that had

Been knocked upon the floor

He raced me up the street as we

made our way out to the park

He wanted to be first

to get there before it did get dark

He held his kite so tightly,

I myself thought it would break

It was a black and golden box kite

With a tail just like a snake

We bought it up in Chinatown

At a little antique shop

When the wind hit it just perfect

It would just hover and then stop

Of all the kites he owned

This was his favorite one

I think it was his favorite

Because it danced beneath the sun.

We got there, I let out the string

And I got it in the air

And once it became airborne

I tied it to his chair

My son, can't hold the kite string

Can't control the way it flies

He's confined to his blue wheelchair

Until the day he dies

He controls it with his finger

Races all around the place

And when we get out flying kites

There's such a smile on his face

He backs it up, the kite responds

Flying high up in the sky

"i wish that I could be that free"

"I wish that I could fly"

"One day son, you will be free"

"You'll be as mobile as that kite

You'll be moving like you used to do

"On your feet, you'll be so light"

He was injured in an accident

But, that's not here nor there,

He was hit by a drunk driver

He was too **** drunk to care

But for now, my boy is smiling

We're out flying kites at night

And as long as we're toghether

Then our world is still all right.
K Balachandran Dec 2013
The kite gets  high, stays aloft-
quite some time displaying
enviable dexterity, for fun
do spectacular  somersaults as much times
as it could, climbs up in air with a loud swoosh
then look! how the wind gets *****
with her, if she has something
of  a skirt, it goes up, up to an
indecent height, she doesn't have
that balance a player at such
heights should have kept always.
Its absurd, all these acrobatics silly kite
displays before the world at high altitudes
with a unholy interest
to show herself more accomplished
than what she really is, could you
pardon that frivolity, because she
has many more colors than clouds.

He admits abashedly that he too was
once in love with her frivolous attractiveness,
but he never could understand a kite;
in spite of the lightness, that makes
it easier to travel heights, has kite a significance?
After all what is a kite? her merit?
a strange arrangement that defies
common sense, all it can do is aimless flying.

Isn't it a charge serious enough?
even a dry leaf, or a falling feather
can do these acrobatics for a while.
What is the meaning of a kite,
kindly someone notify , if it has any,
meaningless flying is not for anything
of substance, what kind of play
is it,   if it is perceived as one, by any one
why the folly of someone take us
for a ride all these years, without
a second thought, he wonders
who might have promoted it,  had some
ulterior motive, some point to prove;
wind, mightiest of forces is made to look weak
in everyday life .
He would suspect, in the bargain many
generations too spent their time
in this vein pursuit without any thought.
Any kite display a greed to go up and
stay there, till the time it is possible to float
don't want to be back, when wind is on her side
unless force is applied, what does it signify?

Kite has a hunger to touch wonder with its fingers
he knows, and he can't but appreciate it
and when the occasion arises she fly up to the cloud,
play with him as if he is her secret lover, that hurts
could such a liaisons are to be  be tolerated
she knows how a cloud tastes at different times
Yes, sky certainly intoxicates her,
she want to move closer, doesn't it spell danger?

A girl small, requests her uncle for some "manja" and a kite.
Then goes up to the terrace quietly, choosing a lonely site.
Writing something on the kite, when away from others sight.

She then tries to fly it high up to heaven, in a hurry;  with a push light.
The kite finally soars up, Heavenward; after some struggle n fight.
Suddenly her family, after a long time, see on her face a smile bright.

The kite now, far away is, and zooming to a height;
When suddenly it is cut off and is soon out of everyone's sight.
When her they approach to console, see they, a smile bright.

Surprised they are n dumb founded, to see her dancing with all her might.
Ask her they, why happy she is about this; on seeing this plight.
Replies the cute little girl, my kite has, my mother reached; n will soon be in her sight.

I have sent my love n asked her to return; with ink blue on this kite white.
Soon, o very soon, the kite will reach Heaven, n will be within my mum's sight.
With tears they hugged her; knew they, nothing could be done, about the orphan's plight.

Armin Dutia Motashaw
I. awoke to crest fallen clouds so heavy with water ,
and wind as wild as what was left in my heart .
Intrepid it was not .
Fearful of God it had become ,
Starved of joy ,
Peace ,
For if a man is left to starve he must go hungry and thirst for food ,
For it is all he can think of .
If a man cannot find water he must thirst .
If a soul finds God and does not find rest in his word ,
and looks for it not ,
Then his fields and trees may wither ,
What was once beautiful become ugly and dry .
I stood on a mountain ,
I stand on a hill ,
With other boys beside me
the Kite master stood still .
With a Kite he stood ,
With grey sky's above ,
and released that Kite to soar above .
Thick dense clouds it soared past thicket , trees and woods .
I watched as the bird flew out of view .
The masters call
, is the faith to know ,

I stood there waiting ...

Once where serindipidy stood ,
Somewhere between luck and chance dance ,
and fortune lights up a toast to all above ,
the Kite turned back ,
Spread its wings for home .
with Faith ,
Hope and love it spread its wings .
It's master called once again

For the flies you swotted when you were young
now reside in peerless sky's ,
in The Concert halls of God
Playing Jesu joy of mans desiring .
on miniature grand pianos ,
In honor of their creator .

So pray ,
and seek ,
For I saw that Kite many hours in flight ,
as the evenings Sun sank ,
and darkened clouds asailed. It not ,
The kite in evening shadow returned ,
And even if all my friends had gone ,
The Kite masters call  ,
how long the wait
It's never to late ,
And Christ is Lord of  all ,
to the Glory of God the Father .
Ronnie Ng Nov 2011
He wasn't very confident about himself
as he had lost a kite before. The kite was
playful and frolicked with the winds. She
wanted to fly as high as she could to touch
the clouds and reach for the sun. The winds
were too strong for the boy, and he lost his grip.
The kite wandered off and joined the winds;
She was lost in sight, and the boy lost his trust.

This time, the boy tightened the knots to his new
kite and made sure that the string wasn't too long.
He gripped as hard as he could and kept his eyes
on the kite. There weren't many clouds and the winds
weren't too strong this time. He ought to feel safe
this time, but to his surprise, the kite got stuck between
the branches of a tree, and the string got cut off;
He learned that some things just weren't meant to be.

Copyright, Ronnie Ng, 2011 (
Pea Jun 2014
If I ever talk to the cloud again
and ask where my kite went ---

But the cloud would not speak
for it has no tongue nor teeth

Maybe my kite heard the wind singing
Or the sweet, sweet voice of Siren luring

Sun floats still
Couldn't run away

Sun stole, stole
Stole my kite away

If I ever talk to Ra again ---
I had no time explaining

Such sensitive teeth my kite has
Don't let it bite the Siren's voice

Sweet, sweet haze

Sun floats still
Earth on routine

What did my kite say
when it reached your core?

It reached your core,
didn't it? It reached your core,
didn't it? It reached y--

Tell me what my kite said,
would you?
Philly James Dec 2013
My kite, was new and spotless,
It was one of the things I held dearest.
Being selfish, I never once did share my kite,
Having it destroyed was one true fright.

Even on warm windy days,
I won't borrow it to my friend who plays.
This greedy feeling built up inside,
Blinding other things from my site.

Moving along with my kite in hand,
I flew it above some grassy land.
The weather was perfect, the sky was clear,
My mind was free, I had no fear.

Birds chirping, filling the air with tune,
My kite, by the air, it was consumed.
Out of no where on this perfect day,
My kite popped the string and flew away.

My heart was broken, to a level I couldn't compare,
'What have I done, to deserve this despair?'
Starring at my kite soaring through the sky,
A trail of tears escaped my eyes.

Now I see what selfishness does,
It separates you and the things you love.
I was so blind to see,
What my greedy heart had done to me.

Standing there, staring at the kite that once was mine,
I couldn't help but smile and feel divine.
My selfishness, the kite, all my troubles were taken away,
Taken away by the wind that very day.
Lora Cerdan Oct 2014
There was once a kite flyer
who flew his kites so high
He can hold on to his strings
and never get tired

He makes his kites by hand
He makes 'em colorful
He makes 'em grand

So one day, the kite maker flew his finest kites
In the hopes of showing everyone his amazing feats of flight
But because there were so many and the wind was strong
His strings tangled and the flight patterns got all wrong
one of the strings snapped and one of the kites flew
the wind took it and away it blew

One by one the strings broke
and all the kite flyer can do was to watch them float
away from him, the kites were set free
All his hard work, his dreams. his reality

The kite flyer looked up the sky
crying and regretting
There's nothing left of him
nothing but broken strings
I don't know how to fly kites let alone make one
A Castillo Dec 2013
A kite—that's something I would like.
When ground is damp and lambs are born,
The kite floats up to lofty height.
When sky is fleeced and trees are crisp,
The kite is pulled up forks of light.
When brittle leaves are shed and blown,
The kite is thrown into their flight.
When dewy grass is glazed in rime,
The kite on frosty field alights.
When frost creeps over, all is white.
raen Sep 2011
Am I the only one to think
that a kite is such a sad thing?

never really free,
forever tied to a string

Yes, it can soar indeed,
so high, with the wind taking it places,
almost making it forget,
just enjoying the wind rushing through,

The wind drops,
then it gets snared
among tree branches maybe,
or perhaps stuck on a roof or elsewhere

with its string all tangled and knotted,
almost impossible to untangle

if made with paper,
it should be lucky to still be intact,
with nary a tear

more often than not,
it gets ditched in the trash,
the price to pay for
its momentary freedom

Sometimes, though
perhaps a rarity these days,
there is that boy who makes
that kite from scratch,
whittles the sticks himself,
painstakingly forming that frame,
creating that kite with love

So when it does get all tangled up,
that boy still tries so hard to fix it,
to make it new...
never minding the cuts
he gets in the process--

That string not meant to tie down
that kite,
but a lifeline to the boy

But like I said,
that must be a rare thing these days...

For I am one to think
that a kite is such a sad thing...
never really free,
forever tied to a string
Jessica Fowler Mar 2012
The pull is strong,
heavy. The dense weight
of a kite tugging at its string.

The pearl of the moon swung
over the sea. Easily. Here, there. Wherever it might want,
yet the pull is strong.

Held in place, it’s carefully strung
up and cold. I thought of you and wrote
daily; a kite tugging at its string.

Be free, shine in the white
pull that is strong.

Sharp as it stung
me, the ache of this wait;
a kite tugging at its string.

On my back you will be slung
close, yet wherever we are is right.
The pull is strong;
a kite tugging at its string.
Harsha Dec 2014
Wind was smooth,
And the kite, flying high.
And me, in full control of the kite,
I assume.

The kite above,
like a paint brush.
The  sky beneath it,
like a canvas.

The string pulled me,
towards the kite.
I was attracted,
I give in.

But the wind got gusty,
The string snapped.
The kite flew away,
Like She did.

The kite,
No longer with me.
But still pulls me,
Like She does.
Trenton Hartford Jun 2015
When I was eight years old, I always wanted to grow up just so I could order the cool toys they were selling on T.V. I never wanted my parents permission to be able to play a game because I felt like a big boy.

When I was first titled “Big Boy” I thought that meant I could make my own mistakes and learn from them, not have my own kite string of restrictions on what I could and couldn’t do that was only being unraveled as time flashed by.

Now that I’m seventeen, I don’t want my own responsibilities, I still want to have the kite string attached to me because at least then I know somebody still cares about me.

I don’t want to worry about how much money I have to eat, or where I’m going to sleep at night because this Kite only feels safe under the roof I live in now. The time my father passes away who am I supposed to look for when I want real advice. Better still why would people come to me for advice?

I want to know that no matter what mistakes in life I make, that my family right now will be there for me in years beyond then

I want a never ending kite string attached to me because the real world is nothing I ever dreamed about. Knowing I have to work hard every single day and only be told I’m appreciated temporarily by people who are considered family.

I don’t want to be the one asked to buy some crazy pillow that glows in the dark and is super cool, by my kids, while I’m sitting in the kitchen worrying about how much money i have for food week after week.

I want to be the one sitting in front of the T.V. again…..

Having my teal colored gameboy waiting for lunch.

But now it’s just that stage, where the string attached to me is about to be clipped, for nightmares of responsibilities, to become reality.
A poem about my fear of getting older
I’m a kite
Attached to a string
Moments of freedom
Reveling in the feeling of the wind
Until a tug
And a pull
Keeps you in place
Reminds me
I’m not truly free

Someone won’t you set me free?
Someone won’t you help me?
Loosen the string
Loosen your hold
So I can fly free
Away from here
Away from the string holding me here

Let me be an untethered kite
I could fly free
Explore the world
Bring joy
With my flashy colors
My vibrant patterns

Instead I am under the control
Of those who keep me
Who decide when I have a few minutes
Riding on the freedom of the wind

I wish I had arms
To reach down
With a pair
Of gleaming scissors
To cut my tether

I wish I had a voice
To tell them what I want
What I think
Because they won’t listen
Won’t pay attention
To my relentless fight
To my constant struggle
Against the confines of my rope

Won’t someone set me free?
Can’t somebody help me?
To become an untethered kite?
Taylor Aldous Dec 2013
I drift alone on this sea of life
Searching the skies for an answer
I search the stars and endless blue
Though I rarely find the answer I'm after
I know what you're thinking
If you're tired of drifting just put down your anchor
But my boat starts sinking
It doesn't work in my favor

What is an anchor?
It's something that lies on the sea's ground
Something that will hold you down
The reason why I almost drown
But I need it.
I need to have the depression
I crave the tears
I've been living with the tragedy of me for all these years
I crave the kite
The manic episodes of my existence
My ideas are vast
I show persistence
I fly high above people and I feel my spirit soar
I grab on to the strings when I cant take anymore
But the landing is always rough
It's unpredictable and fast
Aha! I found my answer alas!
I hold on to my kite while I drag my anchor
So my boat can float comfortably on the sea
I love my kite and my anchor
They are the two most extreme parts of me
fs yousaf Sep 2018
My father used to bring home kites
from Pakistan,
made out of colorful paper
and thin sticks.

Mine was pink and blue,
and caught my eye as soon
as it was taken out.
It was beautiful,
and i imagined it soaring through
the skies,
viewable from all the houses in town.

The yarn was grey,
and had minuscule shards of glass
woven within it.
My father told me that it was for kite fighting,
the way they used to do it from the rooftops
of the villages.

One would fly the kite
and the other would be in charge of the spool.
Together, they would change altitudes
and attempt to cut other kite strings.
The last kite left in the air would be the winner.

And my mind would run to those rooftops,
the very sand ridden rooftops he had described.
Imaginarily controlling the kite
with a friend handling the spool behind me.
Together winning the kite fighter crown,
and my father being proud of his only son.

All while i lay in bed,
with a grand imagination,
and not a single clue
on how to make the last thought a reality.
Andrew Rueter Nov 2017
I take flight
With all my might
To be your kite
Following you wherever you go
To be part of your ebb and flow
People think I ingested the wrong pill
Because up here I can't see the roadkill
And float over the pitch black oil spills
From the end of your string
I become king

There is an approaching storm
As you deviate from the norm
And discontinue acting warm
Your lightning strikes
My metal pike
Electricity tears through my thin fabric
As I dream of a tranquil casket
And you want to grant me my death wish
I guess that's why they call me Icarish
For flying to close to the rain
Only to constantly feel pain
To distract me from the shame
From those with unknown names
But familiar bigoted flames
To me you both are the same
Once I go against the grain
You tell me to stay in my lane
High above the gravelly ground
Where you can't hear my sounds
Of impaling wailing
Because you're bailing
Letting go of the string
You become king

I am a kite floating
Spending night noting
All my many mistakes
That caused these breaks
But despite trying my very best
The wind provides a difficult test
After I am battered into tatters
My hopes couldn't be flatter
So I start to feel it doesn't matter
When my dreams came true then shattered
The wind solemnly sings
Of distant powerful kings
But I cannot fly anymore
In my broken kite form
Hannah Christina Sep 2018
I bought myself a kite to fly
I tossed it up and ran around
I tried to pull it through the sky
But found it just dragged on the ground.

It landed in the mud, it was mangled, it was done
And thus concludes the tragic tale of the kite I numbered one.

My second kite was different.
It caught a mighty gale
I flew it well, then let it go
And in the end I failed.

It joined released balloons and leaves, whatever else is there
In the *****, lonely cloudland in the out-of-picture air.

I still had hope and so I bought
My final silken bird
I told myself that I would soon
Unleash it to the word.

The kite's debut date got pushed back and further back until
It found a final resting place untested in its skill.

I bought myself three kites to fly
The first two meet ill fates
The third one has a dusty shelf
Where it keeps very safe.
Of dreams and men.

I'll probably change the title and maybe edit more, we'll see.  This was honestly in my drafts for like over two months.  I wanted to finally publish it.
Pagan Paul Jan 2019
The string trails away down
I tug it with all of my might,
I am the hue of setting suns,
I am a sporting red kite.

I wanted someone with scissors
to so deftly cut the strings,
transform into a real Red Kite
with eyes and feathers and wings.

Floating free upon the winds,
and marvelling at all that I spy,
swooping and diving at high play,
the flying master of the sky.

But now something has changed,
a strange and different feeling,
I think I'd like to be grounded,
for someone to start in-reeling.

I would like to feel so treasured,
a possession of the hearts cry.
Wishing to be the real Red Kite,
the pleasure in someone else's sky.

© Pagan Paul (30/12/18)
Corina Sep 2015
You were born to dance
run free in the wind
don't tie yourself
you shouldn't get stuck in one place

This kite
is not a dancer
it barely noticed the wind
for many many years

The kite is stuck
******* on a lamp post
cold and lonely
but scared to let go

Kite, cut yourself free
let the next breeze
lift you high
and let you be you
Alin Jan 2015
Let me always stay here
at this height
where I am free
to dream

This vacuum
made of white light
beyond skies
above clouds
sprinkles rainbows
to lovers
when you
Alin Sep 2016
imagine a kite today
that becomes visible
only because
you’ve imagined it

imagine a kite today
that will be seen
in all colors
made of
the rainbows
of the eyes
of the loving
Abdullah Ayyash Jul 2015
Day after day
And a night before tonight
Knight after knight
Lost lives climbing your height
You are a mountain
You are the moon
Don't pretend you are not the light
You are a thousand year of dreams
You are a life time of hopes
And without you...
I'm just a lost kite
© Copyrighted
Abdullah Ayyash
July 8th, 2015
st64 Mar 2013

Oh, liftin'........liftin'......lift us

Carryin'.......carryin'.......carry away....

Ah, Jesus .....

Driftin' on this sea
That nobody can see.....

Come.....come with me......
Let us meet that rising tide
Let us drift away.....
On celestial kites.


Ah, Jesus
Please.....oh, please

Tides away on a kite
Take this filter, baby
You can't cut smoke
So, float along....on celestial kites.

Take it in, **** it in
Wait, wait, not so deep
There, easy does the trick now
Now, we can sail away again....

I will be your exquisite poesy
You can eat me, all you want
Yes, I'm your intense poem, take me
Absorb the tides in me....

You float my boat up in the sky
My beautiful buoy, you are
Hover gentle over me
Look kind into my eyes......

Hang me in the sky
And peg your love on me
Lay me on the moon
And pierce my mind with stars....

Plop me on a nimbus cloud
Nay, I will not fall through
Forsooth, I'll sail on wind and gale
To catch that kite to you!

How I long for that box to open
Oh, do lemme out! I smell the breeze....
I'll die sweetly, perchance
To be on your celestial kite.

Leave me not sodden and sick
Let's fly high on celestial kites
Where angels pray to kiss
These high skies no-one kens.

Ah, Jesus....

Let me not die bereft of hope
To drift away...... with you..... snag that tail-end ribbon
And hail this ride on your kite!

Star Toucher, 12 March 2013
Make of it . . . as far as ye mind canst see fit . . .
Abby Sanderson Nov 2011
Outside my window I see a kite,
red as a cherry right before its prime,
flying against a grey sky.
It's struggling to escape, relentless like a dog on a leash,
tugging and stretching until its tongue hangs out.
A boy with clumsy sneakers and a curious smile,
with skinny legs like knobby branches,
and a freckled, sun-burned, smiling face,
feels its tugging and stretching,
but decides with great determination,
to never let it get away.
ryn Dec 2014

i wish
to infinitely
soar•in the highest
of skies•always higher,
and always more•held back by
the string that ties•i'd still welcome
hale air•as it blows stunningly
fresh•meets and carries my
body bare•bearing invi-
sible treasures in its
cache...•the errant
breeze i'd openly
fight•but i was
made with a
shoddy kit
•i'm fail-
ing and

Thinking Doc Jul 2015
Long were the hours then, full of anger,
I sat on my broken throne, a reminder of my defeat,
like a shattered dream, my heart in pieces,
and my mind still in flames.

In my dreams, psychedelic promises of freedom flower,
like battered gardens in a battlefield,
I could have gone anywhere, and escaped,
but I longed for a sign that never came.

I looked at the concrete horizon, in anger,
blinded by my words, deafened by my pain,
I was wounded, bruised, battered, and bleeding,
each drop of blood bore silent testimony.

I longed for freedom, I thrashed at the chains,
that bound me there, I despaired, i looked up to the sky,
I found no stars, an empty darkness,
opened its jaws at my shame.

I broke free one day, I ran,
my legs carried me farther,
than my mind could have ever imagined,
and my wounds no longer hurt,
I was no longer bleeding,
in my dreams, promises were flowering in springtime.

I ran all my life, I was existing once but I was running then,
Finally, exhausted, I stop, still walking, there are no shadows,
behind me is my prison, my mind is still frozen on suffering,
Psychedelic promises of Love, lie shattered here,
Love was the sign that never came,
it was a promise of rain, but all was dark in my heart,
All I am left with, is a pocket of loose change,
and a kiss from Time, like a shooting star on a dark sky.

Time comes again with that fatal kiss,
but I am still searching for the shore,
Walking so hard, that fatigue, burns my flesh,
The shadows have gone, but so has the light,
there is nothing to guide me to the Shore.

Still i walked, till I saw the Kite,
the Kite on the Shore, a banner, or freedom,
I walked towards the Kite, there was a string,
that tied it to Earth, as it soared high above,
like the Moon on a clear night,
it was my North Star, my guide,
it was the Key, and the Shore was the gateway,
to my freedom.

I saw the ocean stretch itself till the horizon,
and with Pride, I surveyed the road behind me,
the shadows I left behind,
the trail that I carved was now a blur,
my sufferings were placed like an offering,
on the altar of the eternal freedom
that was the ocean, and the Kite still soared in the dusky sky.

I saw the string that tied it down,
I felt the wind that lifted it up,
I stooped, and broke the string,
and set myself free.

— The End —