“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label prey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prey. Show all posts
Monday, April 29, 2019
Pray, Prey
"Praying is asking; meditation is listening"
At what point-if any-does saintly
become so sacrificial
that death is its ultimate end?
When, if ever, does the heart of an angel,
hit with its own dart,
concede this too
must be divine?
Whence and why does Spirit
move energy so intensely
it reverberates into the material
realm?
Maybe the middle is maddening
to mock me
for the time
I put into making such massive
messes.
I have studied for this test.
All of the questions cannot be known
before-
I have learned
only enough to get by
and yet I try
anyway
I can
to pass-
to move on
to the next question.
Painting by Margaritis Georgios, 'Sappho praying to Aphrodite' before 1843 [Public domain].
Sunday, January 20, 2019
Sky stalker
He was close
atop the next door
roofline,
two doors and eight windows away,
I can feel him
not caring
but staring
at me
clearly
cocking his head
and aiming his
attention my way.
I return his gaze
between two crows feet
I squint
and am unable to define
where wing
and feather divide
like the wind
no where
Now
how he can soar
based on feeling
a passing breeze
across his breast
plate
I maintain my ground
feeling anchored
under air
the predator holds its breath
while the raptor releases
a piercing scream
before
he takes flight
giving one more glance
downward
I stay affixed
under this eave
awaiting a closure
of wing, sky
and the hungry eye.
Painting by Edwin Henry Landseer, 'The falcon' c. 2837 in Public domain.
Thursday, February 25, 2016
To Prey
Perched upon the precipice, putting it out...There
Toes of talons testing
Tensile strength
the weight of gravity’s grip
Knuckles fisted white feathers
circle around palms, swooping ling lines
under current, jet streams, screams
of circles
sees squarely, keen
seen belly dancing
BuTter-f-l-I-e-s
Flutter, stutter, mutter
pinned in air
frozen
tock-only
circles in the sand, out-lines
beat
ArounD
the bush
Tracing the clock
You Are Here.
Composed 3/27/15.
Image By Justin Connaher (https://www.dvidshub.net/image/1695289) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
The predator on top of his prey
They became civilized
after many ages
and stages of refinement.
They wanted to live longer,
a race with no finish line.
They practiced,
they failed much, succeeded few.
They fought and resisted
they conceded and persisted.
They started
by removing death threats,
like hunger
and
exposure
They experimented
with potions and rhetoric.
They bottled magic
and peddled poisons,
to live
more
and they did.
They lived so long
they forgot their youth,
they jumped to the end,
decrepit at the start
with nothing to grow on.
They followed tradition,
it led them along.
Their bodies decay from security,
hearts get bored with emotion,
their mind aches,
blinded by the reflection.
They never should have lived
this long
this way-
which is why
they prey
on weakness
to make
go away
They
will
be done.
All men.
Image by Hans Holbein the Younger (1497/1498–1543) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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