High in the Eyrie, stone cold and stark,
Where stars peer in and walls leave a mark,
The sky is a floor and the wind is a blade,
And the edge is a whisper where brave men fade.
The stone is slanted, the door left wide,
So night may beckon and pride may slide.
Here justice hangs by a falcon’s cry,
In a cell where the floor meets the open sky.
But gaze too long at the void below,
Where clouds swirl soft and shadows grow,
And Nietzsche’s warning starts to sear—
The abyss above begins to leer.
It sees you crumble, stripped and bare,
A soul unstitched by frost and air.
What stares from down may dwell within,
And pull you out with quiet sin.
So watch your thoughts and hold your breath—
For the sky may sentence more than death.
In silence vast and justice thin,
The fall begins not out—but in.
The price of water
Driving down from Eyrie- I said that
to sound educated, I never had much schooling
and often feel inferior when asking for the price
of a packet of margarine
I was thinking of God's existence; is he a man
or a woman, perhaps an unfortunate person
who wears a suit to work but would rather
wear a smart lady outfit.
I wondered if he was in charge of the rainbow
if so, I would like a brighter color; the rainbow
looked pale as a sullen milkmaid at six in the morning
tell him to let the rainbow show where it ends
saving us to go hunt for the elusive gold coins
When it is stuck firmly on the ground
let children have found while adults hopefully dig
At the bottom of a hill, a dry river, its banks looked sandy and
I thought of Palestine and the poverty they have to endure
The thought of water reminded me I had to pay
the water bill today, or they will shut me off
The eyrie is miles away;
but egg shells lie in my yard.
Eagles? not your ordinary birdbrain.
January 19, 2023
Rick Parise: 1 QUOTE ONEQUOTE
During
your
twirling
soliloquy
&
throbbing
zeal
for
endless
dalliance
beckon
me
will
come
again
&
again
to
your
eyrie
on
rainy days
on
frosty darks
exacerbating
flames
of
queasy
symptoms
wren
winnows
mesquite
ambiance
magnifies
relish
crave
&
devotee
shake
leaves
nodding
piano
&
softer
cuddle
drums
memorabilia
weary
in
perky
straits
Written: November 18, 2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Ode To Poets
Poets have vivid imaginations because their minds work differently.
They see things others don’t, with an understanding that goes deeper.
They bare words on paper smudged by tears of pain and laughter,
And to see one in action will set emotions fluttering into the weather.
O to be a fledgling that has outgrown the eyrie,
Flinging itself off the cliff to ride on the currents freely.
Singing from on high, and then descending into the chasm,
Or to be a sailor departing on a bark to sail the seven oceans.
Where waves of innocence splash one’s face with indulgence.
Bathing in inspired nourishment independent of performance.
And to perk one’s ears toward the grandest stage of entertainment,
And share an experience with someone dear to your resemblance.
On a platform high enough so that the world will see your presence.
“Hark!” the poet reiterates a memory to be cherished by their audience,
Who come to hear freshness in this stale world of commerce and politics.
You cannot climb a mountain without strength, but you can endeavour
Throughout the passage of time, and treasure the poets’ candor.
exile, exuding, harsh hooching, hitched-
evoked, exeme, eyrie, eagles?
7/13/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
subtitle: And YOU called ME a birdbrain?
F FALCON F
O OSPREY O
R RAVEN R
E eyrie miles away E
S shells lay in my yard S
I insightful eagle I
G GULL G
H HAWK H
T TERN T
June 8, 2021
The chick killed its brother;
the weak have to be expelled
from the nest,
It had to be the last and the first,
the one still instinctively pecking,
still begging from the raw red mouth
to endure long enough to soar.
She feeds it the meat of its sibling,
She has no sorrow for death
yet she must blind her eyes
to do this thing.
It gulps, grows stronger.
The consumed brother helping
to shed downy floss,
to nourish new sleek feathers.
Morsels are brought, foreign tastes,
until a small bird is put into a gaping beak.
It is not an eaglet,
the bird was born weak and yet survived
until now.
Upon a time it is chased from the eyrie,
left alone on wilderness winds
where only wings
that have thrived upon their kin
may become mothers.
An eyrie of bald eagles stir,
waking to the fresh morning air.
Preening and primming flight feathers
grooming each with diligent care.
Flies buzz around yesterday's scraps,
fueled by the rays of the sun.
And shifting shadows disappear,
darkness defeated, dawn has won.
While perched high on a rocky crag,
their keen eyes soon survey the land.
And with uncanny precision,
vast hunting grounds are swiftly scanned.
Hungry eaglets flex flightless wings
forming formidable muscles.
And food brought by the parent birds
oft instigates sibling tussles.
Calling out and circling close by,
eagles urge chicks to leave the nest.
And for the first time, fledglings flap
feathered wings, passing nature's test.
(Quatrain)
07/19/2020
Branches of an oak tree bend and mourn the fall of its last acorn,
itself left wanting the warmth of chestnut leaves. Comfort in cupule.
Winter searches for mittens lost, misplaced during last year’s snow
below an eagle hunting for feathers - naked now, showered in goosebumps. Chicken.
Ivy crawls blindly looking for brick walls to climb,
as a rainstorm cranes its droplet heads upward, hoping to find a cloud to call father.
Eventually, that same fallen acorn sprouts limbs
which welcome ivy along its bark
and sips at rain, quenching the thirst of roots;
the acorn, stronger now, nestles an eagle’s eyrie with plume for blanket,
whilst warming winter with a springtime canopy, gloved.
(April 2020)
Everywhere we were, we were in the mood of seeking eyrie
At times, life’s roses and prickles prerequisite no banana
The forest accommodates amazing trees and flowers pulpit
In the sun, the minds are working hard and none is in bikini
No flower’s free of five bee visitors until you see the moon
Geckos game in the forest doesn’t interrupt bees work song
Monday, bees sit on flowers in sun colleting pollen in tandem
Emergency tasks help make sweet honey without burgle
Randomly all bees are at work and sweat red like a porter
Anytime honey will feed everyone and the queen alpha
When it’s night bees are sleepless for toiling hard plow
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
Gallant is the Eagle
Flying high towards the Sun
Keen with deadly sight
Viewing from heaven above
Take flight my spirit with you.
~~~~~~~~
Together we'll fly
Only landing to renew
In a tall Oak tree
No need to build an eyrie
For the sky is our domain.
~~~~~~~~~
On land and in sky
We are united as one
Until our last breath
A feathered quill in my hand
Imagination runs wild.
28~June~2017
Water Bill
Driving down from my eyrie – I only said this to
Sound educated- I thought that since there is no proof
Of god`s existence, I have been reflecting about the man
Or is it person- in charge of the rainbows.
I want to do something about it not always the same colours
5 I think and when you get to the point where it ends
It is a miasma of vanishing tinges.
An Iris should be firmer and sometimes yellow or red
Stick to the ground so children could climb on it not all day
But say, once a month.
At the bottom of the hill, I crossed a bridge it was dry and
Looked like the tiny bits Palestinians are allowed to live on
I remembered I had forgotten to pay the water bill and
Sometimes in the future there will be wars over water.
On thermals high a golden eagle flies
Such a stunning sight in our blue skies
In Scotland we can observe them there
But in Britain they are really really rare
Golden eagles in Scotland will remain
Their territory is their own domain
They grace the sky amid clouds so white
An eagle in flight is an awesome sight
They build their nest in remote places
Sadly predators are from human faces
A female will lay eggs, as many as three
High in an eyrie, right at the top of a tree
Swooping and calling the parents find food
For they need to feed their hungry brood
Often only one fledgling survives to fly
Nature can be cruel - the other chicks die
Contest: Golden Eagle
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
3rd October 2015
Eagle flying high, just a dot in the sky
I fly in to join you and circle with you
together we take delight in plummeting down
then climbing back up to float on thermals
The landscape below shows trees the size of matches
individual flowers too small to see just splashes
of many different hues blending into each other
the steady wind ruffles my feathers as I tease you
Playing and courting we bond once more
and set about setting our eyrie to rights
high up on the steep jagged cliff top
any danger spotted miles away from this vantage point
I take turns with you sitting on our eggs
then off to hunt I soar searching for my prey
there down there a fat young rabbit grazes
I swoop down and now dinner daintily I eat
Replete I retire to the tree tops
and spread my wings basking in the sun
life is good so very good
soon the cycle restarts with my chicks
written 01/23/2013
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