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Christopher Nicoll Poems
The eagle soars in its majestic flight Surveying its kingdom from a glorious height. Roaming, seeking, searching for That which he has not found before
The moonlight glow fades With the rays of the new morning sun The forest from darkness to glowing green
The smell of dawn, that crisp clean feeling Waking life, beginning, breathing The dewdrop rolls from fern and tree
Alone, sitting, gazing into the fireplace in his cabin in the woods A discontented man with a forlorn vacant look What thoughts are contained within his solitary life While he warms in his cold harsh winter respite.
The Silent Sentinel
For eons passed he has seen all Oh what tales he could have told Since ancient time antiquity
Comments about Christopher Nicoll
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The eagle soars in its majestic flight
Surveying its kingdom from a glorious height.
Roaming, seeking, searching for
That which he has not found before
That ephemeral sense, that fleeting feeling.
The reverie is broken, the quarry has been found,
An innocent little hare bounding on the ground.
He rolls his body vertically down,
In the stoop, his wings tucked all around.
The natural feather missile, makes the air scream out,
In an instant, he strikes as he levels out.
The kill has been made
The prize in his claws displayed
The thrill is over, ...