The eagle smiles sharply
Smartly
He knows my need of gently stroked wings
Amidst shift shaping rocks
I am barely a translucent bubble
Blown through a Childs hoop
Wavering and lost in just one
Solitary breath
He may pierce me with his arrogant beak
May find me invisible within herringbone clouds
Yet still
I exist
I am here, I am her
I know that to be true
Due to
A pulse, due to a whimsical thought
And an ever hopeful will...
Ah to fly a mile in another birds' feathers. Myth, fantasy and musings merge in those uplifted, soaring wings. Good stuff.
Lovely visions here, very thought provoking and concentrating on the feeling, a great verse, thanks
Karen- Thanks for your comment, it led me to your work! I love this... great form and excellent imagery, with a healthy push for the core of being. Outstanding poem. Take good care... Frank
I also love eagles therefore the thought that another free spirit might bite me never occurred to me
A very nice piece of work. Thanks for sharing it with us. E.K.L.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hmmm...hope, it never dies....well written, , very beautiful