Wings poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best Wings poems ever written. Read all poems about Wings.
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth, while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens...
In a beautiful butterfly,
Your face comes so true to me.
Through a pretty butterfly
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
I had walked since dawn and lay down to rest on a bare hillside
Above the ocean. I saw through half-shut eyelids a vulture wheeling
high up in heaven,
And presently it passed again, but lower and nearer, its orbit
Their shadow dims the sunshine of our day,
As they go lumbering across the sky,
Squawking in joy of feeling safe on high,
Beating their heavy wings of owlish gray.
Speak not, to me, of mundane things,
The daily chores, which dull the mind,
But converse with a gentle voice that sings,
As if all the golden thoughts you find,
Two children (small), one Four, one Five,
Once saw a bee go in a hive,
They'd never seen a bee before!
So waited there to see some more.
What does little birdie say
In her nest at peep of day?
Let me fly, says little birdie,
Mother, let me fly away.
Glory be to God for dappled things --
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
By day the bat is cousin to the mouse.
He likes the attic of an aging house.
His fingers make a hat about his head.
as a child he never plucked the wings off flies
he didn't tie tin cans to cats' tails
or lock beetles in matchboxes
or stomp anthills
Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof
out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross
surveys the city's blue-grey clouds. Larry Rivers
'll come at 10 AM and take my picture. I'm taking
In the ancient days, when the first quiver of speech came to my lips, I ascended the holy mountain and spoke unto God,
Have you watched an eagle in flight?
On wings flayed, it looks a massive kite
It shoots into the heights with unlabored ease
Enjoying the kiss of passing breeze
Then said a teacher, 'Speak to us of Teaching.'
And he said:
I am restless. I am athirst for far-away things.
My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance.
THE trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
"Curiosity has feet to wander.
Awareness has hands to carry.
Discovery has wings to rise.
Pale blues and whites, puff and fluff spinning turning, my world is churning round round round. Falling faster, whistling, on my slender body, down down down. The sun burns through my feathery shimmer, burning burning burning. My wings are limp I cannot raise, my efforts are in vain. I see the trees forming below, blurry breeze blurry breeze. I swiftly fall I cannot stop the hot pain sears through me hot hot hot: wait, the sun is far above, too far too far to cause my pain, free falling out of control, down down down, the ground looms near I try to halt, try to spread my wings, oh my wings; oh my wings won't budge; the ground rises up so fast, so fast, I thump down jolted, on the earth! My blinking eyes, blink, blink, blink, as life drains from me slowly. blood spills from my beak, my beak while the sun beams down on my feathery down i die I die so meek.
Poems about Icarus
These are poems about Icarus, flying and flights of fancy...
In the world of sorrow, dreadful plight
The Wings of Fire took its flight.
"A great relief", said future. Sigh!
As it reached the sky and high.
He wore wings made of cardboard
Fidgeting, waiting to cross a busy freeway
Torn dirty jeans and a faded sports jersey
Rubbing his cracked hands together, perhaps he just got off work
Wings of is carried me through
I go any where l want to
It takes me here and there
I can go any where
by M. Eminescu (1850-1889)
A long time ago, when each of the sky's star,
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