On the fly
at the office
busy about business
I eat a wing
Poems on the topic: wing
Poems on the topic “wing” on Poets.by.
* * *
a wasp on foot
the nervous trembling
of her wings
Evolution
A circling crow
turns into a hawk
as it clears the trees
with their bare-boned
parceling of the light. And then
those upswept wings—
primaries splayed like hands
open to the ground—
can only be vulture.
The Legacy of Icarus
you knew exactly what you were doing
when you flew
into the blazing sun that would
melt your wings
and throw you into an unforgiving sea.
that's what hurts the most.
you knew exactly what you were doing
when you left me
behind to meet your demise.
she
One minute I laugh,
Another I cry..
I'm changing colours,
Like a disco light..
I'm not right,
I'm all wrong..
But I've been hurt,
So I'm singing this song..
You don't know me,
You will never find,
No chords attached,
That's how I like it.
I'm a fairy, with no wings
I'm flying in my sleep
You think I'm crazy,
You are thinking alright.
Flaming thoughts
Be cruel to me,
I'll make my heart kind.
Make me fall again,
I'll get up to rise.
Take away my freedom,
I'll free my soul.
Set the evil traps,
I'll make myself bold.
Cut my wings,
I'll fly on my visions.
You think you're killing a bird
But I'm a raging Dragon
* * *
under falling water
lies a bird
with a broken wing.
near a lake
that is blue
from a sky
that is blue.
on a green bed
it flops
& seeks the source
of the rain;
into the rain
it flops
seeking the source.
other birds
pay no attention
Free
some days are better than others
some are filled with sunshine
and others are filled with darkness
but on my darkest days
I think...
one day I'll be free
I'll spread my wings, fly away
and never look back again
but that day is not today
Sun Warms the Wings
Sun warms the wings
after flying near the jail
crimson razor wire.
Seventy-Eight
A meadowlark
guarded her eggs,
practicing on me
the ruse of
a broken wing.
I have guarded
my wounds from you
twenty years
the same way.
Fossil of a Wing
News: a signature of flight
stays imprinted on blue-black strata
in Earth’s uncertain crust.
(The body vanished long ago.)
The British, desperate like
everyone for fuel, mining in
the vicinity of Hell, uncovered
this icon of wing, which dates
from when flight went
unnamed in air. We glance
at accounts concerning
“the fossilized wing of
Earth’s first flying thing.”
Shall we congratulate
this synecdoche of dragonfly
set deep in Derbyshire coal?
Wisdom
When I have ceased to break my wings
Against the faultiness of things,
And learned that compromises wait
Behind each hardly opened gate,
When I can look Life in the eyes,
Grown calm and very coldly wise,
Life will have given me the Truth,
And taken in exchange--my youth.
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