First Flight
The eagle teetered on the ledge,
Its first flight dead ahead!
Surveying all, next to the edge,
Its young heart filled with dread!
But Nature whispered on the wind,
'Just take your time, my friend...'
And though the eagle's brain still spinned,
Its fears came to an end...
Then all at once, its heart was brave
And with one single bound,
It raised itself as if by faith,
Its wings above the ground!
And off it swooped, the maiden flight,
With courage fate decreed...
And gravity soon lost the fight
With thermals to succeed!
So up it flew the thermal swirl,
Cascading now and then...
Then onward, upward, twist and twirl,
Till coasting once again...
But, oh, the flying! That's first rate!
Although it feels so rash...
Of course, the landing's not that great,
First time it's with a crash!
To think, each eagle's forced to learn,
To wing-it, as it were...
And just like others, take its turn,
So miracles occur!
Who knows how high the eagles fly?
I'm jealous as can be!
But I'm no angel, just a guy...
I'll stick to poetry...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Eagle Watch
The morning came, the eagle stirred, one leap to fly again.
The tourists smiled to watch this bird, the envy of all men.
For who has not at one time slept and sometime in the night,
Believed that if they also leapt, they, too, could rise in flight?
Within one dream, atop a hill, I ran and ran and ran...
And all at once I felt the thrill when my first flight began!
I left the hill, I left the Earth, to glide upon the sky...
It was as if my soul gave birth to something that could fly!
No holding back, I had to hurl myself upon the wave!
Like Superman and Supergirl, I flew as if by faith!
I knew just how the eagle felt, designed for higher things...
A better hand I had been dealt, transforming hands to wings!
Each time I see an eagle soar to heights beyond my eyes,
I realise what dreams are for, to simply mesmerise.
Today, each pilot flies above, content to do his best...
Just like the eagle that I love... God help them to be blessed...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Eagle Watch'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Eagle Spirit
eagles soar
on high thermals
fly through
such wonderous
freeborn skies
a multiversality
kaleidoscopic
sensual
spiritual
ever changing
seasons
nest on highest
most noble
sun eclipsed
inaccessible crags
or vibrant
living temples
trees raising
towards heaven
growing upwards
into host life
giving light
range soar
across desolate
canyons
holy places
where Native
Americans
built pueblo
adobe houses
care houses
upon spiritual
sun paths...
piercingly
beautiful
sky images
celebrating
auras
earth heat
thermal
energy fields
keen eyes
pierce heat
waves
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
The four individual elements of this mosaic concept are also posted separately as the poem ‘Eagles Soar On High Thermals’, ‘Eagle Eyries’, ‘Eagle Flight’ and ‘Eagle Sight’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Eagle night
Eagle night and seen by sea
A distant call, in sonnet key
In any moment, place or time
A distant call is sent from high
Eagle night, i swear I’ve sawn
Eagle flight with salty winds
By the pinnacle of water and land
Where sea winds crash and struggle the sand
Call again, from a place that’s near
Always close, so one can hear
Or so can be thought the truth of such things
Resonate from eagle wings
Never foreboding the loss of a call
Never shorn for a sighting once more
The discontent of the mind is evaded
And all the wanting of life unladen
The call, one call, one sight, any wind
Reminds the heart of the sweetest thing
Deep remnants of a time unkempt
And narrowing from this lively nest
Illusioned by dreams of taste and touch
But grasped in song by night eagle clutch
poem by Julia Grandi
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An Old Eagle.
An Eagle Stands on the top of cliff,
Waiting for a way West Wind,
It stands so long in waiting,
Just for the wind to come.
The right wind comes,
This eagle feels so lonely to start flying,
It is ready to fly six thousand miles away,
How a long and lonely journey to go?
Suddenly it wants to give up a great dream.
How a great eagle will struggle on its way?
Why it did not do it earlier and younger?
The right wind passes vainly with no use.
The pitiful eagle is growing older and older.
What will be the next great job for this eagle?
Oh poor eagle, take it easy don’t look up so high.
You are not the new hero at nowadays.
Suddenly a way west wind blows pass,
that only brings you a loneliness.
poem by Albert Wong
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The Eagle wasn't always the Eagle. The Eagle, before he became the Eagle, was Yucatangee, the Talker. Yucatangee talked and talked. It talked so much it heard only itself. Not the river, not the wind, not even the Wolf. The Raven came and said The Wolf is hungry. If you stop talking, you'll hear him. The wind too. And when you hear the wind, you'll fly. So he stopped talking. And became its nature, the Eagle. The Eagle soared, and its flight said all it needed to say.
quote by Robin Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gravitational Defiance
Flying like an eagle
Every day of my life
Not like a chicken
Just to avoid strife
Defying gravity
Refusing to lose
Not by luck or chance
But because I Choose
I am bold and brave
Mounting in the sky
Ever Conquering
Until the day I die
Like an eagle
Fly eagle fly
poem by Howard Simon
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First I shall name the eagle, of which there are three species: the great grey eagle is the largest, of great strength and high flight; he chiefly preys on fawns and other young quadrupeds.
quote by William Bartram
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Even leaves beg me'' says Eagle
eagle, niggard and black
perched on sycomore on Nile bank
tasty fish gambolled in water
at lightening speed eagle caught
tasty fish and scrambled out
eagle flew and perched on a tree
man was under a tree
and glanced at what sat on tree
eagle and man eyes met at ninety angle
eagle flew away saying
''man may conjure him
by evil eyes''
eagle flew and perched on second tree
some birds were on that tree
Eagle and others birds eyes met at ninety angle
eagle flew away saying he
'' choke as birds watch him eating''
Eagle flew and perched on third tree
the breeze shook leaves of tree
eagle saw leaves unfolded shaking
like a begging hand
eagle flew away saying
'' everything beg me , even leaves
beg me too''
Eagle flew and perched on fourth withered tree
no birds, men and leaves around there
only exrtreme silence around there
eagle ate tasty fish
sang in loudest resounding voice
''eel fish and tasty fish are not the same
I ate tasyty fish until heart palpitated in happiness''
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Gethsemane Miracle!
Alone He walked for private prayer, disciples holding fast,
Christ's countenance that of despair, His hour had come at last.
Gethsemane was quiet now, as twilight there encroached,
As Christ's head bore a bloodied brow, temptation thus approached.
And there were whispers in His mind that matched His fearful heart,
Perhaps the Cross of Christ to find, perhaps chance to depart.
Was there still hope? Or some way out? Was there escape for Him?
Or was there now no single doubt, God's cup filled to the brim?
Lord Jesus prayed as trembling hands conveyed His weakened state,
Obedience to God's commands or some new twist of fate?
Three times to pray the cup might pass, in case God chose this path,
Three times and each with mercy scarce, one choice, Christ's epitaph.
And then an angel there appeared to strengthen Christ with faith,
Convincing Him that though death neared, Christ only Man could save.
For that one angel, give God praise, he helped the Lord stay true,
For blessed is He who still obeys and sees salvation through.
Who knows what words were said that night as Jesus stood His ground?
For courage came instead of fright, with God's grace all around.
And though disciples slept nearby, fatigued by all they'd done,
The Saviour's faith was flying high, like eagles 'neath the sun.
He groaned that they no angel saw, that blessing they had missed!
Then came the traitor to the fore and he, Christ's cheek had kissed.
The hour here, the Lord stood still, no coward soul was He,
Because He climbed up Calvary's hill, the rest is history.
The time will come, when each is called to give the Lord account,
Of each word spoken, typed or scrawled, of great and small amount.
Yet if we saw an angel here, like Jesus did that time,
Perhaps we'd find bold faith not fear and lives would be sublime.
Behind the scenes, a war is waged, as good and evil fight,
If evil makes you so enraged, then fight with all your might.
To think, that angels visit Earth, to think that one helped Christ.
And though unnamed, each one has worth, more than we've realised...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital 581
as well as the WATCH NOW link on
the revelationtv-dot-com website...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Eagle's song
Flying high in the sky, soaring
very high. High as an eagle
Yet only in my mind's eye.
Not giving up, yet continuing,
to try.
Gliding, through the gusty wind.
Until wings and the wind somehow blends together, as an acoustic, melodic strum, and births a song.
A gentle, distinct sound.
Is this the purpose?
A reason to the why,
Pressing through the storm, head lifted high
Eyes finally to see the sun piercing
behind the clouds. The eagle soars.
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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An Eagle's Life
An Eagle soars high above,
Skimming seas, lakes and cove,
Piercing, sharp, an Eagle's eye,
Swooping down, did spy,
Swimming trout en route,
Mother Nature's food.
She swooped down and without a doubt,
The majestic eagle has just caught a trout.
With one swipe, her claw did grab,
A fleshy trout, hardly a flap.
5. Breakfast with Eagles
Tall mountains in a morning mist
Where snow fits like a cap
Craggy rocks hold icicles
That thaw before they snap
An eerie roost stood empty
Its owners both took flight
Out on a hunting party
After resting through the night
The warm air from the thermals
Gave wind beneath their wings
It lifts them higher easily
They swirl around in rings
Their eyes forever searching
A head kept fully still
Watching for a movement
To make their next big kill
With swept back wings an eagle dives
Hits quarry with a splat
Then two smart golden eagles
Have their breakfast with a rat
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Thinking Of You
Have you ever stood outside a picket fence
You could see through but you can't get to the inside
You sit there and wait
I look at you and anticipate
What we could be and what we could do
Fly the wings of an eagle
Glide along with the wind
No matter how high
I'll be thinking of you the whole time
Fly with wings of an eagle
Glide along with the wind
No matter how high
I'll be thinking of you the whole time
I'm carrying this heavy load
I don't know what to do
The only thing I know is that
I'm in love with you Oh
Fly the wings of an eagle
No matter how high
I'll be thinkin' of you
(Repeat Chorus)
No matter how high
No matter how low
I'll be thinking of you
No matter what I do
No matter where I go
I'll be thinking of you
(Repeat)
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Eagle Cries
Another day, just like any other
out of the blue, it turned to horror
How could they? Why would they?
The innocents suffered hell's inferno
An senseless act that goes unforgotten
How could they? They will pay.
(Chorus)
When the Eagle Cries (5x)
Out of the ashes came a tempted vengeance,
but we are focused, we seek redemption
we are free, we'll stay free
All they've done, is make us stronger
The sleeping giant, is asleep no longer
If need be, we'll die free
(Chorus)
When the Eagle Cries (blood will flow)
When the Eagle Cries (for freedom's fight)
When the Eagle Cries (we love us all)
When the Eagle Cries (we'll sacrifice)
When the Eagle Cries
When the Eagle Cries (blood will flow)
When the Eagle Cries they made us stronger (for freedoms fight)
When the Eagle Cries we'll sacrifice (we love us all)
When the Eagle Cries for freedom's fight (we'll sacrifice)
When the Eagle Cries
song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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American Bald Eagle
American bald eagle
The American eagle took to flight
Soared into the valley, with its wings of might.
An endangered species it became in 1973
To protect the heritage of you and me.
On our currency and in our hearts
Of the united states it has become a big part.
With a wing span of 79 to 90
And a body length of 35 to 37
And a neck and tail as white as snow
This is something that many don’t know.
The beauty of this bird so rare
Is something that we’re proud to share.
They have been here even before
The birth of the united states
And this is what makes them great
For they survived from the
Destruction of man
And taught us how to take a stand.
So to the American eagle we honor you
In everything that we say and do.
Keep us standing tall and proud
For throughout this world
You do get around.
poem by Louis Rams
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American Bald Eagle
American bald eagle
The American eagle took to flight
Soared into the valley, with its wings of might.
An endangered species it became in 1973
To protect the heritage of you and me.
On our currency and in our hearts
Of the united states it has become a big part.
With a wing span of 79 to 90
And a body length of 35 to 37
And a neck and tail as white as snow
This is something that many don’t know.
The beauty of this bird so rare
Is something that we’re proud to share.
They have been here even before
The birth of the united states
And this is what makes them great
For they survived from the
Destruction of man
And taught us how to take a stand.
So to the American eagle we honor you
In everything that we say and do.
Keep us standing tall and proud
For throughout this world
You do get around.
poem by Louis Rams
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Magnificent Eagles
I'd like to share
these magnificent pair.
Black eagles, mid-air
in battle,
One eagle's about to tackle,
Wings spread, sharp talons dread.
Tears up the skies, an eagle dies,
on mountains highs.
Victor flies, to a new sunrise.
A War Song Of Tyrol
'WILD eagle of the Tyrol,
Why are thy feathers red?'
'I 've been to greet the morning
On Ortler's crimsoned head!'
'Gray eagle of the Tyrol,
'T is not the morning light
Drips from the soaring pinions
That wing thine airy flight.
'Proud eagle of the Tyrol,
Why are thy claws so red?'
'I 've been where Etschland's maidens
The ruddy vintage tread.'
'Gray eagle of the Tyrol,
Red runs our Tyrol wine;
But redder ran the vintage
That stained those claws of thine.
'Wild eagle of the Tyrol,
Why is thy beak so red?'
'Go ask the gorge of Stilfes,
Where lie the Saxon dead!
'The grapes were ripe in August
Wherewith my beak is red;
The vines that gave that vintage
No other wine will shed:
My beak is red with battle;
I've been among the dead!'
poem by Silas Weir Mitchell
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Wamblee
High up on a rocky crag,
Wamblee, near to the cliff edge
sat cross legged in a circle on the ground
calling softly to the four winds.
His long plaits, threaded with silver
lay beneath feathers running down his back.
Far below him the canyon stretched out
dusty and red hot.
As the hypnotic chant of his words
caught the warm air riding the canyon top
his heart took flight
soaring above the high dusty plain.
Born on the wind,
his eagle wings outstretched
he sailed aloft snow covered mountains
glinting in the light of Grandfather Sun.
South through deep valleys,
lush with green and wonder,
feeling the rhythm of the world
beneath his feathers.
Across the turbulent southern ocean
full of the whale's song,
eastward across the great African Plain,
northward towards the Northern lights.
Onward and upward
feeling the firmament and the dawn of stars
he flew between darkness and light.
There, in that sacred space between
the creator and the created
Wamblee saw with clear vision
the beauty of the Great Spirit
laid out before him in the earth below
and the heavens above.
poem by Diana Rosser
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The Eagle and The Bear
The eagle's strength to compare that
of the bear this is how they fair the bear
can rip apart anything standing there
yet the eagle can fly through the air
the mighty physical strength of the bear must
stay on the ground in a limited area
around yet the eagle's strength of us do share
it's in every heart and on something's we wear
it shows the strength of the eagle for all to share
the eagle and the bear.
poem by David J. Pipkin
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