The Caged Eagle
. . . I went the other day
To see the birds and beasts they keep enmewed
In the London Zoo. One of the first I saw —
One of the first I noticed, was an Eagle,
Ragged, befouled, within his iron bars
He sat without a movement or a sound,
And, when I stood and pitying looked at him,
I saw his great sad eyes that winkless gazed
Out to the horizon sky. I passed from there,
And walked about the gardens hither and thither,
Till all the afternoon was spent. Returning then
To seek my home, again by chance I passed
The Eagle's cage, and stood again and looked,
And saw his great sad eyes that winkless gazed
Out to the horizon sky. So I went home. . . .
The Eagle is Ireland.
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Eagle And The Man...
like an eagle one soars and tries
to scuttle for an island where it may nest
and lay its eggs
hoping for the cliffs and
some sticks and trunks of deadwood
wandering if there is
a monkey for dinner to start with
none so far attracts the beginning
of greatness
there is no height and there is no
sound for prey
the eagle wanders dissolving in
a far horizon
the man stays foot under the big tree
envious of the searching trip
unable to dissolve itself in his
chosen horizon
in his world of fences and walls
safe and yet so unhappy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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The Vision
From its station
with great span
of wings outspread.
I watched the eagle.
Yet saw not
that monarch of the blue.
Instead a vision
so profound unfold.
Radiating from behind
a shimmering glow.
Golden silvery light
poured forth.
From within emerged
a figure in brilliant white.
Still the two
remained as one.
Features
mountain strong.
But gentle soft
as a feather's touch.
Eyes dark intense
all seeing yet warm.
wise and understanding.
Ever forgiving.
Those outstretched wings
now open arms.
Beckoning
calling out to all.
Temperate but mighty
a voice spoke out.
'When you fear reach for me.
I am your shield and strength.'
I looked away then back.
My vision had passed.
As though
it had never been.
Standing proud and strong
the eagle remained.
It seemed to say.
'In me see always Him.'
(09SEP01)
poem by Kurt Hearth
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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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The Drummer Boy
A drummer boy dressed in white tapped his drum as he passed by my bed,
he never looked at me, and not a word was said.
Tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, was his marching beat.
There was blood from a wound, but he kept to his feet.
As he marched back and forth it looked as though he was going to fall,
but he continued to beat his drum, as he walked through the wall.
On his departure the sound of a bugle was heard above the drum,
whistling rifle shots and cannon fire added to the battle’s hum.
A boy dressed in red and white, blowing a bugle marched passed my bed,
he had suffered a wound, and blood was flowing from his head.
Blowing with all his might I could see the determination on his face,
he seemed to be running out of breath, as he slowly lost the pace.
The drummer boy came up beside him and marched by his side,
the bugle boy stood up straight, and blew the charge as he cried.
Another drummer boy passed my bed followed by two more,
the bugle boy stood and looked ahead, and then fell to the floor.
Several soldiers charged pass, with bayonets fixed for attack,
passing the drummer boy one yelled, “Keep playing and don’t look back.”
With the sound of bullets in the air and shells exploding all around
soldiers charged and fell by my bed to the now distant drumming sound.
It suddenly all went quiet as everyone disappeared through the wall,
except for the drummer boy who played as he stood tall.
Tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum; a much softer beat,
he then looked at me with tears in his eyes, as he faded at my feet.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Part Of The Machine
Everybodys jumping on the circus train.
Some jump high, some jump off again.
And the razzmatazz is rolling, women folk unveiled.
All truths to light, all crosses nailed.
Aiming high where the eagle circles ---
Where he keeps his tail feathers clean.
And wonders ''am I still a free bird?
Or just a part of the machine.
They hitch their coverd wagons and they roll out west.
Politics in the pockets of their sunday best.
Shaking hands, kissing babies, for all that theyre worth.
Oh, they promise you gold, promise heaven on earth.
Still, that old bald eagle circles ---
Its not the first time that hes seen
His reflection in the eyes of innocence.
Hes become just another
Part of the machine.
I wish I had an eagle like you ---
To look up to.
He could be my wings to fly in a big bird sky
Up above the whole machine.
Smart guys arent running --- theyre home and dry.
Up in the mountains where the eagle flies.
They wouldnt take that job
Offered on a plate.
They got to fly with the eagle, and he wont wait.
Looking down on the smoke and the factories
Till the truth creeps up unseen.
They see themselves in the faces of their children
And realize they too are
Part of the machine.
I wish I had an eagle like you ---
To wake up to.
He could be my wings to fly
In a big bird sky, hey ---
Lets be part of the machine.
Part of the machine.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Links
The little and the great are joined in one
By God's great force. The wondrous golden sun
Is linked unto the glow-worm's tiny spark;
The eagle soars to heaven in his flight;
And in those realms of space, all bathed in light,
Soar none except the eagle and the lark.
poem by Emma Lazarus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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Golden Eagle
In the bottom of an old greasy swamp, lies a golden eagle, it's shine now covered in grime.
It lies here, forgotten witness of the brave few who dare to venture where none ever do.
This golden eagle, doth many scars bear, tis many grooves where swords did tear.
Came they from a terrible fight, on a cold blustery day, where the hope of an army was blown away.
Hundreds of weary hungry men, tramping through unfamiliar ground, when in the midst of an ambush they were found.
These weary men, they were tired and cold. They raised the swords, though outnumbered, they were bold.
As the barbarians tore through their withering lines, and as their screaming comrades were consumed by fire,
They gripped the swords, and bid their families farewell, stood back to back, as the enemy did into their columns hack.
In the midst of this carnage, floated the golden eagle, symbol of their hope, their integrity, dream, and goal.
Round the eagle, they now stood, desperately outnumbered by an enemy their distant commanders had misunderstood.
They gave no quarter, expected none. Rallied round that golden eagle, and held together as one.
That eagle, it witnessed the havoc that they made as the enemy in cascades came.
It saw their courage in the face of death. The things they gave when they had nothing left.
It saw the lions rise from their sleep, the final blaze of glory, the heroics that make us weep.
Though all hope was lost, they still fought on like it was there, the golden eagle the focus of their care.
Till finally, the last man had fallen. With his last breath threw the man the eagle into the water.
Never would it fall into enemy hands, it would be the silent witness of these fallen men.
Though defeated, yet they fought on. Though hope was gone, still they fought on and on.
Their dream they never let die, heros they died, heroes for which the people would cry.
Golden eagle, doesn't alway mean victory. But the golden eagle, will never give in.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LVII
ON A LOST OPPORTUNITY
We might, if you had willed, have conquered Heaven.
Once only in our lives before the gate
Of Paradise we stood, one fortunate even,
And gazed in sudden rapture through the grate.
And, while you stood astonished, I, our fate
Venturing, pushed the latch and found it free.
There stood the tree of knowledge fair and great
Beside the tree of life. One instant we
Stood in that happy garden, guardianless.
My hands already turned towards the tree
And in another moment we had known
The taste of joy and immortality
And been ourselves as gods. But in distress
You thrust me back with supplicating arms
And eyes of terror, till the impatient sun
Had time to set and till the heavenly host
Rushed forth on us with clarions and alarms
And cast us out for ever, blind and lost.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer 62 And You
That’s the last of school
for a while
she said
as you both descended
the school bus
and walked home
with her sister and yours
walking a small distance behind
any chance you could meet me later?
you asked
have to see
if Mother wants me
to do chores
she replied
maybe after?
you asked
she sighed
and looked up
at the late
afternoon sky
you caught her profile
and the way her cheek
was so kissable
and yet you didn’t
you just stared
have to see
won’t we
don’t want her
getting in one
of her moods
you walked on
in silence awhile
then she said
maybe able
to sneak out tomorrow
and see you
by the old pond
and you smiled
and you said
sure that’d be nice
but no funny business
she said
looking you
in the eyes
as if I would
you said
well Mother thinks you would
she muttered
looking away
so that her eyes
captured the horizon
and held it there
and you said
frankly Sweetie
I don’t give a dam or care
and she smiled and said
oh so very Clark Gable
and you both laughed
and she grabbed
your hand
and whispered
she just don’t understand.
poem by Terry Collett
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Error And Loss
Upon an eve I sat me down and wept,
Because the world to me seemed nowise good;
Still autumn was it, & the meadows slept,
The misty hills dreamed, and the silent wood
Seemed listening to the sorrow of my mood:
I knew not if the earth with me did grieve,
Or if it mocked my grief that bitter eve.
Then ’twixt my tears a maiden did I see,
Who drew anigh me on the leaf-strewn grass,
Then stood and gazed upon me pitifully
With grief-worn eyes, until my woe did pass
From me to her, and tearless now I was,
And she mid tears was asking me of one
She long had sought unaided and alone.
I knew not of him, and she turned away
Into the dark wood, and my own great pain
Still held me there, till dark had slain the day,
And perished at the grey dawn’s hand again;
Then from the wood a voice cried: “Ah, in vain,
In vain I seek thee, O thou bitter-sweet!
In what lone land are set thy longed-for feet?”
Then I looked up, and lo, a man there came
From midst the trees, and stood regarding me
Until my tears were dried for very shame;
Then he cried out: “O mourner, where is she
Whom I have sought o’er every land and sea?
I love her and she loveth me, and still
We meet no more than green hill meeteth hill.”
With that he passed on sadly, and I knew
That these had met and missed in the dark night,
Blinded by blindness of the world untrue,
That hideth love and maketh wrong of right.
Then midst my pity for their lost delight,
Yet more with barren longing I grew weak,
Yet more I mourned that I had none to seek.
poem by William Morris
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Riding in advance, we passed over one of these great plains; we looked back and saw the line of scattered horsemen stretching for a mile or more; and far in the rear against the horizon, the white wagons creeping slowly along.
quote by Francis Parkman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Solsbury Hill
Climbing up on Solsbury Hill
I could see the city light
Wind was blowing, time stood still
Eagle flew out of the night
He was something to observe
Came in close, I heard a voice
Standing stretching every nerve
I had to listen had no choice
I did not believe the information
Just had to trust imagination
My heart was going boom boom, boom
"Son," he said, "Grab your things, I've come to take you home."
To keeping silence I resigned
My friends would think I was a nut
Turning water into wine
Open doors would soon be shut
So I went from day to day
Tho' my life was in a rut
'Till I thought of what I'd say
Which connection I should cut
I was feeling part of the scenery
I walked right out of the machinery
My heart was going boom boom boom
"Hey," he said, "grab your things, I've come to take you home."
Yeah back home
When illusion spin her net
I'm never where I want to be
And liberty she pirouette
When I think that I am free
Watched by empty silhouettes
Who close their eyes, but still can see
No one taught them etiquette
I will show another me
Today I don't need a replacement
I'll tell them what the smile on my face meant
My heart was going boom boom boom
"Hey," I said, "You can keep my things, they've come to take me home.
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pollution and Climate Change
First, of nature's course, it was the birds;
for theirs the air, above and over all;
knowing by intuition without need of words
as providential, seasoned, sure
as sparrow's fall;
and knowing too
how much to trust to men
who do not even trust each other.
It was, of nature's course, the snowy eagle
entrusted with the task:
the only bird who may look straight into the sun; and thus
to whom that message might be given, to ask,
to pass on to his lord; the only bird
whose plumage may reflect the sun's majestic rays,
and live; perhaps to bring a message back.
As to the message - was it just a sprig
of leaves from tallest tree - polluted, withered, black as crow?
or was it something inner in the words
as spoken on the flight from wintry sun to warmth, or
warmth to Northern spring?
They watched, the conference of the silent birds,
while snowy eagle, like the teepee's early morning smoke,
ascended higher, higher, into the sun's great eye,
which never man - eagle alone - may see;
and... do birds hope?
Or as the twilight falls upon the earth, accept
that what shall be, shall be?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Important Birds
Important findings have been made,
Disorders are realised for the people.
Geese shall sound in the skies
To enlighten a few who listen.
Many times a day, the sounds of birds
Arrive and shake the disorder.
An albatross hurts me further,
An eagle has no home here, but further.
Let importance be the guide not the wind,
For wind is reluctant in the eyes of us.
The sky has abandoned the birds at night,
Or have the birds abandoned the night-sky?
Geese and swans are beautiful birds,
But where are all the seagulls?
poem by Naveed Akram
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