Like Pigeons
By the fountain of looming glory
Where the sun kissed the perching water
And the wind opt scents of potpourri
Amidst, winged pebbles futilely spatter
Like frenzied gargoyles draped in downy.
Stationary pigeons of gray and white
Gyrating tally of ubiquitous palpable flock
Nonchalant of the growing breadth of plight;
Blasé of the weary ticks of a spiraling clock:
Brethren of idiosyncratic ignorance in flight
Beseeching dour and muffled coos
Replete with the pathetic volition
Winged harlequins in parks and flues
Anguish beneath the wings of abomination
Fly like bullets! Fly through the fringe of blue!
Leave, and grow wings that can fluster
In the beaming light it shall project
Greens and blues and all it can muster
The innuendo no one can ever reject
The coup of freedom that you have garnered.
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
Paradise: In A Symbol
Golden-winged, silver-winged,
Winged with flashing flame,
Such a flight of birds I saw,
Birds without a name:
Singing songs in their own tongue
(Song of songs) they came.
One to another calling,
Each answering each,
One to another calling
In their proper speech:
High above my head they wheeled,
Far out of reach.
On wings of flame they went and came
With a cadenced clang,
Their silver wings tinkled,
Their golden wings rang,
The wind it whistled through their wings
Where in Heaven they sang.
They flashed and they darted
Awhile before mine eyes,
Mounting, mounting, mounting still
In haste to scale the skies—
Birds without a nest on earth,
Birds of Paradise.
Where the moon riseth not,
Nor sun seeks the west,
There to sing their glory
Which they sing at rest,
There to sing their love-song
When they sing their best:
Not in any garden
That mortal foot hath trod,
Not in any flowering tree
That springs from earthly sod,
But in the garden where they dwell,
The Paradise of God.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Featherless wings
last night i dream that i was walking in the clouds, huge
heavenly petals like pebbles wash away my tears, a moist
of silver blue drifted my pink cheek; cool, smooth and soft
as i feel it, clear as the ocean wave and beautiful as rainbow
when the sun scatter its radiant ray where i seat in the
cumulus formation of clouds beneath my feet
in a glance, speed like light passing through my eye, blinking
without control while my nose seems white as a snow failed
to breathe the air, choking with my eye staring above my head,
thinking that this might be the end, as the naked eye said adieu
death comes like a thief of the night, then i have to go, but in a
sudden moment i notice that iam not alone in the wilderness of
beautiful clouds, their are humanoid form of being floating
waving, cheering, singing sweet melody of song, and calling
many name, whispering me not to be lonely; it’s the clouds that
made us to hope, it’s the song that give us the feather to fly and
it’s the dream that leads us go, to a place, we almost have to
know
waiting for a day of night and day, seems no end, not a single
feather grown in my body cause me pain, bother and confuse
leads my way to pray, that in my featherless wings i can reach
the sky; fly my featherless wings fly up, up to the heaven above,
guide my dream in your own destiny, a place where my soul will
be happy, stay with me winged angels, featherless wings has to
fly high with you in the heaven above
oh! dream show me the way my featherless wings have something
to say, please listen my winged angels and hear my
featherless voice.......
“angels wings is made not of feather, it’s a deep faith of their
loyalty to God, tangible and form like wings”
poem by Antonio Liao
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The Poet To His Love
ALL the flight of thoughts here, shy, bold, scared, intrusive,
Fluttering in the sun, between the green and blue,
Wheeling, whirling, poising, lovely and elusive,
How to cage the flying thoughts, my winged delight, for you?
Set a springe of rhyme, and hope to catch them in it?
Strew my love as grain to lure them to the snare?
Watch the hours built up, slow minute piled on minute?
Still the wide sky guards their flight, and still the cage is bare.
Gleam of hovering feathers, brushing me to flout me!
Wings, be weary! Rest! Who loves you more than I?
Caught? Oh fluttering pinions whitening air about me!
Rustling wings, and distant flight, and empty cage and sky!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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For Dolly -- Who Does Not Learn Her Lessons
You see the fairies dancing in the fountain,
Laughing, leaping, sparkling with the spray;
You see the gnomes, at work beneath the mountain,
Make gold and silver and diamonds every day;
You see the angels, sliding down the moonbeams,
Bring white dreams like sheaves of lilies fair;
You see the imps, scarce seen against the moonbeams,
Rise from the bonfire's blue and liquid air.
All the enchantment, all the magic there is
Hid in trees and blossoms, to you is plain and true.
Dewdrops in lupin leaves are jewels for the fairies;
Every flower that blows is a miracle for you.
Air, earth, water, fire, spread their splendid wares for you.
Millions of magics beseech your little looks;
Every soul your winged soul meets, loves you and cares for you.
Ah! why must we clip those wings and dim those eyes with books?
Soon, soon enough the magic lights grow dimmer,
Marsh mists arise to cloud the radiant sky,
Dust of hard highways will veil the starry glimmer,
Tired hands will lay the folded magic by.
Storm winds will blow through those enchanted closes,
Fairies be crushed where weed and briar grow strong . . .
Leave her her crown of magic stars and roses,
Leave her her kingdom--she will not keep it long!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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My light winged angel (leslie Alexis)
My light winged angel guided me
through the torment or another being
He made me see
My 'loved one'
did not love me
He cared and he listened
he did not hesitate
when i told my situation
He sat and siad
'listen anouk'
' Abuse is how they get control'
'You must leave him'
'You must get help'
well my angel
I now see
what you were always trying to tell me
You took me under your wing
and made me understand
That real love was not going to be with this man
My light wing angel
you saved my life
And to you I would give
every sacrifice
My light winged angel
I love you so
My light winged angel you do not know
How much you did
and saved my life
I sat there still
doing nothing but crying
and thinking....'Thank-You'......
And this my light winged angel
is what you did for me
you saved my life
and took me in
My light winged angel
I cannot say
how much I owe today
for your kindness
and this I must say
I love you
My light winged angel
Friends forever
and today
(hehehehehe Thank you leslie sooooo soooo sooooo very much, you are a true and dear friend, and forever, I hope we will always be)
poem by Amy Ormonde
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Silent Lover
Like a downy winged owl’s flight
She silently glides into my sleep
We make love ‘til morning’s light
I then awaken, and begin to weep
(ROTMS)
poem by Ray Lucero
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Realize My Mind
I wake in the morning to the darkness of my soul
Look into your eyes and my body senses the fire below
Move myself close to you and lay upon your breast
Reach up and light your long black cigarette
My winged angel your embrace surrounds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel your touch binds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel cast your spell on me
You realize my mind
My winged angel give myself to you
You have all of me
You move smooth, dance slow I feel your dark tenderness
Wings around me, mesmerize me love to serve my hearts temptress
Feeling free touching you, you accept your little pet
You have a walk so bold and I know
Your eyes burn me to death
My winged angel your embrace surrounds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel your touch binds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel cast your spell on me
You realize my mind
My winged angel give myself to you
You have all of me
I give my words to you to please you each and everyway
They spring forth from truths you release within me with the games you play
This girl is grateful to be so uninhibited and free for you
This girl knows girl is so happy to serve you
My winged angel your embrace surrounds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel your touch binds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel cast your spell on me
You realize my mind
My winged angel give myself to you
You have all of me
poem by Barbara Vanier
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The House Of Dust: Part 02: 05: Retrospect
Round white clouds roll slowly above the housetops,
Over the clear red roofs they flow and pass.
A flock of pigeons rises with blue wings flashing,
Rises with whistle of wings, hovers an instant,
And settles slowly again on the tarnished grass.
And one old man looks down from a dusty window
And sees the pigeons circling about the fountain
And desires once more to walk among those trees.
Lovers walk in the noontime by that fountain.
Pigeons dip their beaks to drink from the water.
And soon the pond must freeze.
The light wind blows to his ears a sound of laughter,
Young men shuffle their feet, loaf in the sunlight;
A girl's laugh rings like a silver bell.
But clearer than all these sounds is a sound he hears
More in his secret heart than in his ears,—
A hammer's steady crescendo, like a knell.
He hears the snarl of pineboards under the plane,
The rhythmic saw, and then the hammer again,—
Playing with delicate strokes that sombre scale . . .
And the fountain dwindles, the sunlight seems to pale.
Time is a dream, he thinks, a destroying dream;
It lays great cities in dust, it fills the seas;
It covers the face of beauty, and tumbles walls.
Where was the woman he loved? Where was his youth?
Where was the dream that burned his brain like fire?
Even a dream grows grey at last and falls.
He opened his book once more, beside the window,
And read the printed words upon that page.
The sunlight touched his hand; his eyes moved slowly,
The quiet words enchanted time and age.
'Death is never an ending, death is a change;
Death is beautiful, for death is strange;
Death is one dream out of another flowing;
Death is a chorded music, softly going
By sweet transition from key to richer key.
Death is a meeting place of sea and sea.'
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The Magic Of The Green And Blues
The magic of the green and blues, a view
Turtle doves in flight in purple night, they flew
Tragic plight a fight, now imagine me its true
Green and blue, blue and green
No matter to you but to me
The blue is woe and envy is green
It has to be, this way it seems, to me
Did I fall, commit a crime or lie, no
But miss misery makes my eyes glow
Through the blues and greens
A future is foreseen, by my eyes but for me
I stand tall above you all and truth I see
The magic of the green and blues, a view
Turtle doves in flight in purple night, they flew
Tragic plight a fight, now imagine me its true
Green is me and blue miss misery
She the only one to have a hold of me,
Unhappy together but with clarity forever
poem by Daniel Richards
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A Winter Ride
Who shall declare the joy of the running!
Who shall tell of the pleasures of flight!
Springing and spurning the tufts of wild heather,
Sweeping, wide-winged, through the blue dome of light.
Everything mortal has moments immortal,
Swift and God-gifted, immeasurably bright.
So with the stretch of the white road before me,
Shining snowcrystals rainbowed by the sun,
Fields that are white, stained with long, cool, blue shadows,
Strong with the strength of my horse as we run.
Joy in the touch of the wind and the sunlight!
Joy! With the vigorous earth I am one.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Waiting In The Wings
(andy hill/pete sinfield)
I need you like freedom
I feel you like rain
I see you like silver rails across an endless plain
And I know there are moments
You feel as I do
Thats why Im waiting for you
This time around I wont push for an answer
Both of us need to be sure
To be strong
When the moment comes
Ill be your dancer
Ill be your singer
And your song
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
Waiting in the wings
A natural dreamer
A maverick soul
How close can I be to you
And still not lose control?
And as close as the ocean
As near as the sky
As near as the tears I dont cry
Maybe a fool has been drowned in a vision
Hung up to dry in the teeth of the wind
Believing in the truth of your decisions
Thats all there is until the end
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting. Ill be waiting
Waiting in the wings
Ill be waiting
Ill be waiting
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flight
When the sacred kingfisher is flying,
It is frantically flapping its wings to
The sand of the sea,
In a form of a deep curve as a rainbow.
Its flight is most like a deep, steady wing beat
To fly higher and higher.
Its wing seemingly bites the air.
So skilled at flying
Is the sacred kingfisher
And so naturally suited to the sky
That it can frantically flap its wings to
The sand of the sea.
In a form of a deep curve as a rainbow.
From that deep curve comes its screaming
And the white bleeding rain,
While the bird is frantically flapping its wings to
The sea water
To eat its silent prey
And to become a broken winged bird,
That cannot fly
Any longer.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Elm Winged Keys Fall
Elm winged keys fall
Bounce off leaves
Cleave air, cover concrete
Attempt another flight
When edged on by starling wings.
poem by David E. Patton
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Water
Casuarina! I miss you a lot.
Why don’t you reclaim this drab century
by your drooping branches,
off from the poetry of water?
The words are dried up.
No rustling sounds, the winged
creatures broke the mirrors,
a black moon.
I am walking without legs
in the sea of encounters.
The headless groom was searching his bride
amidst fallen greens.
poem by Satish Verma
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Shards of Oblivion
Haplessly wafting through the pavements
Where the sun sprawled in supercilious entanglement
The mirage somersaulted in a carousal
Whilst my iron eyes thawed in arousal
And there in the vacuous silence of the horizon
Nonchalant of the maelstrom, I exhibited a forlorn
Writer with the garish polar lights as my pen
And the pavement my escritoire, too sullen,
And the paper is a blotted film upon my head
And the story I lace is from a nylon thread
That I found in the jagged fragments of my desk
Whilst mice and men scampered on the fractions and hex
My penmanship in a sodden rapture
I gnashed upon the panging stature
Of myself as I tried to press and swallow
The shards of oblivion, staining my paper with peccadillo
Though, no blood will seep out from my frenzied rivers
The gargoyles will snigger upon the driftwood that I am and slaver
In this farcical poetry effacing incarnation
Devouring the sanguine glowing bastion
Yet I endure, impassioned and despondently
Combing and palming the shards blithely
And gorge upon its piercing kisses
And the blasé of the looming chess pieces.
poem by Norman Santos
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The Bald Eagle
Over the river and soaring high,
Wings spread wide, with confidence assured,
The strength, that mighty strength,
Soaring above, high in the sky,
Seeking prey to feed its young,
The courage of a warrior,
With eyes so keen,
Just as a hero, yet so unsung,
Wings so black, yet head so white,
The Bald Eagle Soars,
In the heavens so blue,
It stands for all, willing to fight,
Freedom it stands for,
A beauty in flight,
A character of strength,
With its beauty it soars
Over the water and then the trees,
With wings spread, as it peers to the ground
Owning the sky, as it soars above
Protecting its country, in the early spring breeze.
poem by B.J. Ayers
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Colours
Blues and greens are my delight
Set in garlands of the white.
When God made the violet
He made nothing better yet.
Lilac and the lavender
Fit for queens of Heaven to wear.
Many russets and the rose,
God be praised for these and those!
For the silvers and the greys
Likewise ye shall give Him praise.
Scarlet is a King's colour
That the King of Kings once wore.
Yet when everything is said,
Bring me neither rose nor red.
Give me blue and green below,
Apple bloom and cherry snow.
Blue forget-me-nots beneath
Pear and plum-bloom in a wreath.
Or wild hyacinths in a glade --
Nothing better God has made.
Blues and greens and a white bough
Turn the earth to Heaven now.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Old Magic
Gray is the sea, and the skies are gray;
They are ghosts of our blue, bright yesterday;
And gray are the breasts of the gulls that scream
Like tortured souls in an evil dream.
There is white on the wings of the sea and sky,
And white are the gulls' wings wheeling by,
And white, like snow, is the pall that lies
Where love weeps over his memories.
For the dead is dead, and its shroud is wrought
Of good unfound and of wrong unsought;
Yet from God's good magic there ever springs
The resurrection of holy things.
See--the gold and blue of our yesterday
In the eyes and the hair of a child at play;
And the spell of joy that our youth beguiled
Is woven anew in the laugh of the child.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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One Winged Angel
one winged angel
stands in the rain
crying out for help
crying of the pain
someone help her
the one winged angel
is going crazy
the one winged angel is going insane
she slits her wrists
she screams his name
crying out for help
crying 'hes to blame'
the one winged ange
dies heartbroken
the one winged angel
dies inside
now all he feels is guilt
knowing that hes
the fight of her life
poem by Kristyann Celello
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Beautiful-Winged-One
Knowing you was the strength of my heart,
But loving you was the hope of my dreams!
And to your red valley i do give my respect.
The blues of spring,
The blues of summer,
The blues of autumn,
The blues of winter,
Meet me there when your flower blooms;
For the Garden of Eden was in Iraq.
The promise land is in Israel and you know my name,
But the Tower of Babel was in Iraq!
So is your dear love to my sweet heart.
My success is your success,
My love is your love,
And everything i have is for you! !
Oh beautiful-winged-one of my hope.
Give me wings to allow me fly along with you,
For gone are my teachers who taught me;
And knowing you today have given strength to my heart.
Gone are the days when i sailed along with the sailors,
But today i am alone in my boat;
And like the promise land which is far from me!
But i will reach there one day with the love of your muse.
My mind is bigger than my shoes!
But i do walk along normally with the sweet muse of my love;
So come to me my beautiful-winged-one,
For today you can read my mind because i am a writer.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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