A Beautiful Song
A Beautiful Song. (Ink Spots)
“I don’t want to set the world on fire” what a lovely song.
But I’m disturbed by sparrows, sit in my orange tree and
make a racket, so much for bird song. Out on the terrace
I stretch out my arms pretend to be an eagle, they fly off.
But they soon return realising I’m not much of an eagle.
I throw pebbles at them, terrified miniature mountains,
that only get to fly when someone, say, me throws them.
I still hear the sparrows sit in my neighbour’s orange tree,
argue about territories and no- fly- zones. A flurry of angry
wings, what is this a civil war? High above on the blue sky,
a bald eagle circles. “I don’t want to set the world on fire.”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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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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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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A pair of Sparrows on my lovely Lemon Tree
Those were the days
So joyous and carefree
When I could watch the preening of
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
Summer days were so short, winters were so long
And for endless hours one could go on a kite flying spree
When I could watch, hopping here and there
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
Enjoying tender sunshine in winter is a past
And chapattis from an earthen hearth a history
When I could watch, assembling of a nest by
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
What seemed to be mundane at that time
Life in my backyard so ordinary
Bliss it is in hindsight, chirping of
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
I still sometimes motivate myself
To get off the treadmill and shake the shackles free
But can’t anymore find in my back yard
That pair of sparrows and that lovely lemon tree
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree..
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree.......
30 July 09
poem by Ravi Singh
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Fire On The Hills
The deer were bounding like blown leaves
Under the smoke in front the roaring wave of the brush-fire;
I thought of the smaller lives that were caught.
Beauty is not always lovely; the fire was beautiful, the terror
Of the deer was beautiful; and when I returned
Down the back slopes after the fire had gone by, an eagle
Was perched on the jag of a burnt pine,
Insolent and gorged, cloaked in the folded storms of his shoulders
He had come from far off for the good hunting
With fire for his beater to drive the game; the sky was merciless
Blue, and the hills merciless black,
The sombre-feathered great bird sleepily merciless between them.
I thought, painfully, but the whole mind,
The destruction that brings an eagle from heaven is better than mercy.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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I Won't Fly
I'm just a little bird
but I've got wings
like the wings
of an eagle.
I can fly high
higher than the clouds
but I won't fly
because I want to walk with you
under the sun
or even under the rain.
I'm just a little bird
but I've got wings
like the wings
of an eagle.
I can fly high
but, I won't fly
and will never spread my wings
as long as I have
...your love.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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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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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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On The Wings Of Change We Shall Ride
yes, we shall take the hitch ride
towards the place we have never been too
we shall ride on the wings of change
whatever that be
Big Black Eagle
Night Hawk
Blue King Herons
Brown Sparrows
Yes, we shall take the chances
and grab the changes
This world is gone
And those who are left out
Are going Nowhere.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tampa Robins
The robin laughed in the orange-tree:
"Ho, windy North, a fig for thee:
While breasts are red and wings are bold
And green trees wave us globes of gold,
Time's scythe shall reap but bliss for me
-- Sunlight, song, and the orange-tree.
Burn, golden globes in leafy sky,
My orange-planets: crimson I
Will shine and shoot among the spheres
(Blithe meteor that no mortal fears)
And thrid the heavenly orange-tree
With orbits bright of minstrelsy.
If that I hate wild winter's spite --
The gibbet trees, the world in white,
The sky but gray wind over a grave --
Why should I ache, the season's slave?
I'll sing from the top of the orange-tree
`Gramercy, winter's tyranny.'
I'll south with the sun, and keep my clime;
My wing is king of the summer-time;
My breast to the sun his torch shall hold;
And I'll call down through the green and gold
`Time, take thy scythe, reap bliss for me,
Bestir thee under the orange-tree.'"
poem by Sidney Lanier
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The Name Of The Game/eagle
Ive seen you twice, in a short time
Only a week since we started
It seems to me, for every time
Im getting more open-hearted
I was an impossible case
No-one ever could reach me
But I think I can see in your face
Theres a lot you can teach me
So I wanna know..
Whats the name of the game?
Does it mean anything to you?
Whats the name of the game?
Can you feel it the way I do?
Tell me please, cause I have to know
Im a bashful child, beginning to grow
And you make me talk
And you make me feel
And you make me show
What Im trying to conceal
If I trust in you, would you let me down?
Would you laugh at me, if I said I care for you?
Could you feel the same way too?
I wanna know..
The name of the game
I have no friends, no-one to see
And I am never invited
Now I am here, talking to you
No wonder I get excited
Your smile, and the sound of your voice
And the way you see through me
Got a feeling, you give me no choice
But it means a lot to me
So I wanna know..
Whats the name of the game? (your smile and the sound of your voice)
Does it mean anything to you? (got a feeling you give me no choice)
(but it means a lot)
Whats the name of the game? (your smile and the sound of your voice)
Can you feel it the way I do?
Tell me please, cause I have to know
Im a bashful child, beginning to grow
And you make me talk
And you make me feel
And you make me show
What Im trying to conceal
If I trust in you, would you let me down?
Would you laugh at me, if I said I care for you?
Could you feel the same way too?
I wanna know..
Oh yes I wanna know..
The name of the game (I was an impossible case)
Does it mean anything to you? (but I think I can see in your face)
(that it means a lot)
Whats the name of the game? (your smile and the sound of your voice)
Can you feel it the way I do? (got a feeling you give me no choice)
(but it means a lot)
Whats the name of the game? (I was an impossible case)
Does it mean anything to you? (but I think I can see in your face)
(that it means a lot)
(fade)
/
They came flying from far away, now Im under their spell
I love hearing the stories that they tell
Theyve seen places beyond my land and theyve found new horizons
They speak strangely but I understand
And I dream Im an eagle
And I dream I can spread my wings
Flying high, high, Im a bird in the sky
Im an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
Over mountains and forests and seas
And to go anywhere that I please
As all good friends we talk all night, and we fly wing to wing
I have questions and they know everything
Theres no limit to what I feel, we climb higher and higher
Am I dreaming or is it all real?
Is it true Im an eagle?
Is it true I can spread my wings?
Flying high, high, Im a bird in the sky
(Im an eagle)
Im an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
(what a feeling)
Over mountains and forests and seas
And to go anywhere that I please
And I dream Im an eagle
And I dream I can spread my wings
Flying high, high, Im a bird in the sky
(Im an eagle)
Im an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
(what a feeling)
Over mountains and forests and seas
Flying high, high, Im a bird in the sky
(Im an eagle)
Im an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
(what a feeling)
Over mountains and forests and seas
And to go anywhere that I please
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flying
The extremely painful slice
That cut away her last little piece of freedom
Her wings
Unable to fly her only other option is to fall
Fall into the trap they set up right in front of her own eyes
Everything starts to fade
In the distance she hears this song
I want to sore on the wings of an eagle
I want to sore through the clouds
I want to feel the wind in my hair
I want to feel what it’s like to be free
I want to fly and touch the sky and never want to come down
I want to sore on the wings of an eagle
I want to feel what it’s like to be free
I want to feel these imbedded ropes being cut away from my wrists
I want to walk on my own not dragging these chains behind me
The song becomes dimmer as a hand strokes her face
And the all too familiar voice asks if everything is alright
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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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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January The Eagle
January the Eagle
Waits up top a hill
It gazes down onto the snowy ground
Without making any sound,
People watch silent and still
As the months march round with clattering sound
Outside their window sills
The eagle tests its wings
Waiting for the song to ring,
Tired of testing, tired of resting,
It screams far and loud
It’s heard all around
Echoing around
The world fast,
As it waits to be freed from the past
It listens until the words are sung
Which are nice and crisp from the slip of a tongue,
January is one again
And new times are ready to begin
The sound will hear loud and clear
As round and beautiful as a sphere,
The sound of future, a light
As magic and wondrous as love at first sight,
Don’t be impatient to hear it
As the songs of future
Can be heard quite near it,
As life is replenished
The sound is heard
With triumphant words
As harsh weather meets nice nature,
A new era has begun,
The Eagle drops
Without a stop,
To soon recover with a turn
The eagle says I shall return,
Just like the month of January
Through rain and sleet
The eagle flies
Its' wings beat
In the cotton blotched sky,
Higher and higher it must fly
To see the sun shine proud
In the bright free sky
The Eagle’s heart of love
January’s white dove,
The Eagle’s talons of strength
January’s unforgiving length,
The Eagle’s wings that soar
Are January’s winds of roar,
The Eagle’s balding white
Reveals January’s loving light,
The Eagle’s eyes are quick and sharp
As January’s musical winter harp,
A bird of prey
A month of new way
January like an Eagle,
Both represent a time when hopes renewed
And long before reviewed,
An Eagle can fly stunningly high
Like spirit of America in tragic time,
As war comes to end a new hate will begin,
Why do we still fly?
Because there’s always the sky.
To dream a dream of peace
Brotherhood united to release
Even through wars of nature or man
The Eagle and the American people
Have something lethal
Freedom and spirit is the weapon of choice
For when bad wind blows
We’ll always fight back with a voice
Beware when the nest is stirred
Out flies the bird
When the eagles fly
Evil will die
For beware not to bother
Our god our father
Our way of living
And your hell-full sinning.
No god would ask for such hate
For it’s the beginning, it’s not too late
A nation torn by others aggression
Looks to support her people with passion
A new birth a waits,
A new lesson others hate,
Freedom and spirit united we stand
No unwanted force shall invade our land,
Sheltering wings of protection to provide
For a nation full of honor and pride,
January is the beginning
And the Eagle is the spirit of the living.
poem by Will David
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Hypnagogic
a woman dreams that she turns
into an orange bird
and on the other hand the orange
bird seeing her so beautiful and complete
less the orange wings and feathers
dreams of having woman-hands
soft and a flowing body like a slender
river curving through along
the side of a big mountain where
the orange bird perches on a branch
of an olive tree beside it
convoluted, the thoughts unwind
themselves in sleep wanting rest
from all these warping of time
and seasons and images and swapping
between reality and dream
surreal and mundane
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Slithering Serpent
Slithering down a slimy slope,
the serpent dared to hope,
for the eagle's nest left an egg,
to satisfy his hunger dread.
This eagle soared with wings held high,
far away through the sky,
for the egg was rotten, stinking vile,
for the snake it would be so satisfying to rile.
This present became a nail too,
for the snake only wanted to avoid the blue,
through the mountains it slithered away,
though its gnawing hunger would not abate,
Writhing in agony it stroke out,
at all the world did it silently shout,
as its wings worry did send
that its journey was almost at an end.
None understood, this serpent had a chance
to be more than just a thief, and enhance
those others around, by being that which they did not fear,
till no longer could those lies it hear,
Its cries filled the world at this last cruel joke,
for the paltry few it had dared to poke.
poem by Kevin Maroney
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A Spell For Creation
Within the flower there lies a seed,
Within the seed there springs a tree,
Within the tree there spreads a wood.
In the wood there burns a fire,
And in the fire there melts a stone,
Within the stone a ring of iron.
Within the ring there lies an O,
Within the O there looks an eye,
In the eye there swims a sea,
And in the sea reflected sky,
And in the sky there shines the sun,
Within the sun a bird of gold.
Within the bird there beats a heart,
And from the heart there flows a song,
And in the song there sings a word.
In the word there speaks a world,
A world of joy, a world of grief,
From joy and grief there springs my love.
Oh love, my love, there springs a world,
And on the world there shines a sun,
And in the sun there burns a fire,
Within the fire consumes my heart,
And in my heart there beats a bird,
And in the bird there wakes an eye,
Within the eye, earth, sea and sky,
Earth, sky and sea within an O
Lie like the seed within the flower.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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Ode to the bird in the cypress tree
Ode to the bird in the cypress tree
~
I wish to be like the bird in the cypress tree
shaded from the heat of the midday sun
yet still free to ride upon the ocean breeze
whenever it chooses to blow from time to time
I wish to be like the bird in the cypress tree
and chirp my own little song aloud to the world
or to fly amongst the clouds so high above
and look down to watch the world below
I wish to be like the bird in the cypress tree
for all my wishes and day bought dreams
I am here and I am still me writing a poem
about that lucky bird perched in the cypress tree
poem by Matthew Holloway
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