No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.
quote by William Blake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Butterfly Darque
Butterfly Darque
==============
Wing And A Prayer,
Two To Soar,
High Above,
Or Way Spirit Down,
Darkest Wing,
A Prayer There Be,
A Solitary Standout,
From The Crowd,
Of Maddening Groupies,
Domination Monarch,
Blackest Wing,
Of Night There Be,
Look-a-like Moth,
Butterfly Wings,
Wonder In Genus...
Soars Like Butterfly!
There Can Be,
A Man You Seek,
Single In Soul,
High Alone,
Low In Spirits,
Flies Up High,
Appears Down Low,
Day Bound Glow,
When As Darque,
Wing To Shed,
Of The Night,
Bound Morose,
Fly Below,
Appear Above,
A Wing And A Prayer...
Soars Like Butterfly!
poem by Ricardo Antunes
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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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Early Works - Men With Wings
For years untold men have looked to the sky,
have tried to build wings on which to fly,
like Icraus who with his wings of wax
soared in the sky like a bird,
but who flew to close to the sun
where his wings melted and to the sea fell.
Other men came and other men tried,
in failure their names in time hide,
but soon the missing element was found,
the element, which could get them off the ground.
An Albatross of plastic wings
soars through the early morning sky
across a channel of salty waves
of which it glides just above.
From Eagle and Dragonfly,
man now has the ability to fly.
Author’s Note:
The above poem was written as a tribute to the men of the Gossamer Albatross who crossed the English Channel on the 12th June 1979.
13 June 1979
poem by David Harris
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A Wingless Bird?
We dwell in thee Oh God
As the fish dwells in the sea
We find our place in you
As a lock is to a key
To walk outside your presence
Is like a bird that has no wings
This bird that cannot fly
Is the bird that cannot sing
When we have left our first love
Then we stand outside the door
When this lion opens up its mouth
This lion finds it cannot roar
To dwell in any other place
Than deep within His heart
Is to stand upon the platform
And watch the train depart
Oh Lord we find our place in you
As the bird soars in the sky
If our place is not in you
Then we must surely die
Can a fish live out of water?
Can the wingless bird begin to fly?
Could a flower bloom in perpetual darkness?
Or would the flower surely die?
You are the wings that give us flight
You are the Sun that ends the night
You are the waters of the deep
You are the harvest that we reap
I am your exceeding great reward
Seek me with all your heart
Dwell with Me, your King, your Lord
And we shall never be apart
poem by Frank McEleny
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Bird's Wish
The bird asks me
What I’d do
If I am a bird.
I tell him
High and high I’d soar
So high that I’d see the earth no more
I’d be a bird on the tree
I’d be a bird that’s free!
What you’d do bird
If you’re a man?
To be fair
It’d be my only prayer to God
Don’t be so hard
Make me once again a bird!
Saying this the bird sings
And spreads its wings to a sky
I can never fly!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Just as the bird sings or the butterfly soars, because it is his natural characteristic, so the artist works.
quote by Alma Gluck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Purity and simplicity are the two wings with which man soars above the earth and all temporary nature.
quote by Thomas Kempis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Archangel of Death
Over fields of War soars the Raven, on wings of Death he flies
He sees the clash of bone and sword, hears the dying cries
Flies above the bloodied earth, his wings black out the sun
Come to collect the honored dead, each and every one
Angel of Death, Azrael, the Bloody Reaper Grim
Raven of Death, Herder of Souls, the Black Winged Seraphim
His face shrouded in shadow, in his hands a blackened sword
The Angel in Black, Collector of Souls, darkest servant of the Lord
The Raven soars the skies of earth, to collect men's final breath
Azrael, the Reaper Grim, Archangel of Death.
poem by Tim Vallie
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The Proud Peacock
I am the Peacock,
the beautiful bride
of the bird kingdom.
I am in no doubt
fairer than the cock
for I dwarf its pride
with feathers that stand-out.
I am the Peacock
who desires serfdom
from the bird kingdom,
for I long to usurp
the title of king
from the strong Eagle
who soars atop
with its air-borne wings.
Though fit as fiddle
with an awesome strength,
gliding the sky’s length
at a blistering pace,
yet dreaded for a face
that is void of grace.
I am the Peacock,
the elegantly clad.
Humans would be mad
to contend with me,
for shame you would see
if unclad they be.
poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (19 January 2015)
Submitted by Joseph C Ogbonna
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To Soar Again
inanimate one can soar like a rocker on a fuel at the back
the falling cannot do any harm
for things fall and falling is natural
one sometimes soars like a bird on real wings on feathers
that cannot withstand the storm
the waters hurt and the falling means death
but just the same one must soar and fall and die
nobody minds.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Breathtaking Eagle
Soars high in the cloudy sky
Eyes peering downward
Tis beginning of winter
Hunting for food to survive
tanka by Melvina Germain (28 November 2006)
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Solitary Seagull
High aloft the sandy beach
A solitary seagull soars
Detached, aloof, out of reach
A taste of freedom she explores
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Long Enough
My heart is like a bird that sings
and soars with outspread wings.
My heart is like a flute that plays
a lilting song that sings.
It knows no sorrow when you're near.
It only knows my dear
that however long you are with me
It will never be
long enough.
My heart is like a rose in bloom
whose scent fills every room.
My heart is like a chandelier
with crystals oh so clear.
It knows no pain on any day.
It only knows the way
you make me feel when you're with me,
and it will never be
long enough.
Then what is long enough you ask?
Long enough to bask
in the warmth of all my love for you,
long enough for two
to never question or wonder why
my heart is yours then sigh.
'Forever, forever
That's long enough.'
I cry.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Foolproof Strategy
What powerful things, are an eagle's wings,
As he soars high on currents of air.
So graceful in flight, when seen at great height,
Oh! How you wish you could be there.
Gliding supreme, in a wonderful dream,
Free as that proud bird of prey.
A beautiful sight, when his sharp eyes alight
On good food, when off on a foray.
In silence he sits, motionless, his wits
Gauging what his next move ought to be.
Such elegance and style, he hunts with such guile,
Endowed with a foolproof strategy.
His skill is top-notch he is always on watch,
For creatures that are travelling with haste.
He swoops with sheer speed, and captures his feed,
Devouring it, and loving the taste.
While he is trailblazing, he rules like a king,
The fields are his conquered domain.
A veritable speeder, a formidable leader,
In legendary splendour, long may he reign.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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A good morning wish
A touch
Like the first ray of morning Sun
Wipes out the accrued pain of darkness.
The world of mine of a sleepless night
Suddenly gets drenched in flurry of colors.
The silence breaks with so much of joy all around.
Hear it in birds' song,
In fluttering wings of butterflies,
In opening of petals of blossoming flowers.
Your Good Morning wish sets free my Captive heart
It spreads wings and soars high,
Embracing the blue of endless sky.
I feel my heart gets painted in colors
Of this blissful world of flowers
And butterflies.
Suddenly I find my world has no horizon.
poem by Kingshuk Chakraborty
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Modesty is high in view.
A painting free of cost;
A painting with a tag;
A painting not for sale;
The third soars high in view.
24.10.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Evensong
It is late, on a cold, dark, wintry afternoon;
Up high in a tree, a small bird merrily croons.
Trade in the town, has now begun to wind down,
And taking centre stage, is the bird’s sweet sound.
Like an operatic singer, his voice soars high,
And his song delights many, as they pass by.
Your ears can not help, but hear his loud call,
As the sun, once again, sets and darkness falls.
He sings for joy, at the very top of his voice;
To listen to his song, you have little choice.
He sits at the very top of the tallest tree,
Singing so loudly; his heart full of glee.
His plaintive call pierces the cool air,
As he sings his song, without a care.
A pure quality, his sweet song holds,
And he sings it out, so bright and bold.
His singsong attracts many a nice comment;
His performance appears to be Heaven sent.
Of his captivated audience, he is unaware;
His song boasts beauty, beyond compare.
Like a church choir, as they sing evensong,
This small bird sings so very keen and strong.
Through the dark streets, home, I wearily wind;
Sad to be leaving the bird’s sweet song behind.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Sense Of Peace
How clear is the air found at a mountain's top,
And breathing this freshness, clarifies all things,
At such high altitude, oxygen can drop,
Then movement slow's, but thoughts fly swift on wings,
Letting the new adventurer explore,
A world that opens wide its magic doors.
Land of peak and valley, sea and shore.
Viewing all this, one's heart pulsates and soars,
Then a sense of peace, envelops the inner soul,
And lightness pervades, where heaviness has been,
Lifting the senses, raising them as a whole,
Introducing pure quietness, making one's life serene.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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