Whispering Each Other’s Names

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She loved it when the wind gently lifted his feathers

she tucked her wing under his,

and felt so alive

they both ascended

whispering

each other’s names.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

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The Last Fish

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Note: This is about a Bird of Prey hunting and may disturb some people.

His wings burned as he turned, into the sky fire apocalypse

but it was the only way to make it, to the lake

he dove head down, down with wings enfolded

a bullet from the heavens

until crashing, breaking

the surface of the water, talons extended

he was all talons flailing

until he caught it

the last fish on planet Earth.

As he slowly flapped now

to his favorite rock,

he did pray for God

to do a miracle, to create

a new Earth once again,

as he devoured fish flesh

for the last time.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Hawk Eyes

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Some of you may not know that I have a fiction blog, and that I’m currently writing a series of stories that I really enjoy, called Hawk Eyes.

The story revolves around a guy who develops some very strange eyes. He can see very far away, and has excellent night vision, and his eyes even look like the eyes of a hawk! He has also just met a young lady.

Here is a piece from the most recent segment:

I must have passed out, because I don’t remember anything before the two of us hit the ground, with a huge thud. The strange thing was, we were right back where we started. Was it a vision, or had we really turned into hawks?

To be honest, I couldn’t think straight, I was in too much pain, and as I rolled around moaning, unable to get up, I was vaguely aware of Michelle yelling at me. “What the hell is wrong with you?!!” “You almost killed both of us?!!” But her voice seemed distant and I had a ringing in my ears, so I ignored her.

As I began sitting up, she was still yelling, “You never give up, in the middle of a transformation!!” I shook my head trying to think, “A transfor…..what?” It was then that Michelle stood over me, with both hands on her hips. She said, “Trans-for-ma-tion.”, as if I needed to hear it slower. And then she did something I would never forget, and to be honest I wish she hadn’t done it…….

For more of the story, and other fiction as well, you can find it here:

www.themysticalforest.wordpress.com

The blog name is Blue Skies in the Morning, and the web address above will take you there.

Thanks for reading!

I will be posting some poetry here later today.

    

Writing and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

Laughing at the Hawk

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A hawk shifts slightly on one of the highest branches, as he listens

to a mouse below burrowing, through last year’s leaves.

A chipmunk jumps here and there, bolder today

due to the density of the fog,

laughing at the hawk, because

all of the creatures know

there will be no hunting

in the forest, today.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

Why Love Poetry?

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I love poetry because even a devastated spirit can be given wings again,

sometimes a dove flying through the peaceful forest, with the gentle

azure of a stream overflowing, bubbling serenely

over divinely placed rocks.

   

And then there are times poetry gives us the wings of eagles

and hawks, with a 10 ft. wingspan, talons extended

screaming, in the bird of prey language,

ready to tear off the head of

every demon of despair.

    

Yes, I love poetry,

isn’t it amazing?

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

A Hawk with Wings Extended

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Have you ever seen a hawk with wings extended? Today for the second time in my life, a hawk came straight at me, eye level, a few feet away. They always come from the left, passing me by with their wings outstretched.

And they love giving me the eye. It is a sign?

Perhaps they are sensing another set of wings, that we are friends. But then again, that’s probably just wishful thinking.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies