Songs Floating in the Western Wind

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It’s not that his soul was lost, he simply refused

to back down

when the hawks began to stare,

as he allowed his spirit

to take off,

through the pine trees.

To this day,

songs can be heard

in the distance

floating

in the western wind.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

As Snow Clouds Roll Down from the Mountains

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A quiet storm, as snow clouds roll down from the mountains

drifting over the valley carrying a few small flakes

meandering, swirling here

and there, and as I look beyond

the grey and white, I can see the shape

of hawk wings, his wings cutting the air,

his strength bringing

larger flakes, I quietly wish him,

“Good hunting my brother……”

as I zip up my jacket further,

and continue walking, now covered

in a deluge

of white.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

When I Am a Hawk

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You can still see the wind move through my feathers,

wings outstretched, holding

some dried blood now

but I can still bank to the left,

then right,

moving through the heart of the mountains,

and even in the dark clouds

I focus more on the river,

always the river,

so I can see again, going beyond,

what we know 

the ruins

of our world.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, 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

In the Feathers of their Wings

hawk from uhd wallpapers

In our ancient past, and in the not too distant future,

hawks will gently rest on our shoulders,

with their wings intricate, layer upon layer

of feathers to not only hold the wind

but to keep our prayers, tucked away until

the appointed time, and they lift off with a scream,

in the midst of the battle, as heaven rages,

against the never ending night.

In our ancient past, and in the not too distant future.

     

Poetry © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

image from udhwallpapers via google