Best Eagle Eye Poems
He spends a lot of time now days
On his old 8N Ford
He says that television’s no good
And newspapers just get him bored
His beard is not the neatest
But frankly he could care less
And if he tried to make a speech
He’d screw it up into a mess
His eyes are always bloodshot
Maybe too much booze have gone down
And country is where it’s at he says
Cause he detests having to go to town
Too many going nowhere
And followers knowing less
And nowhere to park the pickup
And the speed limits anyone’s guess
But late in the evening time
When the crickets and fireflies abound
Out sitting round his campfire
Is where old “Eagle Eye” can be found
He never got himself married
Said he just never took the time
But he sometimes talks about a girl
That used to work at the local 5 and dime
That was back before Viet Nam
And all the killings and stuff
But the spitting he got upon his return
Told “Eagle Eye” he’d had enough
He doesn’t pull for any candidates
But he votes when it’s election time
He states that it really doesn’t matter now
Since they’re all backed by power and crime
He passed away this evening
And yes I was in his will
The farm was now mine
Along with a big old roll of bills
The money’s now in the bank
Drawing interest as I’m set for life
Just me and that old 8N
And a fire pit and a pretty wife
But I still miss old “Eagle Eye”
And all the wit he had
Inside I know he was a loving dude
And he’d a made someone a loving dad
But he never married that girl
The one from the five and dime
Too long overseas he was
And she didn’t want to waste away her time
You marrow-deep in the bone-dry field,
sprawled like a wishbone snapped wrong-
the ground drinks your weight,
but won't swallow you whole.
wind combs its fingers through the wheat,
a mother's touch turned phantom.
That house- small as a postage stamp,
licked, sealed, and sent too far-
waits with its back turned.
your arms are bridges to nowhere,
your legs, two broken clock hands,
stuck in a time that does not move.
still, your gaze- sharp as a knife-edge moon-
slices the dance like a butcher's twine.
the land here is a tight-lipped secret,
a locked jaw of yellowed grass,
a lungful of dust that never exhales.
you wear silence like a second skin,
but your eyes, keen as a needle bite,
thread the gap between longing and gravity.
eagle-eyed girl, you have the hunters staring,
but the hunted bones
tell me- does the sky ever blink first?
I've stopped thinking that you hate me
I have now realized that you can not look at me eye to eye
because you can't stand your own reflection.
It must be a silver lining in the twilight.
J-ust keep an eagle eye on the flock,
O-n the twenty-fifth of November;
S-aturday like any other day
E-mploys unpredictable weather.
P-lease keep an eagle eye on the flock, keenly observe every chosen sheep;
H-ouse them in a safe shelter, before it gets dark and deep.
A-s you keep an eagle eye on the flock,
G-uide them toward the bright light;
U-sing the words of wisdom from God,
I-n the fall of the long night.
L-ook after the injured or sick, at the right time of the clock;
A-im to feed their mind and soul, keep an eagle eye on the flock.
I’ve been the one who dances
Among gravity devices
I am the soaring one
Who kept dancing
Soaring admit skies
Eagle eyes
10/17/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr©2024