Best Hawks Poems

Two hawks aloft
crows anxious banding together
neighbor comes over to my croft, likes the warm weather, November
a California Christmas and maybe species will migrate to reflect that,
paints watercolor ornaments, gentle Jewish lady
how far from her past is she now? or is she quite aware just not...

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An advent of raptors haunts the scant gray woods
or loiters over mall roofs.
We wake to their screams as if this were high sierra,
not Ohio where parents try-out or manage children,
open party stores, hunker through the coming
and going of baby Jesus; de-ice puffer jackets,
tend to flocks.

Gloom...

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Wandering along the winding trail I watch as hawks play
ducking and diving, swooping and tumbling and climbing
up again, making a magnificent display backed by their 
shrill cries to each other

Riding the thermals
climbing up in unison
wild spirits air bound

They have three fledglings to rear, so back...

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Shall I say I have known the arms already—known all
I don’t need the eternal note of sadness before I believe you...

I’ve walked in the night-wind with its roar
carried dreams on the back on this darkling plain

yet, I never knew those supple eyes 
had a maelstrom...

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the clan's totems
have been stolen -
between the awakening white teeth
of the twilight stars
they came
their blood-sucking beaks & talons
hidden under the soft feathers
they came 
singing the sonorous songs
like the weaver-birds of the clan -
the songs of the hawks
lured the eagle & her eaglets
into a new dance...

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I warn the hawks
Sparrow says thanks and kicks
His **** in my face...

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Hawks love winter and the
smell of death,
riding on bonfire winds,
dancing in cancerous snow flurries,
hanging razor icicles on overflows,
hawks love this aroma.

It’s not like napalm in the morning,
or the perfume of glory,
more the sewer whiff
of old mustard gas,
of dead sheep bloated with bad oxygen,
of flesh surrendered...

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The Sea Hawks each one vowed
You know what we love is a loud
Huge, incredible and great crowd
We made all the people very proud.

Go Sea Hawks.

James Thomas Horn
www.poetrysoup.com...

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The New World vultures – buzzards and hawks,
Circle-soar as they look for prey, among stalks.
Chomping smaller bird out of their feeders, so keen.
Turkey buzzards, so ruthless and intensely mean.

Spindly pink flamingo, a water-bred bird,
Loving South Florida, though it may seem absurd.
Proud orange in pink feathers...

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What furrowed brow now looks down upon this place, 
where hawks and doves dwell in peace?
What wrenched heart beats to the drum of such turmoil
yet finds rhythm in this breeze?
When all men find this place where will I go? 
For these streams are my streams,...

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Unhindered by birds or stars, hawks fly over the sky. 
In his fanciful glades, pursuing a fog growing heavier.
A cloud, he realizes, will fall in an unfathomable spot. 
Thunder rumbles afar away, and my heart skips a beat.
The mists are moving toward the stirring leaves....

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Highway hawks perch regally
On branches way up high,
Surveying their surroundings
As the traffic passes by.

No leaves to offer camouflage,
They're easier to see
And heading to New England
Half a dozen I did see.

Though immobile, I imagine
Any second they might swoop,
Plucking rodents from the roadside
Which their talons swiftly scoop.

Glad...

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Hankering hordes of hungry hovering hawks haunt hoodoos in Utah. 
Underfed California condors cruise canyon cataracts for corpses.
Nesting, starving swallows swiftly search for slime and straw in Saginaw.
Gorging ravenous ravens roam Wrangell’s razor ridges in Alaska.
Eager pelicans patrol and plunge for perch in pallid Pacific...

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A handsome hacienda down San Fernando way,
Whose curled sunburned tiles once gleamed from Apollo’s rays
Was home to gentle farmers who worked their crops each day;
And slept in peace while brown night hawks would flirt and play.

Furrowed flowing lines full of fruits and crops, row on...

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gossamer is the breath
falling in heated touches
this first monday morning
of autumn's calling

sunrise tipped trees
smile back at the horizon
a reflection of dawn

translucid drops
roll off the curls
of leaves yearning
to quench their thirst

no rain comes
from cloudless skies
just the cries of hawks
as they cincture above
appreciating the warmth
sheathed in this...

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