Best Vultures Poems
As the reaper approached, I lie waiting for death,
whispering sad goodbyes while gasping for breath.
In a blurry haze of awareness, I drift towards sleep,
as visions of childhood days in my mind slowly creep.
I hear muffled sobs of loved ones as they weep.
There's a shadowy presence flying high overhead,
those scavengers of death, those that I most dread.
Their beady black eyes intent on watching my face,
circling around and around. It's a feast they chase,
ebon wing feathers falling as they hasten their pace.
I've need of sanity, so I close my eyes and pretend
I'm walking on a summer day with my best friend.
We're chasing tadpoles and sloshing in streams,
laughing as our skin turns bronze from sunbeams,
then I wake to realize that these were but dreams.
My memories are fading, and my lips feel numb.
To eternity's slumber, I will soon succumb.
I asked someone near me to chase them away...
She bent close and whispered, "What did you say?"
"The vultures circling me. Please keep them at bay."
Clusters of tenebrous clouds obscured the sunlight.
I heard raucous calls of the damned vultures in flight.
Oh, how I begged for their tormenting caws to cease,
for only then would I live my last moments in peace.
I heralded silence then welcomed life's release.
July 10, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 31 Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Theme: Vultures Circling
A life's work in ruins - vultures fighting for the yield
10.09.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Vultures -----
-----------passing over dying shadows
nothing to feast on
the wind came and carried them away
10-26-13
SandyIvy
The vultures are waiting for the night.... Waiting for the sun to die...
They will find me in my darkest hour and pick my bones dry...
I rock in my painted corner, humming a little song...
I dwell on my disease, the one I've dwelled on for too long...
My castle has grown smaller as I lie awake in wait...
My dreams have become fewer, as ever closer comes my fate...
Now's the time for prayer, as the tears fall from my eyes...
They look at me and squawk, as they plummet from the skies...
It was not so
It was not so
Before the invasion of the vultures
In those days
When being black makes us thick
When our communion whispers across oceans
When our ties thrust distrust
When our dreams were dreams
When our groans frighten their gods
When our cowries outweigh their currencies
But now,
The invasion of the vultures
Mocked our mores
Crucified our tradition with their crusades
Barter our black gem for arms
Conscript our angels into prostitution
Littering our minds with the doctrines of servitude
It was not so
With their holy writ they stabbed us
It was not so
Before the invasion of the Vultures.
awoh kingsley awoh
Vultures feed off the dead,
therefore we are worried
seeing them overhead,
as fearful thought spirals,
hovering in our head.
Vultures feed off the dead,
so it’s time to reflect
on dark desires ill bred,
grown out of proportion,
since we’re by instincts led.
Vultures feed off the dead,
thus we must be a corpse,
roaming on earth with dread,
in bondage to desires,
whose roots in us have spread.
Vultures feed off the dead
but we’re soul eternal
refusing to be bled
by cravings of ego,
choosing God’s light instead.
03-July-2022
Not even a ballot box can change the word etched
when God has left man to his own independent council
Choice of error has crept into every corner of society
rights have been turned upside down undervaluing natural law
Which in it's content is engraved deeply and implanted for a genuine reason
vices are desires that sickens even demons
Ruling against eternal justice reeks of an awful sinful soul
what is wrong with the world today let us see
They are afraid to speak the truth openly and democratically
instead virtues and morals are fed to the lions
The first victim removing freedom
weighs heavy chains attached anchor dropped
Because of them having very little faith
sinking beneath par they applaud the sinner
removing peace fire breathing with shame and hate
Condemning everything which is good
with twisted malice beastly shaped with doctored views condemned
it will end soon when everyone awakens
from their sorrowful pitied state
Injustice's vultures
Circling over the righteous
Humanity's shame!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
03 May 2018
* I had to check twice to make certain it is true that this poem of mine
was honored as POTD and that was also included in the list of the best new poems.
I sincerely thank those responsible, starting with my friends who are visiting me and
the Poetrysoup officials who took the decision. Should not forget my Muse who is
the source of this writing. God bless you!
In the shadows, harpies linger as agents provocateur,
for the Fallen Watchers, for pecking order.
Prostitute mercenaries,
addicted to mercury and disorder.
Their claws sharp, their cries a shiver,
their motive insanity from hell's hateful quiver.
They pluck you from the light of day,
leave you in the flames to barter the fray,
to drown in the sea of faith no more.
Till nightfall,
where they tend the fires of a black wind,
poking signal lures,
preying for entropic thunder,
and romantic moon,
lyres to ascend your spirit
for the purpose of dropping you again
in despairs pit and swoon.
Denoting your abandonment and seclusion,
shoeing the fit,
wild horses couldn't drag them away.
Hoping to find you behind chaos's fire-line,
enemy mine,
a broken rhyme-
not asKing for a new day;
a soul adrift, in a sea of doubt,
no compass, no sails, no wind,
no faith, "tag you're it, hide your eyes and don't count."
on being saved from the fade to black
from grey lack of faith.
Height 6'1", checked.
Waist a breath, legs a line,
checked.
Horned jaws, a sharp decree,
checked.
Weight, a feather's fallacy,
checked.
Groomed, primed, pinched,
poked,
A porcelain doll to be arrayed
before the hungry gaze of
vultures.
A spectacle, framed and bright,
Fascination of the surface.
This is what life on heels looks
like, my dear.
The longer you spend on it,
the more unbearable.
The brighter you shine, the faster
you burn.
Stay too long on these sharpened
stakes,
And bone yields, the spirit breaks.
A wound unseen, a silent tear,
Scars from the heels are hard to
heal.
Vultures
See them circle high upon the wing
Their beady eyes scan for anything
A weakness in their prey is all they need
And patience for its death before they feed
They watch hyena harry of the weak
To join in the gore is all they seek
To get their beaks in flesh by any means
They listen, waiting for the dying screams
See them circle lower to the ground
Encouraged by the warring battle sound
In numbers now, to the fight they flock
To witness murder of him in the dock
They watch hyena with his teeth now bared
Knowing soon his meal will be shared
The scent of blood, delighted with the kill
Swooping in, enjoying every thrill
See them flutter ugly in the dust
To scavenge in a death that seems unjust
The victim, he was happy getting by
Pot bellies satisfied without a sigh.
now that Chavez is dead,
the american oil companies
chomping at the bit
begin to salivate & lick their lips,
seething
with the foam
of potent country-gutting
rabies---
for while he was alive,
Venezuela was one of the only
countries left,
who resisted the empire’s attempts to
penetrate it & whore it out to the
highest capitalist bidder---
with Chavez dead,
not only will the oil soon be drained from
within the borders of beautiful
Venezuela,
but so will die the social programs that Chavez
instilled,
those that had been used to combat the
extreme poverty which exists in the country,
those that the governments before Chavez did nothing to
prevent.
so goes Chavez,
so goes a bastion of anti-empire,
so goes a man who pushed Chomsky’s work at the
United Nations,
so goes a man who championed the bloc that
would resist the swallowing up of
Latin America by the
empire.
yes,
the vultures are hungry,
they are perched & ready---
rather than create green alternatives to the
reliance on oil,
they will suck every last drop &
make the world do their bidding,
creating a negative media firestorm
to shed hate upon a man who can no longer
defend himself,
just as they will the next who steps up to resist.
the stench of death
attracts vultures from afar
they gather 'round --
rumors of war
draw armies near
5/27/15
Along
a freedom trail,
lost opportunities-
white carcases of yesterday's
concepts.
Vultures Feed (Quatern, 1 May 2014)
The vultures fed upon the plains
As one tribe enslaved another
All they left were the dry remains
Husbands, fathers, sons and brothers
Then came the vikings from the north.
The vultures fed upon the plains.
Knights died trying to prove their worth.
Bezerkers killed and terror reigns.
Europe's Napoleon campaigns
Echoed later by the Third Reich
The vultures fed upon the plains
And two Gulf Wars were much alike
Love will fail, the Moon will redden
Nuclear winter, poisoned rains
Prophecies of Armageddon
The vultures fed upon the plains