Best Wingspan Poems
black and white landscape
a colony of penguins ~
standing and waddling
in the oceans depth
lives a black and white giant~
orca killer whale
seal on an ice flow
oblivious to danger ~
head butting whale strikes
egg laid by female
emperor penguin stands guard~
female goes hunting
not in Africa
elephant and leopard seals~
sea is their jungle
hourglass dolphins
smaller than a bottlenose~
keen bow wave riders
home is in the air
the wandering albatross~
a ten foot wingspan
in the frozen south
a species of royal bird~
the emperor penguin
the antarctic terns
fly over a silver dish~
krill is on the menu
thick and warm white coat
a camouflaged artic fox~
unseen in the snow
top of the food chain
carnivorous white giant~
fearsome polar bear
Categories:
wingspan, bird, nature, ocean, snow,
Form:
Haiku
Aloft, with keen eyes in sorbet skies’ raspberry half-light
visceral vibrations of vitality does await.
Soaring in a hush, with plumage plush, a silent stealth kite,
he glissades on ghostly winds with mystical wings of fate.
Poised to plummet from his summit of purple sundown spread
with wingspan wide, wreathed gradual glide, hunts a twilight hawk.
Floating form causes flocks to brainstorm on life or death dread,
those flying forlorn, late to roost, are reduced by his stalk.
Aerodynamic, his dramatic dive deals destiny,
raptor raptly pursues passerine through air’s plum-bruised dim.
Whispering wings whisk to live and not die desperately,
over the arborvitaes the future for one is grim.
If it’s true that energy never dies; its cries transform,
then songbird's notes will ascend on hunter's wings in reform.
Susan Ashley
December 3, 2017
~ First Place ~
Contest: Your Best Poem In The Last Year
Sponsor: Silent One
~ Seventh Place ~
Contest: Best Rhyming Poem October - December 2017
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Categories:
wingspan, bird, conflict, death, destiny,
Form:
Rhyme
Every flower has its own color
With annual observation,
this we springtime discover
Give a womb kernel cede
of acknowledgment
To the spectrum birthright
of each other
We are all one,
tho’ from a different umbilical mother
Notice the bloom of time,
come rain ... come sunshine
First eclipse dawn —
tyranny tares grew with the
the golden amber grain —
The face of nightshade oppression
had a dark tone
Steel magnolias was the fetter fragrance
of the pyramid rule chain
Pharaohs, (of no melanin discretion)
who wore the ornamental godhead,
sat atop the pinnacle
While the slaves were downtrodden fed
at the bottom below
Their crowning achievement
was to erect great tombs
But papyrus thieves in the temple
stole the toil of the ruins
Skin for skin,
this is a-fertile sowing season true
Each summer solstice empire
passes into autumnal decline view
Every bird has its own color
And the length of each wingspan
differs from one another
Take an umbilical hover,
acceptance flight
To the spectrum birthright
of each diverse other
We are all one,
tho’ tear delivered
joyously from a different womb mother
Notice the migration of time
come swaddle skybound ... come burial ground
Last obscure sunset
was the Legion silo bane talon —
The thorny wrinkles of oppression
had a pale monotone
Caesars, (of no pigment distinction)
who wore the prickly spiked laurel bled,
sat atop the carrier chariot
While the plebs were commercial shackle led
to the amphitheater above
Their crowning achievement
was to deify great destructive bombs
As scrip crooks in the palace
pilfered the taxable gift of the palms
Skin for skin ~ Epidermal blend,
this is birds of prey a-nesting season true
Autumn equinox tech empires
passed into cold war, nuclear winter view
The nature of wisdom
teaches cross-pollination pure acceptance love:
Tho’ each fruit has its own color
Why then, doth this root of affinity divides us?
This is crystal clear!
Yet, what is the color of water,
of which thee Mist of Life doth bring?
It is snowflake known —
Tears of repentance
is from whence salvation doth spring
Categories:
wingspan, metaphor, nature, truth, wisdom,
Form:
Prose Poetry
( An old poem, slightly modified)
How I wish my poems could,
soar higher and higher
like a bird of limitless wingspan,
dashing into horizons far!
But they skim like web footed water birds,
tilting their wings in vain,
unable to fly to any desired destination
helplessly watching larks and eagles
flying to the far edges of the sky.
How I wish my poems could,
sail across the limitless expanse
like parting ships bound to distant lands
carrying my fancies to the ends of the Earth!
But they remain like paper boats
set to sail by mischievous kids
that drift hither n’ thither on muddy puddles.
How I wish my poems could,
wind their way down slopes and dales
like a fountain stream running down
to join the sea, travelling miles.
But they slither like snakes,
struggling to move on polished floors.
How I wish my poems could,
grow out from chrysalis to butterflies
to flit around flowers and feed on nectar.
But they ever remain such creepy worms,
destined to hide behind blades of leaves.
How I wish, like an inspired artist,
I could paint on my canvas, with deft hands,
the luster and glory of the setting sun,
the freshness and beauty of the spring flowers
the scary grandeur of the mountains
the silence of the lonesome lagoon
the dark majesty of the unlit groves
the sunlit glades of trackless forests
and scenes and sights, so varied and myriad
that I could array before you in magic shades,
the wonders of an unseen paradise!
But, Alas! What I leave on my canvas
is just a banal scene!
My poems, like kites tangled,
among the branches of trees
are denied forward movement!
Still I don’t regret my efforts…..
Like the lyrics of a half forgotten melody,
my poems delight me,
in my sequestered hours of loneliness!
Categories:
wingspan, analogy, desire, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
How I wish my poems could,
Soar higher and higher
Like a bird of limitless wingspan,
Dashing into horizons far!
But they skim like web footed water birds,
Tilting their wings in vain,
Unable to fly to any desired destination
Helplessly watching larks and eagles
Flying to the far edges of the sky
How I wish my poems could
Sail across the limitless expanse
Like parting ships bound to distant lands
Carrying my fancies to the ends of the Earth!
But they remain like paper boats
Set to sail by mischievous kids
That drift hither n’ thither on muddy puddles
How I wish my poems could
Wind their way down slopes and dales
Like a fountain stream running down
To join the sea, travelling miles
But they slither like snakes,
Struggling to move on polished floors
Alas! My poems, like kites tangled
Among the branches of trees
Are denied forward movement!
Still I don’t regret my efforts…..
Like the lyrics of a half forgotten melody
My poems delight me
In my sequestered hours of loneliness!
Feb.6.2023
2022 Poetry Marathon Qualifier's Final Placement
Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mark Toney
Nov.14.2022
2022 .Poetry Marathon mile.20. Contest
Sponsor- Mark Toney
Placed First
In the Brian Strand (1050) Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Brian Strand
Categories:
wingspan, birth, fantasy, words,
Form:
Blank verse
I fly on wing of song.
Twenty-three miles out of Atlanta
soaring like an eagle traveling from DC
thirty-six thousand miles high
Fly, fly away
Through the blue hues of morning
white fluffiness lie below towards earth
puffy white and gray cotton-like softness
gently moving on windsong
feeling like a Welsh princess
watching o’er her universe.
I see the world through a rectangle
looking out over the airplane’s wing
reaching outward and upward.
Soaring like hope
Moving like faith
Solid span of charity
Humming motor onward bound joyful sound
A higher plane than I have found;
Lord, plant my feet on higher ground
wind under my winged sails
I’m pressing on the upward way.
Arrows painted on wingspan
pointing left as we travel right
viewing “safety line attach point”
feeling secure way up here
three flapjacks adjusting the wind flow
reminding of Father, Son and Holy Spirit
pouring through keeping my soul.
Upward outward incline
continuous motion held by metal strength
while thin white clouds pass by.
Heaven’s sky still far far away
no matter how far up one gets God is farther still
beyond the blue somewhere higher.
Sitting assured as my mind presses on—
landing soon will come
back to earth world
where I belong.
@2011 – Evelyn Pearl Carpenter Anderson
Categories:
wingspan, universe,
Form:
Imagism
In majestic beauty I stand alone
My lifetime mate included
Together on land we build our home
Preferably secluded
My five foot wingspan is solid white
Hunting is done in the light
Fish, rabbits, rodents and birds are nice
Lemmings are a daily delight
With yellow eyes and beard of black
I rule my frozen domain
Neither fox nor wolf would dare attack
Even eagles are aware of my fame
The ghost like snowy male owl am I
With razor sharp talons to die for
Arctic tundra is where I prowl up high
Where snow peaks are just the ground floor.
Feb 6 2016 an original poem by Daniel Turner
Categories:
wingspan, appreciation, bird, education,
Form:
Personification
The unicorn was soaring high;
I watched it fly across the sky.
A regal beast of snowy white,
Its horn was like a stalagmite;
Its wingspan took my breath away.
I smiled with joy to hear it neigh -
But then I spotted on its back,
A grinning rider, dressed in black:
PD was out with her new pet;
She waved and zoomed off like a jet.
And as they flew towards the sun,
I knew her birthday would be fun.
Jack Horne, with love to PD on her birthday ***
Categories:
wingspan, adventure, birthday,
Form:
Rhyme
While I blew on my hands and held my tongue
A startling star swung out of the sky,
And though to gravity need not comply,
Descended to ledge where envious clung.
Of course we all would climb to the summit
To leap from the acme, fly with the winds,
But not all have wingspan: some just have fins.
Some blaze aria, others but hum it.
If toe-hold needs gained, deny temptation
Its perilous urge to drag on the guide,
But rather find core of stillness inside
And trust to Sherpa, not own impatience.
Categories:
wingspan, art, culture, mountains, philosophy,
Form:
Rubaiyat
Adrift upon the ocean
bob a bunch of resting birds.
What is it that they call themselves?
A flock or school or herd?
Could it be this feathered colony
is a band or horde at best
No screeches, calls or gaggling,
they don’t brood or crowd or nest
Spread out like black freckles,
birds are shuffled by default.
Flavoring the ocean
dash of pepper to sea’s salt
Not gliding like mighty albatross
with wingspan strong and wide.
Or dancing with the currents
right by the dolphins side
Just floating in the middle
between the blue and green
Neither soaring in the heavens
or a coral dance routine
And there, what’s that beneath them,
beyond their paddling feet
Just some strange attraction?
Or friends they’re yet to greet.
A sudden splash of water!
Could it be a pod of whales?
Or the giggle of a baby seal,
nipping at their tails.
Will they look right through the jellyfish,
that flash and throb and group
to the gathering bunch of mackerel
congregating in the soup
But no, they’re not much bothered
by the party in full swing.
They just gossip amongst each other
While cleaning weathered wings
Waiting for the wind to change
On the ocean they sit tight
Regaining all that energy
needed to take flight
So what's its name, this party?
Of primp and craning necks.
In the skies they flock together
On the ocean, they’re a wreck!
Categories:
wingspan, bird, children, nature,
Form:
Quatrain
steller's sea eagle
perching on frozen birch tree~
stargazing at dawn
17 March 2022
Syllables checked at howmanysyllables.com
Bird Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
1st place
Notes: Steller’s sea eagle, one of the world’s largest raptors, with a wingspan of nearly three meters. There are no more than 5,000 of these magnificent birds worldwide and nearly half the population congregates on the sea ice in Hokkaido, Japan each winter.(britanicca.com)
Categories:
wingspan, appreciation, bird, sea,
Form:
Haiku
White winged creatures in flight across the blue
Their wingspan peaceful slicing through thin air
They've no use for the likes of me and you
Of our troubles seagulls shrug just don’t care
Their wingspan peaceful slicing through thin air
Our hustle seems to them frightly cliché
Of our troubles seagulls shrug just don’t care
Won't bother to give us the time of day
Our hustle seems to them frightly cliché
Lessons learnt for a life without confine
Won’t bother to give us the time of day
Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine
Lessons learnt for a life without confine
They've no use for the likes of me and you
Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine
White winged creatures in flight across the blue
AP: 3rd place 2022
Submitted on November 24, 2019 for contest SEAGULLS by EVE ROPER - RANKED 2ND
Categories:
wingspan, bird, blue, freedom, life,
Form:
Pantoum
Oh newborn king
to whom we the angels sing
You have left your throne
To become a man.
If sadness in heaven is such a thing.
Then we the Angels are beginning to understand.
You look so vulnerable, weak and tiny
But we know that you are invincible, fearsome and mighty.
Your all authoritative voice has shook the earth
Humbling emperors to their lowly worth.
Seas have been parted
Cities have been destroyed
With your spirit soldiers have shouted down a wall.
Your anointed nations have stood against those deployed
Only for they to return to their own and watch their nation fall.
You'll stand upon Zion
and roar like a lion.
Every tongue will confess to the great l am,
but for now only a few shepherds know
that a good shepherd will grow
To become the sacrificial lamb.
Oh how holy you are
That man has only known afar.
Now wise men kneel with gifts as you
sleep under a star.
Yes you our beloved, it's always been you.
Now let our wingspan
stretch across the land
in honor of what you have come down to do.. It is finished....
Categories:
wingspan, creation, religion,
Form:
Epic
How fast time has fled in limitless wingspan
How months and years have merged into eons
Bringing such changes, so awesome and spectacular
I have come swinging open the iron gates
Of the Netherworld where I have been asleep
For over the last four centuries from now
From my prolonged slumber, I am just awake
With my memory intact as in the days
I walked the London streets on my way to Globe theatre
And roamed through the streets of Stratford on Avon
Here, I stand stunned like a Rip wan winkle
Wistfully staring at a world so strange
Wondering how in place of shacks, skyscrapers stand!
How the serene villages into bustling habitats made!
How the frilled frocks into jeans and shirts changed!
Seeing the changes that have come over now
I can only remain perplexed and “tongue tied”,
An expression I used long time back, but still in vogue
Happy I am to revisit the literate of the world
Especially members of my own clan;
My friends of Poetry Soup who wield their pen
To see words are latticed like filmy cobwebs
In diverse poetic forms, on themes and subjects varied
And in rhyming sonnets, my favorite poetic form
Though I stand in a remote and distant tract of time
So happy you still remember me and hail me as an immortal bard
And you name the young lovers- 'Romeo and Juliet'
And write on their amorous romance in honeyed rhyme
You call selfish and cunning people as ‘Iago’
And exclaim on being betrayed- “You too Brutus”
When you are confronted with problems insurmountable
Like Hamlet, you ask the million-dollar question-
“To be or not to be”
My friends, this is my parting words to you
You may live by fame as I do
Through verse, your name you eternalize!
When dead and in solitary vaults you lie
May your verses ring clear in umpteen hearts
And produce echoes that time cannot stifle.
Jan. 13.2023
~Placed First~
Shakespeare in 2023 Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Categories:
wingspan, appreciation, change, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
While passing through the sunken gardens;
On my way, after lunch;
A great bird, wings outstretched,
Came down from the sky, all hunched.
With wingspan between four to five feet;
He stopped me in my tracks.
His eyes met mine; they locked there;
That giant hawk of black.
From side to side he danced;
On one leg at a time.
While flapping wings, up and down;
The dance was just sublime.
For three minutes full, he danced; since then I’ve been told;
that it was a mating dance; my God, he was bold!
Categories:
wingspan, animal, appreciation, bird, dance,
Form:
Sonnet