A crescent of high cliffs
rooted into a plateau of heathland.
From all directions cloud mottled wings,
dart between the light and shade -
falcons, their wingspans
aerofoiled for instant chase.
Heads and beaks
seem to part the sky,
as the raptors javelin the air.
Peregrine’s dive through
their own wind-dancing arabesques,
their streaked silhouettes
skimming over the towering rocks.
Camera's gaze to hold and capture,
lens's fishing for those ever passing
bolts of speed.
Malham's soaring cove
seems to be both their nesting
acre of sky,
and a place for plodding minds
to only follow.
Categories:
falcons, poetry,
Form: Free verse
A gray splintering of light,
mottled wings spear the air.
Their heads sharply applied
as if the wind itself tore through
openings in the sky.
The birds circle and swoop,
circle and swoop.
They are not hunting,
a flickering gravity
is their playground,
the rockface their Jacobs ladder.
They spiral high
then a rollercoaster of ecstasy
tips them back toward the earth
as arrows thrown from a bow.
We onlookers
are left hanging from a ledge of vision.
Whomever lets go first
they alone get to take a photograph
of their passing blur.
Categories:
falcons, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The Falcons are a team that is flying high.
Their success is something no one will deny.
When the birds have other teams in their clutches,
their opponents usually walk out on crutches.
Every Atlanta child, woman, and man,
should be proud to be a Falcons fan.
This is a team destined for winning and fame.
Their opposition is left humiliated in shame.
The offense displays a brazen attack.
The defense holds opposing offenses back.
How surprised visiting teams will be
when the Falcons show true southern hospitality.
Robert Pettit For all Atlanta Falcons fans wherever they may be
Categories:
falcons, sports,
Form: Rhyme
A sunny morning
Two falcons are in the sky
Gliding like airplanes!
Categories:
falcons, life, nature,
Form: Haiku
This breezy island is often visited
by falcons with powerful wings,
as they display the swiftness
of their elaborate flights; on the gleaming sand,
I'm laid back and pensive, while my curious dog
scampers to and fro, trying to catch them...
Falcons with powerful wings, on my island blasting with sunshine,
forever dwell to multiply your offspring:
no human ever sets foot on it to avoid dire,
for the steaming soil is too arid, and nothing ever grows,indeed;
and the palm trees can only offer shade
for someone eager to stay,but afraid...
A sunlight as dense as fire
scorches the soft and low dunes,
on the deserted beach I play my melodious tunes;
a capricious, soothing breeze brushes
my suntanned, golden cheeks...
why is this beach the quietest place that instills every desire?
Falcons, roar until the blazing sky disperses its blueness
which attracts your enthusiasm to induce brazenness,
but the arrival of shadows brings dreariness and solitude:
for vultures that are raring to go to a brighter altitude;
only the whimpering ravens huddle on the battered rocks, and wait
for the luminescent sunrise, hoping to flutter in the August's intense heat...
Categories:
falcons, adventure, hope, music, places,
Form: Free verse
The falcons glide out of my heart,
Sipping my last crimson water and indigo tears.
Soar to the empty world, very ravenous,
They yearn to taste the fiery heat of skies.
The falcons dance their Tango.
Flapping wings in joy, fliting with the woeful soil,
Never know when to end;
Hymns of winter, audible as they sing.
The falcons, on holy ground,
Piecing eyes through the curtain to greet the angels.
Their blazing eyes glitter navy blue,
Their souls, serene, a cold sea.
Categories:
falcons,
Form: I do not know?