silver feather drifts,
breaking through stillness of light
calm courage takes flight.
in the evening air,
soft strength glows beneath the stars~
peace becomes its spark.
The call
of the wide-open prairie
Where nothing moves
but the wind
A man can be truly
alone here
To chase
what forever begins
One feather
to bless my transcendence
My horse painted proudly
I ride
In search of the great
Wakan Tanka
Whose trail leads me past
— the divide
(Songs Of The Lakota: August, 2026)
Feather
autumn gold dust
bound under old papers
I never threw your things away
still here
Personal Challenge:
Theme: Relationships
Emotion: Grief
Color: Gold
Season: Autumn
Form: Cinquain
Object: Feather
Verb: Bound
Funny how you figure things out as time shapes true intentions.
So, so, funny how some think you're gullible because you have aged.
Funnier still that some think you buy their stories in all their glory.
Funniest of all, I figured it all out because of a little tweety bird and his pretty cage.
A blue feather floats into my dreams,
Carried by the storm, it softly gleams;
Angry clouds gather in the heavens,
They seem they're at sixes and sevens;
Earth bound, the blue feather crashes hard...
Falling from bed, I find my dreams jarred!
a white feather turns
in the stillness of the empty station~
slow spiral,
soft drift,
a small brightness
mapping the quiet air
as if the room
were breathing it.
small bird flies above
one single feather floats down
gracefully landing
Girl with Peacock Feather Eyes
gentle upward tilt that cries
You come to me at night
unaware of my plight
Regality in every look you sigh
my peacock-feathered girl
Lashes that ensnare
A courtship call laid bare
Come forth, Ceylon's pearl
become my peacock-feathered girl
Imagination comes undone
You corner me, defenceless with those eyes
The royal Mughal halls would not compare
to my mirror in which you stare
You are moonlight to my thoughts. Untether me, my dear
These peacock-feathered eyes will keep me here.
Soaring so high
fanning the fire
spontaneity angel
of infinite desire.
Sampling the grain
exposing the
straight jacket gang...
love spilling shade
spitting lye and blue rain.
Then they deem you insane.
What they can't control
what they can't contain
they shame into silence then cage
feather and flame
sweet feather and flame.
Feather and flame
golden heart splayed then flayed.
On silver sleeves of stained-glass dreams.
They wish to stain the tigress untamed
what they can't control
what they can't conceive
to blind to see
monolithic egos
of white-hot conceit.
Feather and flame
flying so high
cornucopia of love
Capricorn on fire.
A meteor shower
chandelier cutting the gray
robin egg sky
feather and flame.
Feather and flame
precious petal ordained.
zig-zagging soul
sparkling eye
torn and alone
just another name
on a forgotten stone.
Gray wings beat the air.
Her feathers refract the sun.
Girl, where you going?
I breathe out and the world sighs too.
Gravity dissolves, my peace is anew.
Sunlight caresses my arms, as the sky takes a knee.
Rain drips slow, rolling so gently.
Thoughts fall flat, smooth like silk.
Butterfly flutters in my stomach until,
I smile and rove lifting off the ground--
All worries disperse, cannot be found.
Space unwinds, corners blur,
My aura is brilliant, enough to stir.
A joint burns low and tranquility flows deep.
Floating in green, in peace, keep.
My muse says her name is Heather
She refuses to work in bad weather
So if hot or cold
She’s got to go
Leaving me with only her feathers
This house like a mother
a womb to curl into
a place calling for
prayers for the dead
I am an open book
a bible with torn pages
This house like a mother
whose heart is worn
outside the stars
live with hope
of better days
No sleep in the round
snail room, her spiral
empty and full
there is no one
who knows
the song of sorrow
except the raven
Starbird
Death, the only outcome
of living and choosing
we who love wisely and
we who don't
Bring back the magic
my son, my daughter,
my child who cries in the night
where the wild coyotes mourn
In the distance I listen
behind the mauve adobe wall
written across my chest
I find this poem
late into the night
with blue feathered tears.
The woman, a feather
She flows in the wind
Plucked from her nest
And strewn from end to end
Dipped in ink
And signed to me
A letter a word a verse to see
She flutters and shivers with each passing chill
And yet i love her without any thrill
From calmest passing's
To darkest night
The woman stays
and holds me tight
The world was glass and sudden shadow,
a swift descent from perch to ground.
Not a storm-tossed twig, but domestic claw
that brought the bruised bird down.
Cheesesteak, a mouthful of soft plumage,
a white and black parakeet's brief, bright life,
ending in a velvet rage.
?Stella's darkness, elegant and deep,
four times a hunter in two years' sleep.
But this one, the last, this delicate jewel,
his suffering was a lesson, sharp and cruel.
The existence of a simple, chirping thing,
and the final, silent, battered wing.
We are asked to write from that demise,
to find the truth behind the hollow cries.
And so we write the bruise, the tear,
the memory of flight that ended here.
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