Hawks Poems - Poems about Hawks

Matsuo Basho: English translations of haiku about clouds, geese, departing, empty nests and huts, lonely, loneliness, drinking alone, sake, longing, loss, death, hawks, the moon, Japanese culture. As clouds drift apart, so we two separate: wild geese departing. —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch The old nest deserted, how empty now my next-door neighbor’s hut. —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch Yesterday? Departed, like...

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Near the yard, I heard the mother bird's loud cluck, A signal to pull a sly trick on the hick. Yuck! Her chicks all ran wild and scampered amok, Scattered by the bumpkin swinging a big stick. The dispersed chicks drew a cast of circling hawks, That were happy to see meals within their grasp....

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An advent of raptors loiters over mall roofs. hooded eyes scope the neon-lit spaces, the concreted waste lands. We wake to their screams as if this were High Sierra, not Ohio where parent’s try-out or manage children, open party stores, hunker through the coming and going of baby Jesus; de-ice puffer jackets. Gloom is plowed behind snow dunes. The red-tails roam in loose...

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Giant hawk snatched me up Flew me across the cornfield I wriggled violently, fighting her talons Expected to fall into a soft hay mow We passed dozens of them I was shocked that her talons had such a grip She held me for twenty or thirty minutes I tried jiggling, wiggling She did not release me I admired her tenacity She delivered me to her...

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seaguls in the sea ~low expectatations to reach~ easy life to live eagles above clouds ~small eyes with a big vision~ catch life at first sight ...

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Gentle winds, drift drift gently this hawk above the waters, brown like the clay of earth's marble realm. I saw the dance of crows as I rose, far beyond reach from the sight of golem eyes of haughty men breached, by the lies of serpents and swine. How divine was the moment when a hand lifted my brow from the depths, to the east where my true call was, a...

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Did you shout out in shock that day as she suddenly stuck her spiked heel into your spine kicking you to the curb through the open car door before slamming her foot on the gas and speeding away tires shrilly squealing leaving you lying there by the roadside red faced in disgrace your heart shattered your brain...

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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. The mountains are also home to young and ibex. Nothing...

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Counting perching hawks trying to watch what they watch while a speeding car beneath tense feet races to overtake whatever blocks each sideways glance. Fifty percent of all bird songs go unrecorded. Multiplexed avian modulations leave us questioning our own questions. Pylons loop their feelers, thread fragments of electric birdcalls into sun-slashed glass. Eyes wide trying to stay alert to the dangers a highway offers as...

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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 row By workers in torn jeans, with strong hands, made to...

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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 day...

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The hawks are gathered together, pulling apart a dove, eating her gladly. Her shrieks and screams do not count as she is the wrong color. She was caught at the border. They have put her dove-lets in cages. To be eaten later, at their convenience. Discussion after dinner turns to assault rifles. Home-one is against it, but he is “old-school”. ...

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Why do I like things I can’t agree with Why do I listen when I don’t want to hear Why am I attracted to things that repel me Why are my reasons more muddled than clear Why do I often begin at the ending Why do I hurt the people I love Why are my questions confused by my answers Why do my hawks —always turn into doves (Villanova Pennsylvania: July,...

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To the ladies, my youth To the children, my love But to forever, my words Hawks that fly —with the doves (Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)...

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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 waters. Returning red robins round up ripe raspberries in Rhode Island. 4/1/2019...

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