Long Aerie Poems
Long Aerie Poems. Below are the most popular long Aerie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aerie poems by poem length and keyword.
You are like a dandelion;
Submerged by seeds of life,
But once all that was precious was gone,
You were nothing but a centre longing.
Remember how heavy I once was with colour,
My petals that were incapable of growing any duller.
The children that would pass by calling flower,
The rest calling weed, a label that wouldn't tower.
A sun which so eagerly would send its beams,
A life so innocent it seems.
My petals now scattering wishes to those around,
My dandelion clock grew larger but I am bound.
I am lighter, but i am less.
A new version of myself, is this for the very best?
A colour still so vivid but no longer primary,
Why must I be the aerie for these seeds.
Overcome with joy, the children return to do their deeds.
Bringing me to their mouth, to blow my exterior, leaving me bare.
My cypselae sawing through the air to restart the cycle else where.
Yet for me I'm dropped down, disregarded without a thought.
My dandilion clock- or so they call it, had reached its end.
A wish for each child that I would lend,
But nothing more for me in the end.
I stand still while children laugh, filled with glee.
My petals transformed, my colour drained.
I ached, my body that was strained-
Missing its purpose. Missing its petals and new beauty.
The wishes given away, in trade for happiness thats my duty.
My second form as a flower, repurposed I am.
But was this what I wanted or was i just being stolen from.
Eagles Mate For Life
Written: by Tom Wright
10-26-20219
A pair of Bald Eagles at watch over aerie,
safe from predators except their own kind.
Any intrusion makes these birds wary,
but a simple fly by these two won’t mind.
They sit this moment guarding two eggs,
glaring intently at sky and water below.
Won’t be long now before a fledgling begs,
for a fish dinner that will see them grow.
Only 50% of fledglings survive the first year,
and they’re considered fortunate to be alive.
America’s national bird that can instill fear,
its message is only the strongest will survive.
Poet will use all it takes
To travel our works all over the world
Meeting poet celebrities with handshakes
The ones figurative words twirled
Monsters of us flowing lakes
Our works will run connections in water
Illuminating the littles fishes, escape route
From sharped eyes shark hunting freshwater
Calmly steady in its hangry pursuit
But, for grace, we set in as an arbiter
To quench the supposed fruitful fire
Burning to capture the sweet corn
And fry in belle's pot off any release desire
Hosting bile duct(s) at morn
Now, left with no choice than to retire
Poets transcend above anointing
Of been referred to pastors
For the unction is beyond appointing
One a specific role of facing disasters
But our pens touch lives pastors keep avoiding
With or without money
Time knows hatred
How sweet is honey
Whenever bliss coexisted
To keep blood runny
And avoid the sand
To bury all living dreams
We paint our future's brand
Of lasting awesome themes
Test of time will certainly withstand
Even making her some teases in irony
Birthed out of culture to check her paraliepsis
And lay her presence low to my scrutiny
To balance the unexpected result; an equation of antithesis
Her waist shall turn me around in hyperbole
Like no other would cooking up imagery
My soul's eyes view colossally
To dwell in her secretive aerie
Gladly will I toast words
The day I put on the way to the altar
And put off the doubt of timing birds
Which could rent my pen to halter
Then find in my pieces buzzwords
Oh! When she shall finally accept
Our loves been one, may err
And we shall not be affected
Then poet's love for her
Till the end of time will never be defeated
I walked with a giant today along a rippling mountain stream.
He's been my friend for years, I hold Him in high esteem!
Tho' at times I've strayed from His sheltering love and care,
He always welcomes me back, His fellowship willing to share!
I walked with a giant today and we talked of many things.
His voice as calm and soothing as angelic orchestral strings.
He took my hand when I tripped over obstacles along the trail.
His solicitude was so tender for this mortal man so frail.
I walked with a giant today - He was concerned about brotherhood.
He sadly mused, "Why can't humankind turn from evil and do good?
Oh! If only folks to one another would strive to be less cruel!
This could be, if only they'd abide by The Golden Rule!"
I walked with a giant today - He showed me the grandeur of Creation.
Magnificent tor and bountiful plain created for our inspiration.
Towering trees, pristine lakes, sleek cattle of the prairie.
The majestic golden eagle surveying his domain from its aerie!
The giant I strolled with today was my friend Jesus of Galilee.
Though unseen, His presence was as real to me as could be!
What a guide, what a pal, a true and trusted friend indeed!
An understanding and compassionate friend to turn to when in need!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Honorable Mention in the "Poem of Faith" Contest - June 2010
I welcome the rising sun from the comfort of my aerie,
Surveying my domain - the mountains, streams and verdant prairie!
I preen my feathers and flex my wings for another day of flight,
Soaring o'er God's vast creation cherishing everything in sight!
Ah! To behold the ever-changing panorama unfolding 'neath my wings!
Ye mere mortals can only dream of the magnificence of such things!
Shimmering lakes (from which later for lunch I'll snag a trout)!
Below, herds of bison and groups of deer with fawns gamboling about!
Heard are dulcet hymns of water rushing o'er stones in meandering streams.
Distant snow-capped mountains glistening in the sun's radiant beams!
I settle atop a Colorado spruce to rest and muse upon my situation;
I'm so honored to have been selected as the emblem of this great nation!
With the people of this land, I share vigor and farsighted vision.
Even with its flaws, democracy will be sustained - this is what I envision!
I take time to gaze at the grandeur of the sun settling in the west,
Another glorious mural by the Master Artist so beautifully expressed!
I soar on gentle breezes back to my aerie atop the mountain tor,
And fold my wings and dream of soaring to greater heights once more!
Won lst Place in PoetrySoup Contest - Jul 2020
The majestic eagle preens itself as a brilliant new day is born,
Flexing its lithesome wings to prepare for its daily bourne.
The rising sun enhances it exquisite gilded plumage.
Gentle zephyrs will uphold its wings, its flight to assuage.
From atop a craggy tor where nestles its rustic aerie,
It surveys its domain, rugged mountain and rolling prairie.
From its lofty perch, it spots vistas mere man will never see,
Anon to ride the surging winds, its earthly bonds to flee!
Stretching its powerful wings ready to begin the day,
It sets about that eternal quest to seek its daily prey.
Aerobatic savvy it will use and hunting skills it will test,
To fill is needs and the gaping maws of eaglets in the nest!
Other winged creatures flee when its clarion scream is heard.
'Tis perilous to invade the territory of this raptorial bird.
The august eagle displays a most imposing aerial ballet,
As it swiftly and silently descends upon its hapless prey!
It is apt that the eagle is the symbol of these United States.
There are so many venerable traits that in each equates.
Cleared-eyed vision, firm resolve and imposing nobility,
Meeting all challenges and dangers with stalwart versatility!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
As I soared at forty-thousand feet strapped in the aluminum-tubed aerie,
Racing through my skull was a tune made famous by Peter, Paul and Mary!
They made leaving on a jet plane sound so very romantic and swell!
Contrary to their soothing ballad, mine was the flight from hell!
Ah, the thrill of going through the security check still lingers,
Recalling a most "touching" pat-down by Freddy Feely Fingers!
I had to remove my belt, shoes and the change from my pockets,
And open my carry-on bag to prove I had no guns or rockets!
I was "squoze" betwixt two guys leaning on my shoulders snoring!
One was built like Hulk Hogan - the other as fat as Herman Goring!
A squalling kid hollered for the entire trip! I suffered beyond belief!
I ordered a Manhattan on the Rocks in hopes of finding blessed relief!
About the flight, I told Betty Boop the attendant, "I'm tired of this fuss!
Next time I travel I'll skip all this nonsense and ride a Greyhound bus!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
NOTE: I've suffered through many such flights wondering if the agony
would ever end!
Entry for Debbie Guzzi's "Songs to Poetry" Contest
Hello daybreak, good gracious sunrise!
the many harbingers of life
seamless at the hems like satin threads
weaving carpets of morn's carousel rides…
fluffy,
fluted
and fiery.
This journey embedded by walks
where dewdrops upon toes
tickle on the grandeur of new dreams--
a magical discovery enshrined
on souls bathed in the brink of hope:
if your time is like mine
varnished as the radiant sunrise
hiding beneath aerie branches of hillsides
powerful yet gentle--
then sing with me,
till the light breaks into million auroral strobes
while baby clouds knight leaps of a heart
and smile at the fondle of twirling leaves.
Ring the bell for some minutes as a roulette
of glossed frames wend through an endless, sinless blaze…
slowly,
softly,
subtly.
Contest:Silent One's Sunrise or Sunset
2/17/2018
I arrived tonight in
Gesthemane
With Stories to tell and
things to become
You, you remained
In vigil
Adrift in your aerie,
A bright laconic moon
I have come to drink
Deliberately
And take from you
Take the silence you offer
A Silent cup
To all who wander
With stories buried
Here in this garden
I wait in your reflection ,
under your umbrella
In wait for word
Of
Your
Blessing
word does not come
So I wander
through this garden
To the edge of the horizon
where water meets the night.
here, now, I see what
Faces me
Illuminated of the moon
Reflected back at me
Flesh and tendon are
Twisted and disfigured
In a monstrous frame
The bones of it frighten me
Awash in new light
Unable to tell if
I've been broken free by moonlight
or merely revealed
choices to be made
Freedom on my tongue
And the wind at my back
I remember that the night is cool
And the night is young
And so with rumours of what lies ahead spinning in my head,
I run
I run with
The forest behind me,
I run towards the fine horizon,
Thin and opaque
The stately ash by the fence that provided welcome summer shade,
Has exchanged its sheltering leaves of opulent jade,
To don an elegant golden robe for a few short-lived days.
Its brilliance is enhanced by the sun's mellow autumn rays.
October winds took their toll exposing bole and limbs so stark,
Revealing uplifted arms as if in supplication from its wrinkled bark.
Where once upon my emerald lawn, frisky squirrels skittered,
Now, with a golden carpet, my sloping lawn is littered.
A wizened "hooty owl" has claimed the treetop as its aerie,
Silhouetted against a harvest moon, creating a scene so eerie.
Mellow moonbeams caress the tree forming a delicate shadow,
That creeps across the lawn as the moon flaunts its nocturnal show!
A family of robins that nested in the tree providing me with delight,
Have long since departed on their annual southerly flight.
Sturdy limbs where chattering finches put on a grand show,
Will soon be adorned with glistening garlands of snow.
Tho' each autumn the foliage from the ash will disappear,
And its outstretched limbs now present a picture so austere,
I'm confident that the ever-caring Creator this coming spring,
Will again adorn my tree in green for another season's fling!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)