Long Raptor Poems
Long Raptor Poems. Below are the most popular long Raptor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Raptor poems by poem length and keyword.
I glide with agility and swiftness from azure height
With keen eyes intent on finding a morsel to devour
My screeching cries are echoed as blaring screams
On pinioned wings, I fly where hidden quarry lies
My shadow is feared by many on hills and fields
I watch tiny feet scurry in search of a place to hide
I am a red-tailed hawk, who's feathered plumage
is crimson as if painted by a master artist's hand
Songbirds stop trilling when I soar in the sky
Dreading they'd be on the menu as my next meal
My feathers have often made a fine poet's quill
I am beautiful and wild, revered, brazen and bold
With sharp talons, I am perched on an aspen branch
Meadow grasses beneath me, I search with inspection
I am a bird of prey that some have labeled a 'raptor'
but I'm busy building a nest with the help of my mate.
I can recall another lifetime, one where I could fly
Gazing down upon the earth, moonlight glinting in my eye
A king among the stars with a piercing call that could terrify
I was once a mighty falcon, a raptor of the sky
Soaring majestically brought exhilarating thrills
Cruising deep valleys and magnificent hills
Preparation for the hunt was how I honed my skills
The sweat and toil all worthwhile when the blood finally spills
I patiently stalked my prize below; death was now en route
My mind made up instantly, my focus absolute
Diving at breakneck speed was my key attribute
Blazing through the clouds, the Reaper’s in hot pursuit
The thrill of the hunt, an innate yearning since ancient Babylon
My prey chirped sweet melodies until he was sprung upon
I clasped him tightly within my powerful talon
His life force swiftly dispatched as his soul journeyed to Avalon
Moments after my car crash, I was overcome with visions so clear
Echoes of a life I lived before I ended up here
Memories flooded back, and down my cheek rolled a welcome tear
For this alternate existence, I once held so dear
A past life as a falcon engulfed my human brain
Vast skies were my territory, my conquered domain
I embraced the rasping wind and a deluge of torrential rain
This incredible revelation has numbed all my agonising pain
I was once quite different from the man that lies here now
I've awoken from this human dream, and I just can’t comprehend how
Fortunately, my injuries are just too severe, so it’s time to take a bow
As I long to return to those blue skies once more, that’s my dying vow
Gushing garish grin greets God’s playhouse
Enthusiastic thrust roars cacophony chorus
Onyx walls leer clown mouth, splash pounce
Mountain morose bellows waterfall raucous
Forceful pools swirl, gentle raptor glide
Cyclonic claws tug a dunked daredevil
Pop up toast, poured tea tropical slide
Drop dagger deluge, strange fish swivel
Trapped in green marble pummel frigid
Tap of gurgling bubbles bores odsidian
Eye to eye with cruel cassowary, my inquiry
Why chase your young away, are you afraid?
Aghast grips his cobalt throat, furnace fiery
Answer slips from stone, thrown to cascade
4th July
Forceful Judge
something small almost imperceptible is crawling across the porch
I have to get closer to see it; it is a tiny bug, so small it has no color
I wonder if my dogs have noticed; but they are asleep, not caring
leaves of my lilac tree capture my attention next; they seem to shimmer.
a different color on the back, kind of a silver sheen.
a tiny wren or sparrow flies downward; this interests me.
Birds usually fly up, unless there is rain water to dabble in.
This one landed on the edge of the cat door and promptly went inside.
Does she have a nest in my garage? This was curious.
She went in that flap as if it was her flap.
there is a whoo whoo whoo sound now
an owl in the afternoon? My ears struggle to hear.
Yes, it is an owl. In the day time? They are nocturnal!
Whoo Whoo Whoo; a third call.
This was remarkable.
A large shadow of a raptor brings my eyes skyward.
It is huge, black, a turkey buzzard?
Now there are two, now three, my final count is six.
They are circling above the marsh. Is there something dead?
I shudder.
One of my dogs is having a daymare. He is shuddering.
I lean down and pat him a bit, to reassure him.
The crows are a feathered crowd,
a dark cloud
jostled together as they are
over the roadkill.
They peck and tear
lift a little in the air
allowing another beak
to stab at a morsel.
Black wings
iridescent in the morning light
flutter in the cram and bustle of
their feeding.
Above them a lone hawk
watches from a high perch.
If it swooped to steal a crumb
form the crows table
it would be instantly mobbed
made to flee
swerve and dodge
the anger of the many.
The raptor waits,
for the crows will eventually
fall to bickering and dissent,
some will fly away cawing
others will strut the highway
seeking more edible scraps.
Then the hawk will descend
rummage the remains
and fly off
with a hard won piece of gristle
content to be
the king of its invisible castle
that is
until the riotous corvids return again
to claim its throne.
The squirrel had been hollowed out
only skull, skin and bones remained.
I have learned to inspect the dead.
Physical remains
have secrets for the living.
In Kentucky I watched a hunter
‘dress’ a deer.
The warm meat fell apart
as if cooperating
under his skilled knife work.
While he cut
he spoke of last meals and old wounds;
of the age and fitness of the animal.
This squirrel had not died of age,
a raptor had mauled and dropped it
as fresh carrion for it and other’s.
The eye-sockets of the cadaver
had filled with recent rain
a ray of sunlight gleamed -
made the skull blink.
I stage-blinked back.
Post-mortem blinks are a curtain-call.
For none know how or when
on that dire brink, if we are left
with one last wink
from the very knife-edge of life.
The nervous man
Slight awkward stance
Waiting for a train
Talking to the rain
Is he mad?
Is he sad?
A broken heart?
How many times has his life been torn apart?
He doesn’t fit in
Fashion and style were never his thing
His glasses, dark brimmed sixties style
A cardigan under the coat
His fathers before his no doubt!
The nervous man
Avoiding eye contact with his fellow man
Looking at the floor
Concrete’s concrete for ever more!
A kestrel for some reason lands
Walks up to the nervous man
He doesn’t know what to do
Does the raptor just wants some food?
It stands in front of him
Starts pecking at his ankle and shin?
He tries to shoo it away
But this falcon means to stay
It flies around his face
It tries to peck his face
His glasses fall and crack
He tries to run away and crushes them under foot
He bumps into a man and that makes him run closer to the track
He slips and lands on the line
People try but there is no time!
The kestrel watches and leans over to make sure?
It turns and sees me looking at it for sure!
It then flys up to my seat and sits looking hard at me
Then it flies and hovers in front of me
I stand and take a step back to see
Then it frantically pecks hard at the plastic screen
It then flies up and sits on a pole
Dumbfounded I look at the damage done
I see beyond the holes in the plastic cover to what is underneath
A lost notice for a pretty girl
I look closer at the story next to her face
I can’t believe and through the commotion on the platform look up to see the kestrel on its perch
He’s gone and I turn back to see
The young girl missing and I re-read the story in front of me
She was fifteen and had a unique hobby indeed!
For she was a falconer and her Kestrel was called ‘Mercy’
What does it matter if I get it wrong
The media still loves me as I gallop along,
I cause such big waves, more than the sea
A masterful stroke as they all look to me.
I’m a creature of spin a natural disruptor,
A wily young fox, a dangerous raptor.
Step in my path and you’ll wish you weren’t born,
Battered and bruised, sorely forlorn.
They say I’m still green, a flash in the pan
Clearly all missing my brilliant game plan.
Wait a few years cause lots of noise
Mask my ambition with feminine poise;
Gather my fans, make them a force,
Have them promote me until they are hoarse,
Then all at once as if pre-ordained
Challenge the leadership and leave them bloodstained.
Not a surprise I’ll be the one standing
Now the top job clearly demanding.
So stick around, follow my thread,
Swallow the fact that by me you’ll be led.
Just off the busy road there’s a dirt lane
that leads to a weather-worn covered bridge
where Red Tails gather at eventide.
In the sunlight the birds flicker on hot winds,
rest and watch on pylons and poles,
then rise to hover
over berms and hedgerows along the highway
driving small birds and field mice
into the shelter of scrub and thicket.
At days end they convene;
shake corn-dust from their wings,
bathe in the creek's shallow waters,
then the hawks perch
along the eaves of the bridge
while its oak rafters retreat to shade.
I arrive as the late evening
paints one last aureate sheen
over the slow rippling stream.
Hawks hunt alone - an acreage of sky
can support but one raptor.
I have photographed them many times
as they swooped and spiraled
scything the sky
with their swift-winged threats.
In this light a different picture emerges;
the row of muted birds could be sleeping
yet their eyes are wide open, alert.
A last twilight gleaming
briefly reveals their sentinel forms,
now in the gloom, only their eyes can be seen -
each one a blood-red sunset.
O web of guesses woven:
Divine: dichotomy?
Set aside, O witch coven?
Fire, O fancy-free!
Sulfur fumes, metallic grey.
Gold to separate.
Stir it well, heat, wait: a day.
Dole, O disparate.
O crystals, are you flexible?
Relative to some.
Rule of thumb, O parda gull?
Lightly beat thy drum.
Spritely fly, O peregrine!
The raptor closes in!
Talons clash and beaks tear skin!
Battles to begin!
Wind, slip through space. Melee, machine.
Thunderbolt, thy storm.
Turtle, snap. Core? Carapace.
Living room, keep warm...
Tympani, roll. Gaol? Golden bowl.
Broken arrow, fly.
Pining, princess? Sign and soul!
Horn, blow back and fry!
Black bell and book? Crook. Lore a-look.
Ritual, outward point.
Bishop, are you worth that rook?
Pain of loss, anoint...
Seeker, reveal. Heat lightning, peal.
Dark fire, in me sing.
Flame aquatic, burn bright teal.
Oxidize thy sting...