Historical crooner, troll-like in burrows
your eerie cries are supernatural.
Lacking red, yellow and orange
but you shear the air to make up for it.
I walked a few steps around your island once. Got
so tired in a day with sandwiches and pop.
Marvelled at your fifty million mile journey
from Bardsey, (just down the road really) to Brazil, Argentina
and Southern Africa.
You hang on the gale like the washing on my line
and use your super powers to trace the planet.
Crystals of magnetites within the eye
you navigate better than Shackleton.
Ginsberg’s puffin, who cries at the moonlight
come home to me at night.
And you connect for life
and say hello with a kiss.
As old as me
but much wiser I see.
from 'Going Off Grid' 2018
https://amzn.to/2Ei8gUl
Categories:
shearwater, animal, environment, flying, inspirational,
Form: Free verse
The sun yawns in the horizon as it flutters its eyes
Honey – yellow, orange, and shades of red
as it goes into a deep slumber as the moon awakes in the skies.
Heaven vast upon the seas
a pellet of darkest blue violet to a dark inky storm,
Shearwater skim closes the waves in flight by the breeze.
While angels weave and caress in loving warmth
of strength and comfort, an unconditional loving squeeze.
Our Earthly home
Our paradise,
Our Eden,
Our heaven.
A place full of sadness
A place of happiness
A daily reminder
A promise
Heavenly Angels protect,
Meant to be kept for eternity.
Lighting forks across the night skyline,
the rumble of thunder sounds around.
Angels pure of love and where they're most abound.
They're always nigh an angelic sign.
12/30/2017
Categories:
shearwater, faith,
Form: Lyric