Vultures Poems - Poems about Vultures

Vultures They circle the sky. Waiting patiently for something to die. Back roads collect roadkill They see far away over the hill Flying creatures from above. A fascinating bird brown in mud. Vultures circling in the air. Where the corpse is, they will gather. A final plague is in place. No fear face to face. ...

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I see beyond the ravenous t a l o n s       of v e n g e...

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There are vultures perched on the lampposts of Florida You can hear their young calling in the morning breeze They search for the desert that was once their home It's forgotten for now, a relic of the past So they just sit and wait...

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Height 6'1", checked. Waist a breath, legs a line, checked. Horned jaws, a sharp decree, checked. Weight, a feather's fallacy, checked. Groomed, primed, pinched, poked, A porcelain doll to be arrayed before the hungry gaze of vultures. A spectacle, framed and bright, Fascination of the surface. This is what life on heels looks like, my dear. The longer...

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The virtues, sacrificed By muscling vices, Lay dying Across the dusty crusts of Earth. The sky, once admirably azure, Now bleeds dark streams of gray Above the sight of flying vultures Flapping, circling in wait....

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Morbid is the choice of murdering heart Crept creeping misdemeanors under developed Killed or be killed vultures Fall into the waters, the seas Ripping up dead salmon 4/9/24 Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024© ...

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Hungry vultures; there were ten, just sitting in a tree One fell out and bit the dust while my wife made my tea Hungry vultures; there were nine, among the leaves so green One chewed dirt as my wife scrubbed the tractor’s tyres clean Hungry vultures; there were eight, just sat there on a branch One dropped off, devoid of...

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In the shadows, harpies linger as agents provocateur, for the Fallen Watchers, for pecking order. Prostitute mercenaries, addicted to mercury and disorder. Their claws sharp, their cries a shiver, their motive insanity from hell's hateful quiver. They pluck you from the light of day, leave you in the flames to barter the fray, to drown in the sea of faith...

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Prices rise, incomes fall Terrorism reigns, nuclear pall Health care declines, rich people dine War everywhere, machine guns whine What happened to ‘peace and love’ When did the vulture devour the dove Where...

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I'm something I'm not proud to be, but what if this something has always been me? What if the monster that crawls in me is just my heart? What if it explodes before I tear it apart? My ruins will fly, like vultures in the sky. Picking on the dirt they find, of the ground and my dead body's hind. I tore papers...

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Committee of Vultures There they sit squabbling Up in a tree or on the ground Waiting greedily for the next carcass Laughing, they don’t care how it got dead Always waiting to rip to shreds Pushing and shoving to be the first They yearn for blood but it's rotting flesh They will pick and pick, till the bones are bare Their sharp beaks, squawk...

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To The One I Lost Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon Placed 3rd --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Like a nymph from Arden, She entered my life’s garden. Like lightning to me, she came; For me, she was an ideal dame. As feminine as a jasmine flower, She found in me a protective bower. I traced sweet nectar in her talk, And a dancing swan in her walk. Her floating...

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silence can be proverbially golden when cracks appear patina can seal the fissures and cradle what is left once speechless bubbles make reason and sense until the arbiter of emotion glows from the dark peace emerges from quietude and honesty as alchemy turns falseness into precious verdicts little birds start talking to a rainbow in between picking at the...

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red mountain stands still black ribbon cuts between you aren't always still not if by faith I can cast you into the sea still is never forever but still we are not so long have I not been the traffic cutting between still to know something I would cast you into the sea but these problems I need red mountain big rough ugly barren pile of rocks you comfort me vultures,...

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At eighty my beloved grandma began buying insane, whimsical things. Filling her house up with all kinds of feathers, glitter, and bedazzled stuff. We’ll have to have a garage sale and get rid of it when she is gone. Or have a bonfire. Lots of laughter. One of her favorite pieces is her new cake plate. Polka dotted with a...

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