Sunday, March 6, 2011

Speak

This hurting is an eagle's ache.
with unclipped, unfurled rage hidden inside
a broken break


or beak.
But I've decided to move things along
softly swifly with only
my body, and the wind,
gliding-
no longer will I speak.
Posted by at

3 comments:

  1. JZKnowles-SmithMarch 11, 2011 at 5:03 PM

    You have a very distinct and refreshing voice; I'm enjoying reading through your work. I like this sharp piece in particular.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Poets UnitedMarch 12, 2011 at 7:47 AM

    "This hurting is an eagle's ache" - what a wonderful line! The image of gliding works really well here and gives the reader a lift, as well. Nice to see you here at Poets United.

    ReplyDelete
  3. bttrflyscarMarch 25, 2011 at 6:49 AM

    Thank you, I'm happy to be apart of the group!

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Reach for the clouds. . .

Tickle your toes. . .

  • cryk
    there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
  • travel
    Under a blanket it was at high altitudes in love or nauseous? I once held his hand his touch was so soothing-but with a lion's face. and...
  • flirty
    lean in a little. say it like it's a secret. make your breath sound like italics. click your tongue against the roof your mouth then you...
  • strawberry
    July 12th My love's hands and eyes so full of surprise! he sees nothing wrong with giving me a synthetic strawberry.
  • storm
    driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
  • Day 1 of NaPoWrimo!
    I thought it would be fitting to do an original of mine, but one of it's earlier drafts. I have recently reworked this poem so it includ...
  • small stones
    July 9th i feel like running again. it's either that or swimming in a valley of tears. July 10th you couldn't tell by looking at us,...
  • Day 3
    The Anchor for Joel When love embarks, with its generating propellers slicing through the interminable oceans of imperfection that are, for ...
  • Day 8
    The Opera The eyes of the firing-squad are aimed with lashed cross-hairs for now we, the chorus, all look like oiled up black ducks in a ro...
  • Day 2
    Reminder "You do not seem to understand," they'd say "That rivers are wide, and are not so easily crossed, we fear, they ...

Poets United Contributor