PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Across the waves’ savage faces

and across the rocks’ rigid stares,

keening in one sun’s setting:

one seagull. Alone,

singing through the air

- like a knife honed and sharpened

on whet stone and set then

blade tumbling, sun catching

to carve sure arcs of pure bright air



she wings to unwritten rhythms,

this gull,

long sketched in the seas,

wheels within the ageless chants

the winds and rains have freed,

and though caught and ruled by laws

of changing fate and chance

needs no rule to ensure the reign

of her own -  grey wing and timely

inside story

white fire dance.





Seeming Cruel God

if I asked what

it might be

to sing live and fly

wind torn and die

free





would you

tell me?