A falcons slow decent
as humanities spiral from righteousness
refusing to lift their wings
for fear of a cold draft
reaching their unshielded form.
Unable to rely on the warmth of the sun
to warm their outstretched limbs,
instead, stubborn in their plummet
assured it is the only way.
Scorning those lower than they,
and fearing those who soar.
Author notes
quote/scripture prompt
A contest entry
- My people, my people... by poetryality.
1750 points, ended December 28, 2007, 9 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Excellent! Often times we are not aware of the power we hold in the palm of our hands. Fear is a tool of the adversary. Old Satan would love for us to have a fear of flying. He knows if we soar on the righteous plane, his dastardly deeds cannot or will not be met. Your poem shares with the reader that there is no reason for anyone to stay planted on the ground. We "plummet" because it is of our own choosing. A grand entry as it relates to the given prompt. Thank you for this post in my contest. It really does not take a slew of words to get a point across. I wish you the best in this comp.
Much Love & Light ♥ † ♥
Renee
Have a Safe and Blessed New Year -
Wow.
Just like the bird itself this piece has a wonderful flowing beauty. Thanks.
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wow, this, i believe, is one of your best poems to date. this is crafted so well it just about leaves me speechless. Amazing poem you have written here! thanks for writing this and sharing it.
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Awesome
this write was totally apropos for this prompt and is a sterling example of less is more. I truly enjoyed reading this. thanx, conni
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