Quotes about swoop, page 7
The Red Flag
Where the quivering lightning flings
His arrows from out the clouds,
And the howling tempest sings
And whistles among the shrouds,
'Tis pleasant, 'tis pleasant to ride
Along the foaming brine—
Wilt be the Rover's bride?
Wilt follow him, lady mine?
Hurrah!
For the bonny, bonny brine.
Amidst the storm and rack,
You shall see our galley pass,
As a serpent, lithe and black,
Glides through the waving grass.
As the vulture swift and dark,
Down on the ring-dove flies,
You shall see the Rovers bark
Swoop down upon his prize.
Hurrah!
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poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Winter Fancies
I
Winter without
And warmth within;
The winds may shout
And the storm begin;
The snows may pack
At the window pane,
And the skies grow black,
And the sun remain
Hidden away
The livelong day--
But here--in here is the warmth of May!
II
Swoop your spitefullest
Up the flue,
Wild Winds--do!
What in the world do I care for you?
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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Fog Holds Lights
FOG HOLDS LIGHTS
Fog holds lights in soft hands stroking
the bay, floating across waters alive
with flickering rays. The night air whispers
of ancient sand castles and the gleam
of small stars stirring the romance of darkness.
It clings faithfully to the rise and fall
of waves washing in, swinging to
the rhythm of a sea singing love songs.
Fog holds lights in soft hands, clasps love
in tender touches, grasps hope in strong
fingers as it rolls in. Reality
blurs, an impressionist painting
lying just under the murky paint of fog.
Fog holds light in soft hands, embraces
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poem by Raynette Eitel
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A Pirate Hooks
My craving lands like a pirate horde
grappling onto my fleeing ship
swinging on ropes
til they board
in critical numbers
large enough
to overwhelm
my resistance.
They all have the same face
and while my sword is sharp and swift
I'm soon overcome by desire mixed
as pirate laughter rings
throughout my ship
reminding me of what
I like about pirates
and their lust.
For pirates
live on the edge,
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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7/11 Mumbai
in the deep recess
far away from the light
lives a neanderthral.
a giant in size,
mind firmly lent
to the nether of ideas
and morals,
the neanderthral
was
but human in shape.
the neanderthral
got envious of a tiny
tree,
'lop it i must',
he said to himself.
tree and i cannot
stay together.
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poem by Samyak Jain
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One more time for M'lady Ernestine
I yearn to see the dragons fly.
Just one more time before I die
As I did so long ago.
Around Mount Kilimanjaro
I slept beneath the moonlit sky
and often saw the dragons fly.
It was a privilege to see
the dragons dancing gracefully
But I fell ill and had to go
back to the city far below.
Where the doctors treating me
convinced me it was fantasy.
Induced by fever of the brain.
When I was fully fit again
a crisis in the family.
Meant that I was no longer free
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Journey By a Cable Car (Badrinath)
Why the pines are pining
when the Auli Bugyal is smiling
with pollen strewing blossoms
in the diffused rays of the sun?
Before the snowy slabs
get paved over the sloping hills,
the whole grassy stretch gleams
with newly sprung up shoots
and waves in joy in the cool breeze
that steels into the telpher
and brings cheer to us all.
“On whom to swoop down
the vulture is soaring? ”
When we were out of the car,
we sauntered towards the hilltop,
and lay on its lush green lap,
Looking at the sailing clouds
which hit on the sky high peaks,
tumble, trundle and dash at the vapour clouds
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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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See, If You Can......
See, if you can really see
The wilderness of history
The paths leading to Macedonia are dust-engulfed
' Alexanders of Fate' have vanished
The reverbrating footfalls
Around the nail of Konya
Are now reduced to lifeless echoes of a timeless moment
No dervish has stamina left in his spinning heel
Brightly lit up streaks have dimmed
Serial dances have all been obliterated
Eagles swoop down over Baghdad
The sharp edge of Damascus weapons are now blunt
See, if you can really see
The depths of your dreams
Have growing forests of poison-besmeared eyes
In place of a throbbing heart
Striped snakes of the New World
Now live in the ancient edifices
resting on pillars of Corinth
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poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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The Grey Goshawk
There is a flutter in the trees,
And now a sudden, dread unease
Stills all the bushland melodies
Amid the gums;
Stills now the song of wren and thrush,
Robin and honeyeater hush.
Now, with a swoop, a whistling rush,
Grey goshawk comes.
I am the threat: the dread king.
Grim Azrael, is on the wing,
And every little living thing
Dares scarce a breath.
And now a parrot, shrill with fear,
Flies dodging there and doubling here
Thro' inlaced limbs, in mad career
From lusting death.
Grey ghost, grey death, I work my will
O'er forest dense, o'er wood hill,
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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THE OWL CAN’T MISS KILLING THE RAT! (An Acrostic)
The owl has landed on the ground,
Honing its clawed-feet, and its beak,
Eyeing the rat that plays so near,
Obviously to take its one kill;
With finesse unmatched and eye-sight,
Looking with its two front-faced eyes,
(Capable of prime night vision) ,
And neck that turns a near circle;
Not making, any kind of noise
’To disturb the innocent rat,
Moving under the owl’s long wings,
Immensely spanned and majestic,
Shadowing the rat from moon-light –
Shining upon a lonely night.
Kindled by hunger-pangs overt,
Innately nocturnally timed;
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poem by John Celes
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