Silence is the very meaning of your flight,
A white ghost that screeches and shatters the dark moon.
Feathers that glimmer a dying shade of white,
a heart that answers only to the hunter's elusive tune.
No one suspects you. Black eyes of flaming coal.
Shadows mask your true identity as through the sky you sear,
but in your pumping heart lies a gaping hole,
and for the mouse kingdom you are willing to shed no tear.
The breeze ruffles under your plumage,
whilst inside you whirls the gale only a hunter can fight.
Your talons are gleaming and serve as a badge,
to indicate the blood that has stained your beak from plight.
An unearthly screech rips from your vocals!
Shattering the skies like a mirror into a thousand unlucky shards!
Each master-less tail shall serve as a token,
as you pick off your prey as a player picks off his cards.
What grace lies within your depth,
what poise features in your developed wings and talons!
Away with the song is your heart swept,
you are merciless as the raging ocean is merciless to galleons.
Terrible beauty gleams in your obsidian eyes,
and your beak is curved into utter perfection, into utter murder.
You answer only to your own kind's cry,
your screeches send the mice fleeing into cover and further.
You know only the power of Athene!
And your ears only recognise the family title of 'tuto'.
You are not hear to hear pathetic pleas,
the begging squeals of rodents are of no use and futile.
You are the owl that knows no remorse,
and pursues his prey through the relentless night.
You are one with the night and the gale's force,
as your talons sink into broiling flesh.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry and Lamentations
PoetrySome poems about nature and serene landscapes. I would call it an anthology. However, some poems are Lamentations so therefore, may be quite despairing and upsetting.
