Through the Eyes of Birds

light sweeps across the hills
in a soft glow of slow burn heat

nature consumed by
smoldering ember reds
golden flametip edges
warm coal blacks
and powdered ash whites

there is perfect stillness

bare branches and brackish water
caught in symbiotic static and stasis

silent bedrock moves at glacial pace
greater than gods
gargantuan and ominous
a grand display dissipating into the distance

clouds hang hauntingly above the Manor
wandering into the warm wet air
against the gentle suppression of empty ether

the birds are the observers
regal and reserved
of the meaningless motion of Man
amid the frenzied flourishing of fauna

He Stands at Right Angles with the world,
Raising Flattened Hard pine Walls.
He Creates a Floral Formula of Captive marigolds and oleanders.
He Plots His land with Mathematical Precision.
He is Cold, Calculating, and Consuming.

then a quiet flicker of feathers and flesh
and the Clouds no longer belong

Through the Eyes of Birds [Final?]

light sweeps across the hills
in a soft glow of slow burn heat

nature consumed by
smoldering ember reds
powdered ash whites
golden flametip edges
and warm coal blacks

there is perfect stillness

bare branches and brackish water
caught in symbiotic static and stasis

silent bedrock moves at glacial pace
gargantuan and ominous
greater than gods
diffusing into the distance

clouds hang hauntingly above the Manor
wandering into the warm wet air
stoutly surging into the sky
against the gentle suppression of empty ether

the birds are the observers
regal and reserved
of the meaningless motion of Man
amid the frenzied flourishing of fauna

He Stands at Right Angles with the world,
Raising Flattened Hard pine Walls.
He Creates a Floral Formula of Captive marigolds and oleanders.
He Plots His land with Mathematical Precision.
He is Cold, Calculating, and Consuming.

then a quiet flicker of flesh and feathers
and the Clouds no longer belong

Through the Eyes of Birds [V5]

Here is the link to the painting.

light sweeps across the hills
in a soft glow of slow burn heat

nature consumed by
ember reds
powdered ash whites
golden flametip edges
warm coal blacks

there is perfect stillness

bare branches and brackish water
caught in symbiotic static and stasis

silent bedrock moves at glacial pace
greater than gods
gargantuan and ominous
dissipating into the distance

clouds hang hauntingly above the manor
wandering into the warm wet air
stoutly surging into the sky
against the gentle suppression of empty ether

the birds are the observers
withdrawn and watchful
of the meaningless motion of Man
amid the frenzied flourishing of fauna

He Stands at Right Angles with the world,
with Flattened Hard pine Walls.
He Creates a Floral Formula of Captive marigolds and oleanders for Display.
He is Cold, Calculating, and Consuming.

then a quiet flicker of flesh and feathers
and the Clouds suddenly feel different

Through The Eyes of Birds [V4]

Here is the link to the painting.

light sweeps across the hills
in a soft glow of slow burn heat
nature in full swing with
ember reds
powdered ash whites
golden flametip edges
warm coal black

there is perfect stillness

bare branches and brackish water
caught in symbiotic static and stasis

the clouds billow up from the deep cavern
wandering into the warm wet air
stoutly surging into the sky
against the gentle suppression of empty ether

silent bedrock moves at glacial pace
gargantuan and ominous
greater than gods
dissipating into distance

the birds are the observers
withdrawn and watchful
of the meaningless motion of Man
amid the frenzied flourishings of fauna

He Stands at Right Angles with the world,
with Hardened Flat pine Walls.
Calculated, Cold, and Consuming.

then a quiet flicker of flesh and feathers
and the Clouds suddenly feel different

Oppenheimer Apprehensions [V. 2]

Oppenheimer apprehensions as I realize
that I too, write in a notebook made of mighty pines

I run water over my body every morning from depleting oceans
And drive a car that poisons Nature’s lungs, ensuring a quicker death

I realize that I have never marched on any campus
On any street, or on the steps of any capital
I have never held a peace sign or a woman’s right to choose sign
But I watch political news on the television
And am enraged by inaction

I realize that I read books with higher, noble meanings
But never remember how they moved me a week later
And I never write any myself

I realize that I plan to go to college and find a job where
I plan to gaze at stars so I may miss all the
Earthly problems around me

Oppenheimer apprehensions as I realize
That I too, am like Vishnu
Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds

Oppenheimer Apprehensions [V. 1]

Oppenheimer apprehensions as I realize
that I too, write in a notebook
Made of might pines
and that I run water over my body every morning
and that I drive a car with a pathetic MPG

I have never marched on any campus
On any street, or on the steps of any capital
I have never held a peace sign or a woman’s right to choose sign
But I watch political news on the television
And am enraged by inaction

I read books with higher, noble meanings
But never remember how they moved me a week later
And I never write any myself

I plan to go to college and find a job where
I plan to gaze at stars so I may miss all the
Earthly problems around me

Oppenheimer apprehensions as I realize
That I too, am like Vishnu
Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.

Through the Eyes of Birds [V. 3]

Link to the picture that inspired this piece.

light sweeps across the hills
in a soft glow of slow burn heat
nature in full swing with
ember reds
powdered ash whites
golden flametip edges
warm coal black

and there is perfect stillness
bare branches and brackish water
caught in symbiotic static and stasis

the clouds billow up from the mountainous cavern
pushing into the sky, unafraid
pressing into the cool wet air
against the gentle suppression of empty ether
like air within museum walls

silent bedrock moves at glacial pace
gargantuan and ominous, greater than Gods
blending into distance

the birds are the observers
watchful and reserved
of the meaningless motion of Man
amid the frenzied flourishing of fauna

He Stands at Right Angles with the world,
with Hardened Flat pine Walls.
Calculated and Cold.

then a quiet flicker of flesh and feathers
and the Clouds suddenly feel different

Narrative Piece [V. 2]

Link to the painting being described.

light sweeps across the hills
in a soft glow of slow burn heat
nature in full swing with
ember reds
powdered ash whites
golden flametip edges
warm coal black

and there is perfect stillness
bare branches and brackish water
caught in symbiotic static and stasis

the clouds billow up from the mountainous cavern
pushing into the sky, unafraid
pressing into the cool wet air
against the gentle suppression of empty ether
like air within museum walls

silent bedrock moves at glacial pace
gargantuan and ominous, greater than Gods
blending into distance

the birds are the observers
watchful and reserved
of the meaningless motion of man
amid the frenzied flourishing of fauna

he stands at right angles with the world
with white washed walls and
wide open windows
calculated and cold

then a quiet flicker of flesh and feathers
and the clouds suddenly feel different

Narrative Piece [V. 1]

Here are some vague ideas of what my narrative piece will be. Here is a link to the painting it is about.

light sweeps across the hills
nature in full swing
firewood red
ash white
golden flame edge
warm coal black
and there is perfect stillness
bare branches and brackish water
caught in symbiotic stasis and static

clouds billow up from the mountainous cavern
pushing into the sky, unafraid
into cool wet air
the gentle suppression of empty ether
like air within museum walls

the birds are the observers
watchful and silent
then a quiet flicker of flesh and feathers

silent bedrock moves slower than time
large and ominous, greater than Gods
blending into distance

amid the flourish stands man
at right angles with the world
and the clouds suddenly feel different

A few ideas of poems to work further on

so here are so possible poems i would want to work on, so leave a comment of what interests you most and i'll probably work on it, thanks

1:
the sum of man
laid out at your fingertips
within the hollowed bones of nature

her skeleton becomes our canvas
to document our intelligence
our struggle
our bloodlines
and our hopes to escape the grasp of Her bony fingers

2:
The Court must insist
(Here the prisoner sat down)
The following day, January 27, was a Sunday
Organic farmers need to plow
to bury and kill weeds

This makes people feel that the
alcohol industry is helping their community
light chest, streaked belly
the plan was working!

but the excruciating pain of hypothermia
wore at Malar
and before long a pull of gloom and hopelessness
had returned
Different messages might be carried away
but they plainly were rejecting the ethic of
acquisitive individualism

I was a professional soldier

3:
as I walked down the fresh pavement
of my de facto fenced neighborhood
streaks began to fill the sky, the air
and the cracks between my steps

I saw an act of nature
between a young bird and its fate
lying sideways, broken and filthy and perfect
streaks running across its body

I ran home through puddles and pavement
and closed my eyes in the shower
I felt tiny streaks of water
run from my back down over my stomach

I drove to your house where we
once shared something beautifully bare
and you ran your hands across my body
and left streaks across my stomach

4:
I earnestly desire something spiritual
I want God to talk to me while I sleep
I want to find my inspiration like the old Romantics did
to be moved by something larger than my bones

I need my own vision quest
my own Anne Frank
my own Mt. Eerie
my own Vietnam
my own Plague
my own fear of death

5:
Oppenheimer apprehensions as I realize
that I too, write in a notebook