The hawk flies over the canyon looking for its next meal. It spots a dead animal at the bottom of the canyon and swoops down and goes for dinner. He gets heart burn.
Single bird. Fast and furious, takes flight and watches its prey below. Soaring gently among the clouds looking for a bite to eat. Hunger gnaws at its belly as it waits patiently for the right time to strike.
the rat climbed out of the sewer drain as soon as it was done eating out of the freshly dumped garbage. the hawk saw the rat coming from the sewer before it’s body was fully out. The hawk swooped down to pick it up before the rat even knew it was lunch time.
The hawk glided across the sky and I looked up at it. I didn’t think about the impending doom that was following the hawk in the form of dark clouds. Just a storm, I thought, what’s the big deal? But then the impossible happened.
I saw hawks in the sky and I thought ‘That can’t be a good sign.’
I saw hawks in the sky and I thought you were gone, and it wasn’t a good sign. I saw hawks in the sky this morning. I saw hawks in the sky.
The hawk soared above her, slowly circling on the prey its eyes alone could see. She watched it with a sense of awe, longing for the freedom it had been born into. To see things so clearly and not be trapped by the cares of an indifferent world. Oh to fly above it all.
He stared up at the sky, the bird’s hasty circles nearly making him dizzy. “That’s it up there,” his companion pointed out, reaching into his pocket for the whistle.
“Not yet,” he said as the hawk climbed higher, “wait a bit.”
A noble beast, flying through the misty depths of the sky, seeking and finding, hunting killing and dying, mice and men, whichever one comes first, the most tasty and tender of creatures available to satisfy the dreaded beak and talon and claw, dripping.
Simple, you see hawk at the top. Don’t think, don’t stop, keep writing, with your writers block. And then I stopped, repeated myself to mersala and let her tell me what she thought….she thought the hamper was too messy, so she bought some TNT at the farmers market on Saturday. Good thing for her, she got it all for cheap.
a hawk is a bird that is kind of scary. it is known for having yellow eyes or something. they kind of really scare me but they also create a feeling of protection and leadership. hawks are important.
wind, flying high above the trees, american eagle and uncle sam, bright colours and a flag, wild like the night, like the wind, dark and trees unsettled, blank moss drain tight wrtiing top
There once was a hawk. The hawk lived at the base of a river, where the river joined an even bigger river… This area was very diverse and rich with wildlife. Some of the creatures found in this area were Blue heron, large turtles and Eagles.
It took the rabbit. Just like that, it swwoped down and caught it in its talons. Where it took it, I’ll never know, but somewhere that poor rabbit will be missed
A friend is getting a mohawk soon. Thought she was going to shave her hair, but I guess that plan changed? Oh well. A statement I suppose is a statement, but I’m still not sure what she’d trying to say.
hawk? what am i supposed to write about a hawk? i don’t like birds. they scare me. they arent majestic or amazing or anything like that. they are underdeveloped life forms
kills without repercussions. talons and glittering wings. pine trees on the seldom visited side of the mountain. life interrupted by a highway. eyes narrowed always.
flying in air he is flying why the flight does not cease because my mind is far from ease i fly with hawk through air and land and join with him again, again, he flys soaring through things i never new before.
raptor clawswound your eye socket frets
say my name
i’ll slick your flesh open up like butterfly wings.
reap
save me.
i need
your
kiss. for life itself
The hawk soared high above the sky, circling the prey that hid below. A mouse scampered over the grass, hurrying towards the safety of the forest. His eyes honed in on the small figure, the tuft of fur scurrying on the ground.
hawks fly above us in a way that we all want to, you know, be free. just like holden caulfield wanted to be young
also theres this really annoying phenom sweeping chicago and its all i ever fucking hear about from the adults i’m supposed to look up to,…hawks zombies. kil me now please!!!!! i hate hockey fans.
theres a hawk outside the window it has lots of babies and it likes to feed them. they have a big nest and sometimes the mother hawk goes and flies around looking for food and stuff.
i’ve always wanted to be a bird. i want to fly, glide, soar high above the world thats full of dangers below me. i’m safe when i’m a predator. when smaller creatures shout to eachother “look to the skies!” when they see my silhouette against the sun. my feathers gleam a caramel brown with hints of gold and sheets of black
hawks are beautiful but something out of the ordinary. the way they hunt their prey is fabulous. i think that hawks are somehow indispensable to the whole world ecosistem and they should be protected
Those beady eyes bore into me. Staring. Maddening. Impossible to ignore. Who would have thought that a simple bid could cause such panic. But it could. It did. I just needed it to look away. For one minute was all I asked.
There it was again. Staring at me. Again. I swear it had looked at me everyday, constantly, never ending. I just wanted those damned yellow eyes to gaze elsewhere for once.
the wind was a sure sign of a storm. the bird soared through the sky, although it was difficult to move foward with the strength of the wind. he needed shelter, his life depened on it
The hawk flies over the canyon looking for its next meal. It spots a dead animal at the bottom of the canyon and swoops down and goes for dinner. He gets heart burn.
soaring, talons sharp and whistling through the wind as i streak toward the surface of the earth. the horizon rises like the sun
flies like an eagle. being a bird they do that kind of thing. fly. i wish i could fly, would be great.
Single bird. Fast and furious, takes flight and watches its prey below. Soaring gently among the clouds looking for a bite to eat. Hunger gnaws at its belly as it waits patiently for the right time to strike.
the rat climbed out of the sewer drain as soon as it was done eating out of the freshly dumped garbage. the hawk saw the rat coming from the sewer before it’s body was fully out. The hawk swooped down to pick it up before the rat even knew it was lunch time.
The hawk glided across the sky and I looked up at it. I didn’t think about the impending doom that was following the hawk in the form of dark clouds. Just a storm, I thought, what’s the big deal? But then the impossible happened.
I saw hawks in the sky and I thought ‘That can’t be a good sign.’
I saw hawks in the sky and I thought you were gone, and it wasn’t a good sign. I saw hawks in the sky this morning. I saw hawks in the sky.
The hawk soared above her, slowly circling on the prey its eyes alone could see. She watched it with a sense of awe, longing for the freedom it had been born into. To see things so clearly and not be trapped by the cares of an indifferent world. Oh to fly above it all.
He stared up at the sky, the bird’s hasty circles nearly making him dizzy. “That’s it up there,” his companion pointed out, reaching into his pocket for the whistle.
“Not yet,” he said as the hawk climbed higher, “wait a bit.”
A noble beast, flying through the misty depths of the sky, seeking and finding, hunting killing and dying, mice and men, whichever one comes first, the most tasty and tender of creatures available to satisfy the dreaded beak and talon and claw, dripping.
Simple, you see hawk at the top. Don’t think, don’t stop, keep writing, with your writers block. And then I stopped, repeated myself to mersala and let her tell me what she thought….she thought the hamper was too messy, so she bought some TNT at the farmers market on Saturday. Good thing for her, she got it all for cheap.
a hawk is a bird that is kind of scary. it is known for having yellow eyes or something. they kind of really scare me but they also create a feeling of protection and leadership. hawks are important.
wind, flying high above the trees, american eagle and uncle sam, bright colours and a flag, wild like the night, like the wind, dark and trees unsettled, blank moss drain tight wrtiing top
hawks prey on things weaker than them; birds or people. they seem to be very observant, hence the phrase–watching you like a hawk.
There once was a hawk. The hawk lived at the base of a river, where the river joined an even bigger river… This area was very diverse and rich with wildlife. Some of the creatures found in this area were Blue heron, large turtles and Eagles.
Mohawk. A bird. I’m picturing a bird, soaring high in the air, crazy hairstyle. They all think she’s so badass. She really is. Muahahhahaha. ;)
It took the rabbit. Just like that, it swwoped down and caught it in its talons. Where it took it, I’ll never know, but somewhere that poor rabbit will be missed
flying high through the sky without a single thought to hinder its brain, only instinct to guide it to survive. we could learn from beasts like this.
A friend is getting a mohawk soon. Thought she was going to shave her hair, but I guess that plan changed? Oh well. A statement I suppose is a statement, but I’m still not sure what she’d trying to say.
hawk? what am i supposed to write about a hawk? i don’t like birds. they scare me. they arent majestic or amazing or anything like that. they are underdeveloped life forms
kills without repercussions. talons and glittering wings. pine trees on the seldom visited side of the mountain. life interrupted by a highway. eyes narrowed always.
The Hawk flew out of the western sky. It was dark and raining, and there was nowhere to land.
flying in air he is flying why the flight does not cease because my mind is far from ease i fly with hawk through air and land and join with him again, again, he flys soaring through things i never new before.
raptor clawswound your eye socket frets
say my name
i’ll slick your flesh open up like butterfly wings.
reap
save me.
i need
your
kiss. for life itself
The hawk soared high above the sky, circling the prey that hid below. A mouse scampered over the grass, hurrying towards the safety of the forest. His eyes honed in on the small figure, the tuft of fur scurrying on the ground.
The eyes of hawks could kill you as swiftly as it’s beak, and in a perverse way, they’d be beautiful doing it.
hawks fly above us in a way that we all want to, you know, be free. just like holden caulfield wanted to be young
also theres this really annoying phenom sweeping chicago and its all i ever fucking hear about from the adults i’m supposed to look up to,…hawks zombies. kil me now please!!!!! i hate hockey fans.
theres a hawk outside the window it has lots of babies and it likes to feed them. they have a big nest and sometimes the mother hawk goes and flies around looking for food and stuff.
There was a sly bird watching me from the distance. Why doth he stare so harshly? I haven’t a clue why the thimble sized chimp ran across the road.
I was eight when a hawk ate our puppy.
The bird’s eyes glinted with a primal sort of malice as it soared across the wide canyon.
mo hawk
hair
bird
gel
cong lam
skater
claws
sharp
hawk
i’ve always wanted to be a bird. i want to fly, glide, soar high above the world thats full of dangers below me. i’m safe when i’m a predator. when smaller creatures shout to eachother “look to the skies!” when they see my silhouette against the sun. my feathers gleam a caramel brown with hints of gold and sheets of black
hawks are beautiful but something out of the ordinary. the way they hunt their prey is fabulous. i think that hawks are somehow indispensable to the whole world ecosistem and they should be protected
Those beady eyes bore into me. Staring. Maddening. Impossible to ignore. Who would have thought that a simple bid could cause such panic. But it could. It did. I just needed it to look away. For one minute was all I asked.
hathaway hawks fly above the sky so high and i can’t help but wonder why?
There it was again. Staring at me. Again. I swear it had looked at me everyday, constantly, never ending. I just wanted those damned yellow eyes to gaze elsewhere for once.
Some days, when we were driving on long, two-lane country roads, the black speck of a hawk would appear on a phone line or just over the car.
the wind was a sure sign of a storm. the bird soared through the sky, although it was difficult to move foward with the strength of the wind. he needed shelter, his life depened on it
Squawk they do, but only if you attempt to hold this creature of flight to the ground. the heart was meant to beat higher and higher. the sky, over.