The hawk flew high in the sky, circling the little fur tuft below. It looped gracefully in the sky, its beady eyes trained on the ground. The little mouse scurried into the forest, seeking comfort.
A hawk circled overhead and I quickly grabbed the new puppy up in my arms to provide him safety. He must have looked like a tastsy morsel from the hunter glideing above us.
A bead of sweat rolled down his brow, across the bridge of his nose. His eyes sharpened, like those of a hawk hunting its prey. Gazing through the scope, he watched every motion with murderous intent. His open eye bulging, bloodshot and parched, he fought the urge to avert his gaze as he depressed the trigger. A flower blooms, a spectacle of crimson brilliance.
Hawks are so beautiful and majestic. They soar through the air so effortlessly and carefree, I wonder how they see everything from up there. Do they perceive the same things the way I do? Or are they just far off imaginations?
stolen goods, red bird, talons, sell, I hawked a pair of shoes I stole from some kid who didn’t look like he needed them. Then a hawk plucked my eyes out as punishment.
Hawk mountain: the place was named correctly. Mountain tops do not level. Mountain tops do not bring a boring familiar platform. Instead, they offer an edge, no room for leasure. Hawk mountain demands choice. Fly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his prey. He circled; anticipation thundered in his veins. He swooped downward, an arrow shooting through the sky to the rodent.
a birdy that likes to fly around in the sky, i once saw one when i was at home, flying about after another little birdy, i watched it swoop down and take out the retreating bird, it was quite interesting to watch.
flying high past the clouds each graceful wing beat taking it nearer to the sun with every step made…birds dawning on greatness creative legions powered by ideas of one wing…
A beautiful haunting bird with talons for fingers and a peaked witches nose for a mouth. It swoops and swoons like a dove on a Harley Davidson kick. Beauty seeps from it’s longfeathered mane.
The hawk flew over the sky.
“What a tasty looking morsel,” he said, spotting a mouse on the lawn below.
The mouse ran across the lawn.
“What a fearful looking hawk!” she squeaked.
The hawk flew above and Vera heard it’s call. Most animals were pretty rare in this very urban area and he was tempted to show it to his friends. In the end, he just walked by, keeping the beauty for her own enjoyment.
Sleek and smooth.
I lie in wait.
For the next prey.
The next unsuspecting creature.
The next creature who is unknowingly seeing their last day.
The next creature who will inevitably lose this battle.
I lie in wait to see the life slowly bleed from their eyes.
I lie in wait.
The hawk stared with it’s beady eyes at the small creature who dug through the dry rattling leaves, unaware that this was the last day he would see. The last time he would smell the smoky air. Such is life.
The hawk has shapes so beautiful. The arc of its wings, spanning over the cliff, and the detail in its golden feathers. The sharpness of its beak will break through my flesh but it will feel thoroughly sublime.
The hawk wasn’t ready to fly this morning because he did not sleep very well. It turns out his brother was fired from his job as a security guard in the city.
It swooped down towards me ready to get it’s dinner. I ran for my life see it zoom down at over a hundred miles per hour. I had to find a place to hide!
is beautiful. is eying me down. is making me feel exposed. i am vulnerable. i am alone. please, please, oh please. someone, comfort me. take away the exposure. take away the hawk. let me be. let. me. be.
Hawks are birds. That’s pretty much the only thing I know about them, other than the fact that they’re absolutely stunning creatures, and they’re breath-taking. I wish I had one, just so that I could feel as gorgeous as it.
It was part of her. Built into her soul, a part of her she could never remove. It protected her and loved her, and she would die with it beside her. Domino could feel it rear it’s head inside her and smiled. Her wings spread wide as she leapt from the cliff top, free.
floating through the sky
like a lost balloon
having slipped from a child’s fingers
he circles around the clouds
and keeps a constant eye
below.
i wonder
what he thinks about
when he is up so high.
The hawk flew high in the sky, circling the little fur tuft below. It looped gracefully in the sky, its beady eyes trained on the ground. The little mouse scurried into the forest, seeking comfort.
Tracing my fingertips against your palm
Hunting you down
I’m ready
tomorow
I’m going in for the kill
I would love to be a hawk. I think I would be viscious though. Oh no. I would be a lady hawk. Flying high. Losing consciousness. It’s loud.
i see the hawk fly; i wish i could accompany it. please…but i lack wings.
A hawk circled overhead and I quickly grabbed the new puppy up in my arms to provide him safety. He must have looked like a tastsy morsel from the hunter glideing above us.
A bead of sweat rolled down his brow, across the bridge of his nose. His eyes sharpened, like those of a hawk hunting its prey. Gazing through the scope, he watched every motion with murderous intent. His open eye bulging, bloodshot and parched, he fought the urge to avert his gaze as he depressed the trigger. A flower blooms, a spectacle of crimson brilliance.
Hawks are so beautiful and majestic. They soar through the air so effortlessly and carefree, I wonder how they see everything from up there. Do they perceive the same things the way I do? Or are they just far off imaginations?
stolen goods, red bird, talons, sell, I hawked a pair of shoes I stole from some kid who didn’t look like he needed them. Then a hawk plucked my eyes out as punishment.
Hawk mountain: the place was named correctly. Mountain tops do not level. Mountain tops do not bring a boring familiar platform. Instead, they offer an edge, no room for leasure. Hawk mountain demands choice. Fly.
Flying high above us all, watching waiting, not giving a call. The hawk awaits a meal for four. Itself, it’s mate, and two chicks it adores.
Looking over the city, like a hawk.
Gazing upon our tiny society.
insignificant.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his prey. He circled; anticipation thundered in his veins. He swooped downward, an arrow shooting through the sky to the rodent.
a birdy that likes to fly around in the sky, i once saw one when i was at home, flying about after another little birdy, i watched it swoop down and take out the retreating bird, it was quite interesting to watch.
flying high past the clouds each graceful wing beat taking it nearer to the sun with every step made…birds dawning on greatness creative legions powered by ideas of one wing…
A beautiful haunting bird with talons for fingers and a peaked witches nose for a mouth. It swoops and swoons like a dove on a Harley Davidson kick. Beauty seeps from it’s longfeathered mane.
driving on the highway in Wisconsin, I spotted a turkey buzzard floating overhead, probably hoping I’d kill something for it.
The hawk flew over the sky.
“What a tasty looking morsel,” he said, spotting a mouse on the lawn below.
The mouse ran across the lawn.
“What a fearful looking hawk!” she squeaked.
The hawk flew above and Vera heard it’s call. Most animals were pretty rare in this very urban area and he was tempted to show it to his friends. In the end, he just walked by, keeping the beauty for her own enjoyment.
I looked up into the sky, a bit of rain falling on my face. I turned to see his piercing yellow eyes staring into me.
“Ready?” he crooned, bringing me towards him.
He was like a raptor the way he hunted me.
the hawk flew super duper high in the sky while he was as high as the sky. then he got down, krystal, and died a bunch of times.
Sleek and smooth.
I lie in wait.
For the next prey.
The next unsuspecting creature.
The next creature who is unknowingly seeing their last day.
The next creature who will inevitably lose this battle.
I lie in wait to see the life slowly bleed from their eyes.
I lie in wait.
hawks cry is piercing, distinguisable, and beautiful. The hawks cry is amazing. They eat squirrels.
The hawk is my favorite kind of bird. I have a red-tail hawk tattooed on my right shoulder in flight.
The hawk stared with it’s beady eyes at the small creature who dug through the dry rattling leaves, unaware that this was the last day he would see. The last time he would smell the smoky air. Such is life.
Eyes, piercing, yellow, searching.
High above, an aerial view, circling prey.
A flicker of movement.
Hover. Wait. Watch.
Swoop.
Kill.
Eat. To survive
The hawk flew up into the tree and landed on a branch right above where she sat.
go and fly.
so high i’m lost.
i went too far,
i crash and fall.
i’m not a bird-
of prey i stay,
i cannot do it
The hawk has shapes so beautiful. The arc of its wings, spanning over the cliff, and the detail in its golden feathers. The sharpness of its beak will break through my flesh but it will feel thoroughly sublime.
The beautiful bird soars through the blue skies, it’s long wings soaking up the sun. It’s shadow reflects on the ground below it.
The hawk wasn’t ready to fly this morning because he did not sleep very well. It turns out his brother was fired from his job as a security guard in the city.
It swooped down towards me ready to get it’s dinner. I ran for my life see it zoom down at over a hundred miles per hour. I had to find a place to hide!
is beautiful. is eying me down. is making me feel exposed. i am vulnerable. i am alone. please, please, oh please. someone, comfort me. take away the exposure. take away the hawk. let me be. let. me. be.
Hawks are birds. That’s pretty much the only thing I know about them, other than the fact that they’re absolutely stunning creatures, and they’re breath-taking. I wish I had one, just so that I could feel as gorgeous as it.
Regal, proud and vicious. I am loyal, and I will cut down any who threaten me. I am power and honour.
I see a hawk.
I seeaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
It was part of her. Built into her soul, a part of her she could never remove. It protected her and loved her, and she would die with it beside her. Domino could feel it rear it’s head inside her and smiled. Her wings spread wide as she leapt from the cliff top, free.
I am a hawk. I catch mice. I am faster than anyone who dares to challenge me to a race of the bridge between life and death.
I am a hawk. I catch mice. I am faster than anyone who dares
floating through the sky
like a lost balloon
having slipped from a child’s fingers
he circles around the clouds
and keeps a constant eye
below.
i wonder
what he thinks about
when he is up so high.