in the sky so high, soaring; free. envy of you, am i? I don’t know. life is such a strange thing, and I don’t see hawks very often. but when I do, the beauty of them soaring is just so mesmirizing.
I rode freight trains for three months.
slept on rooftops.
drank water from the generosity of strangers
while begging for money for beer.
i have knelt and kissed the ground, rumi.
i still don’t know what it is i am supposed to do.
show me the way.
I am a hawk. I fly, I bite, and I dive. I could be angry at myself for being what it is that I am, but what would be the point. This is the way nature made me. I was born to catch, kill, and devour. Fighting nature would be futile and pointless, so I accept it instead.
He walked along the forest path and stoof still for a moment to take in the atmosphere. The icy wind rustling through the air, the faint song of birds the dull grey green of winter. he looked around and saw another animal seemingly taking in the atmosphere, a hawk perched in the tree.
The hawk shouted and howled words that only a few living souls could comprehend. Later the animals surrounded the hawk and picked at it’s brains and devoured his eyes. Yes the hawk was dead, but only on the second plain of life.
Standing on the corner, the young boy tugged his cabbie hat out of his eyes and again called out the day’s headlines. His hawking on the corner made him as much as 30 cents a day.
The wingspan spreads a dark shadow over the thawing ground. Looking up, the magestic bird is visible gliding through sky, cutting the air with its seemingly razor-sharp wings. His whiskers tremble with fright. From under the leaves in which he hid, he witnesses the new arrival. Hungry, wild. The field mouse watches intently, waiting for a single moment to make his escape.
a hawk flies above my deep into the night
i feel its spirit soar above my own
i wonder if it can feel me too as i feel the air move between us
for just a moment we are connected
as one though we are different
two completely different beings together as one for just a small time
flying above there was a majestic bird, slowly drifting on the hot drafts on air it started to slowly dawdel down as i got a better look. It was a hawk, i had never seen many of them before.
There is a hawk in the sky. It glides majestically through the clouds only to come down and kill its prey.
Something so beautiful has such an ugly way of life. That seems to be how humans are too sometimes.
Circle , ripple , revolution and more. It gazes down at the world with still eyes and body in continual motion. Swoops very close, almost down to arms length and then takes off. Far far into the unknown skies it soars. It seems to collect our perceptions and dissipate them in the universe. As if to tell us silently just how volatile and value less they are in the larger sense. Like a strong fragrance looses its when sprayed in the open air. And once it’s gone you take a whiff of the air around to realize how sweet it smells. How many things it says to you and how many songs it carries. Songs of the birds, the canaries and the hawks. And here we are thinking that hawks can’t sing. They only circle. That’s how God made them. They’re so high above us that we can’t see the swoop in their circle or that what is a million arm’s length to us is just another flap of it’s wings. We don’t see in it’s gaze, the reflection of our whole life because we’re busy imagining it carbon dating us with it’s circles. We don’t even see the circle of it’s life in our eyes as we look up in the sky.
i love red tailed hawks, there are tons of them in my hometown and they perch on the telephone wires and their plumage shines like fire in the sun. they are undoubtably my favorite animal.
The hawk’s beauty was amazing. The golden feathers, the proud white head, the strong talons holding it to the branch that it was perched upon, all showed the reason why it was a symbol of strength.
hawks in the sky i see you there so rare i see. You remind me of my people. How i wish
i could be more with my native side but yet im not which is sad to me.
The hawk circled in the sky, becoming the envy of every man glancing up at it during the soccer game. Freedom, power.. things lost to man but owned by the hawk. Owned the sky.
i see a hawk in the sky i wondery why. Yet i do not know why he is there or how he can fly.
I some times wish to be a hawk to fly away from this place and go to California and be with Cholo. have a couple of brews and pass the peace pipe…
The hawk had black feathers, and wonderful curly tails. He looked like a Digimon creature that I used to watch a few years ago, and I wondered how something like that ever came into existence. There used to be birds that couldn’t even fly. So how come this one is able to?
blackhawks are in the Stanley Cup Finals! I never really was the biggest hockey fan until i started to watch it this season and ireally really really love it. i especially love Patrick Sharp, #10= love.
an animal that circles my head…sees whats below doesnt understand..distant….all knowing in a way but doesnt influence the situation…understands but doesnt intervene
He was totally strong and knew where to go… had to go because destiny defined the course…the light lit his face and he was off.. No one knew where it all lead to but life has a way of showing us the path.
black hawk down, i didnt see the movie but they say its good. i wonder what its about, about a black hawk that is hurt and goes down? whatever… he wanted food.
The hawk slowly climbed in the crisp summer air, across the fluctuations of wind and time. As the grassy knolls beneath began to shrink, so did the cares of the world that he was leaving behind.
Hawks are a species of a bird, from the ordee aves of the phlyum vertabarate. Commonly mistaken as eagles, these birds feed on remains of dead animals commonlt in the sesert.
Sex. Sex hawks. Sex hawks offenders were the number one cause of date rape cases last season. Just after mating season, the ‘sex hawks’ swoop down and mangle the head of the unsuspecting virgins.
What would it look like up there? In the sky? I always wonder what the eyes of someone else, or something else would look like. I see people on buses, staring out the window at the dirty, foggy street that I am standing on. And I hear the screech above me, the bird that sees me as prey? I wonder.
I watched him like a hawk. My eyes never left him. I wondered what his story was. What he was hiding. Where he came from and where he was going. He caught my gaze and looked back. We stared. He finally looked away. I knew it.
it was falling fast. faster than anything before. falling like soaring hawks down the sky. the sky was blue a deep blue, the only blue you see after it’s rained for days. it was falling fast.
We’re told to write here. So we do. The trick, and unfortunately, they don’t make it particularly interesting. One should really think of making something more creative. Really. I’m being serious. If you’re still reading… I’m sorry. Except that was a lie. Why shield I be sorry? You should be sorry for standing or sitting there doing nothing interesting. Too bad. Life is good? Go explore. Make something. Meet someone.
hawk is pretty much a super cool bird that kills things. like stupid mice and stuff. some crazy people have pet hawks, but the hawk could totally own the person if it wanted
in the sky so high, soaring; free. envy of you, am i? I don’t know. life is such a strange thing, and I don’t see hawks very often. but when I do, the beauty of them soaring is just so mesmirizing.
I rode freight trains for three months.
slept on rooftops.
drank water from the generosity of strangers
while begging for money for beer.
i have knelt and kissed the ground, rumi.
i still don’t know what it is i am supposed to do.
show me the way.
I am a hawk. I fly, I bite, and I dive. I could be angry at myself for being what it is that I am, but what would be the point. This is the way nature made me. I was born to catch, kill, and devour. Fighting nature would be futile and pointless, so I accept it instead.
He walked along the forest path and stoof still for a moment to take in the atmosphere. The icy wind rustling through the air, the faint song of birds the dull grey green of winter. he looked around and saw another animal seemingly taking in the atmosphere, a hawk perched in the tree.
The hawk shouted and howled words that only a few living souls could comprehend. Later the animals surrounded the hawk and picked at it’s brains and devoured his eyes. Yes the hawk was dead, but only on the second plain of life.
Standing on the corner, the young boy tugged his cabbie hat out of his eyes and again called out the day’s headlines. His hawking on the corner made him as much as 30 cents a day.
The wingspan spreads a dark shadow over the thawing ground. Looking up, the magestic bird is visible gliding through sky, cutting the air with its seemingly razor-sharp wings. His whiskers tremble with fright. From under the leaves in which he hid, he witnesses the new arrival. Hungry, wild. The field mouse watches intently, waiting for a single moment to make his escape.
a hawk flies above my deep into the night
i feel its spirit soar above my own
i wonder if it can feel me too as i feel the air move between us
for just a moment we are connected
as one though we are different
two completely different beings together as one for just a small time
flying above there was a majestic bird, slowly drifting on the hot drafts on air it started to slowly dawdel down as i got a better look. It was a hawk, i had never seen many of them before.
There is a hawk in the sky. It glides majestically through the clouds only to come down and kill its prey.
Something so beautiful has such an ugly way of life. That seems to be how humans are too sometimes.
Circle , ripple , revolution and more. It gazes down at the world with still eyes and body in continual motion. Swoops very close, almost down to arms length and then takes off. Far far into the unknown skies it soars. It seems to collect our perceptions and dissipate them in the universe. As if to tell us silently just how volatile and value less they are in the larger sense. Like a strong fragrance looses its when sprayed in the open air. And once it’s gone you take a whiff of the air around to realize how sweet it smells. How many things it says to you and how many songs it carries. Songs of the birds, the canaries and the hawks. And here we are thinking that hawks can’t sing. They only circle. That’s how God made them. They’re so high above us that we can’t see the swoop in their circle or that what is a million arm’s length to us is just another flap of it’s wings. We don’t see in it’s gaze, the reflection of our whole life because we’re busy imagining it carbon dating us with it’s circles. We don’t even see the circle of it’s life in our eyes as we look up in the sky.
my hawk flies underground
your hawk chooses to do the opposite.
and this is where we are now
up is just down
hawk……. a bird i think. it has good eyesight, heard it in hawkeye. aaaaa…
Watching me watching it, she swoops her eyes. Fly around in circles or else you get lost. No one has eyes like that.
i love red tailed hawks, there are tons of them in my hometown and they perch on the telephone wires and their plumage shines like fire in the sun. they are undoubtably my favorite animal.
The hawk’s beauty was amazing. The golden feathers, the proud white head, the strong talons holding it to the branch that it was perched upon, all showed the reason why it was a symbol of strength.
glaring sun from above, clouds fierce, hawk swoops down. Magnificence.
hawks in the sky i see you there so rare i see. You remind me of my people. How i wish
i could be more with my native side but yet im not which is sad to me.
The hawk circled in the sky, becoming the envy of every man glancing up at it during the soccer game. Freedom, power.. things lost to man but owned by the hawk. Owned the sky.
i see a hawk in the sky i wondery why. Yet i do not know why he is there or how he can fly.
I some times wish to be a hawk to fly away from this place and go to California and be with Cholo. have a couple of brews and pass the peace pipe…
The hawk had black feathers, and wonderful curly tails. He looked like a Digimon creature that I used to watch a few years ago, and I wondered how something like that ever came into existence. There used to be birds that couldn’t even fly. So how come this one is able to?
blackhawks are in the Stanley Cup Finals! I never really was the biggest hockey fan until i started to watch it this season and ireally really really love it. i especially love Patrick Sharp, #10= love.
an animal that circles my head…sees whats below doesnt understand..distant….all knowing in a way but doesnt influence the situation…understands but doesnt intervene
Hawks. Do we really ever see thm?
Or do we just think they’re the crows that eat roadkill and make homes out of rooftops
I like spotting Hawks in the wild. I also like Tony Hawk.
He was totally strong and knew where to go… had to go because destiny defined the course…the light lit his face and he was off.. No one knew where it all lead to but life has a way of showing us the path.
black hawk down, i didnt see the movie but they say its good. i wonder what its about, about a black hawk that is hurt and goes down? whatever… he wanted food.
The hawk slowly climbed in the crisp summer air, across the fluctuations of wind and time. As the grassy knolls beneath began to shrink, so did the cares of the world that he was leaving behind.
i just wrote about a damn hawk. ._.
Hawks are majestic birds which feed on teh glory of the remains of carcasses.
soaring through the sky no worries
predator
eying down the prey only to swoop in
unexpected
black hawk
eyes
Hawks are a species of a bird, from the ordee aves of the phlyum vertabarate. Commonly mistaken as eagles, these birds feed on remains of dead animals commonlt in the sesert.
Sex. Sex hawks. Sex hawks offenders were the number one cause of date rape cases last season. Just after mating season, the ‘sex hawks’ swoop down and mangle the head of the unsuspecting virgins.
What would it look like up there? In the sky? I always wonder what the eyes of someone else, or something else would look like. I see people on buses, staring out the window at the dirty, foggy street that I am standing on. And I hear the screech above me, the bird that sees me as prey? I wonder.
I watched him like a hawk. My eyes never left him. I wondered what his story was. What he was hiding. Where he came from and where he was going. He caught my gaze and looked back. We stared. He finally looked away. I knew it.
bird, big beak, predator
usual name for teams
boring, not original
they eatpigeons. the vietman war was bad they called soldiers that fought hawks. hawks that fly low are sick
it was falling fast. faster than anything before. falling like soaring hawks down the sky. the sky was blue a deep blue, the only blue you see after it’s rained for days. it was falling fast.
We’re told to write here. So we do. The trick, and unfortunately, they don’t make it particularly interesting. One should really think of making something more creative. Really. I’m being serious. If you’re still reading… I’m sorry. Except that was a lie. Why shield I be sorry? You should be sorry for standing or sitting there doing nothing interesting. Too bad. Life is good? Go explore. Make something. Meet someone.
hawk is pretty much a super cool bird that kills things. like stupid mice and stuff. some crazy people have pet hawks, but the hawk could totally own the person if it wanted
I love to watch hawks circling in the clear blue sky of a summer day.
Majestic, powerful, free.