Little EagleLittle EagleLittle Eagle by griffinlady
Little eagle, little eagle
when will you fly?
Your wings are growing
your eyes are sharp
your beak should seek the taste of fish afar!
Instead you dance in cool lake water
splish a splashing,
spreading, stretching long dark feathers
broad shoulders in summers heat,
Little eagle, little eagle
playing in the water
Perhaps another day you'll fly.
ReedReedReed by griffinlady
I saw my niece upon the lake
paddle in her hand board below
standing on water
like a reed she floated and stood afar
the water wide and greyish blue
and forever the sky, blue above
in idle stillness
As a crane in grace
In her element composed
my little naiad stood
from birth to such a lone tall reed
between three borders
land, and sky and water boundless.
Strong she skims the paddle onward
so many paths to choose.
Red FieldRed FieldRed Field by griffinlady
Screaming heart that beats so loud,
as wings emerge out of my back
like swords from bone
flashing open gold on the red covered field
who am I to burst forth with gold blood dripping
still red from the field
laden in bright grass
red tops from battle and yellow grains
Would I be the one to slay them?
What was my cause with scythe in hand?
Was this my grain now to keep?
What use was there in culling tainted corn?
What use was there in corn?
staring off to the black and crooked mountains.
a breach between them of pouring water,
the ocean licking sunlight
washing and calling me far afield
Thoughts fade as I walk toward it.
At the fields edge larger lingers the wind
like fingers brushing my long red hair,
and breathing strong as it brushes past
the skeleton of outstretched behind me
It picks at the feathers bursting forth
cracking open the pin feathers, barbs and rachis
spreading along the fingered mass,
so long, so thick, so sharp the feeling.
Coddled in cool pain, toward the cre
MetamorphicThe breath of the orchestraMetamorphic by griffinlady
swells and curls around my back
a writhing dance in trembling lights
the beat of life,
a brain awakened,
sparking the spiral
and tempting each sense.
I feel the want and open my wings
one feathered note atop another
the scaly softness becoming my armor
arms in freedom folding in
moving the score
that swells with deep breaths
my heart ruptures into golden light
entranced by the spectrum,
continuum of song
wide and deep
I dare dip my lighted wings
into the spiral of notes abounding
clinging to my taloned feet
I count the seconds,
bound by the fingers of harp strings
With one stroke
the claw slays wire,
I've broken free
the motion a tympanic thunder
and quickly I leap
falling on the wind of horns and strings
my eyes wide open
my body weightless in the storm around me
the music of thunder
like a rising flame
holds me aloft
as I soar in spirals
the nerve to feel a surging light
freedom is the sound
and freedom is my flight.
Current Residence: Minnesota1|
I am a writer and artists primarily working in porcelain clay these days. I don't do much painting anymore. I primarily sculpt and carve horses, masks, and various scenes in mid to low relief. I have always loved horses and they have always been subjects in my art. I am open for commissions on some similar porcelain work.