There is pure beauty in the white eagle, Lifting it's wings, Gliding above the trees, Escaping the visiousness of man. Man waits to destroy the beauty, Suddenly the feathers of white Are pure no longer. They are crimson with the stain Of a bullet's wound. The once beautiful wings are blood spattered, The once gliding beauty has fallen, The once prideful eyes Are full of the last panic and horror, of a bird who's relatives are all but gone. The once gliding eagle is cascading down, Through the trees, Into the clammy water, Floating in the pond The heartless poacher feels not The shame of an inhuman kill, But pride of the beauty that he has destroyed. Such a terrible, horrid predator is man, Only such as he would be as wicked, as to Deprive the world of such magnificentness
Reason for writing:
Mrs. Enstrom, my english teacher(I'm in 7th Grade) gave my
class a list of seven words we had to incorporate into a
poem at least 10 lines. I got carried away and wrote this
20+ line poem, but I got an A. I've been told it is very
good and would like any ideas you can give me to make this
poem better! I am at Zeroman13@aol.com
Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Bobby Pembleton, 1/11/84.