Poetry Archive
The Lord of the Eagles
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Oh! see the eagle how he soars.
Far o'er the reach of mortal sight,
He soars in search of food and prey,
Far down on the ground below.
He left his eyrie at early dawn,
To freshen up and stretch his wings,
And now he's come here hunting,
In search of his breakfast's meat.
I watch him glide o'er thermals high.
He searches with eyes that can spot,
A snoozing hare from miles off.....
He listens with ears that can hear,
A nibbling mouse from a mile off...
He spirals higher and higher and then,
and then he suddenly stops, circles,
Circles in the sky, there he goes,
He plummets like an arrow from a bow...
Meters off from crash and death,
He flares his wings and rakes his talons forward,
Into a rabbit, feasting on some juicy roots.
He rises with his prize, heads off for home,
Back to his eyrie, to have a feast up there....
It is late in the eve when I see him again,
I'm out on a walk and he is up in the sky.
He spirals lower and lower and lands,
Lands on the branch of a huge tree,
I stand still and watch.........
Soon eagles of all kinds, coming out of the west,
Spiral down onto the branches of the tree,
The tree on which their leader sits.
Soon they begin to talk,and I cannot grasp a bit,
For their tongue is unknown to me.
Suddenly a great eagle notices me,
He moves near his leader and whispers....
The leader turns and speaks to me,
In the common tongue of the west.
He asks me what I was doing there,
He asks me why I was spying on his people.
I tell him, I saw him hunting in the morn,
And on seeing him on my evening walk,
stopped to watch them......
I speak to him and learn many things,
He is Zirazkil the Wind Lord.
He speaks to me of the evil that befell,
His subjects, after man entered,
The great mountains of the north.
He speaks to me of an eagle's day,
Their customs, cultures and their lives....
The sun goes down as we talk,
sets with a bright glow that lights up the west.
He bids me farewell in this way
"farewell and be good in life.....but,
Be back in your eyrie before dark."
I reply as I should........
"Farewell Lord of the Eagles,
Fare well wherever you may.
May the wind that flows under you wings,
Carry you to the places where,
The moon sails and the sun walks."
Then there is a great rush of winds,
From the eagles' beating wings.
In a great phalanx they stream out,
Bid me adeiu and are gone......
I watch them lift off onto the sky,
Amid the beams of the setting sun,
I stand and wonder all about,
What future has in store for them, while.....
They head home to their eyries,
Streaming into the darkening east.......
This poem belongs to the poetry archive on Chips’nCode. Where surviving legacy material exists, the original title graphic is kept with the poem as part of the record rather than rebuilt into something newer.
Copyright © Manoj Prajwal Bhattaram. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations used with clear attribution, these poems may not be copied, redistributed, adapted, or used to create derivative works without prior written permission.