Today I saw an eagle who's wing was bent and could not fly.
And it saddened me to know this noble creature had been denied
Its sole purpose in life, to soar upon the wind, free and high,
Now left land bound, to hobble about and dream of wind and flight.
What stroke of fate condemned the bird to forfeit the etheral sky
And live out its sentence forever barred from the glorious heights
In which it once ruled supreme in might and speed and pride?
Do you suppose now that it wishes that it had died?
To see is to see all.
Edited by - Ben on 29 April 2000 23:11:32
Well, I guess nobody liked it.
You're just far too cultured for me !
Don't assume that others don't like your writing because they fail to respond to the post. Often times many have difficulty expressing how they feel about a particular book, story or poem.
I find writing to be good therapy and have kept journals for years.
What stroke of fate condemned the bird to forfeit the etheral sky is a question many of us can ask ourselves.
Thanks, Simon, Seven. Yes, Seven, I know you're right and there are many reasons for this. Years ago (many years, whew!) one of my teachers said that people were losing the art of writing. Telephones were replacing letters and TV was replacing conversation.
I think perhaps E-mail and chat rooms and discussion boards are changing that somewhat and I, for one, am glad of that. It takes some mental discipline to formulate your thoughts and then to put them down on paper (electronic as well). It's been remarked that the written word is different from the spoken word and I know that to be true. We do not write necessarily the way we speak.
I went to the zoo with the grand kids last weekend and I saw an eagle there than had been injured. It's wing was all bent and it hobbled about on a branch trying to keep its balance. It just struck me as such a cruel twist of fate that this creature of the air should be condemned to such a fate. I wonder what goes through its mind, especially when it sees other birds flying. Does it really want to live shackled to the earth? It sort of reminds me of people and how many of us have had our wings clipped for one reason or the other and have had to settle for much different that we feel that we were meant for. Just a thought.
Edited by - Frenchy on 5 May 2000 6:45:33
Just one comment......WOW! Very evocative poem. I loved it.
In reality, however, animals tend to be realists. They appreciate life, they adapt. Unlike humans, they don't mourn that which they cannot have.
The really sad thing would be if the eagle was still intact and chained to the earth. It would then KNOW it could fly but would not understand why it was being prevented from doing so.
Thank you, Red. I suppose you're right about animals being realists. I was coming home one day from work and I was right behind a car that hit a little squirrel running across the road. It was injured (unconscious, actually) but not dead. I stopped and picked it up and put in in a small box I had and took it home. I made a small cage for it out of regular window screen and gave it water and placed some nuts in the cage which it did not eat, by the way. Two day later the little critter seemed to have his energy back but it was very sullen. On impulse I placed the cage in the fork of a willow tree behind the house and stepped back. When the squirrell found himself in the tree he began clawing frantically at the screen. I removed the cage and placed it back under the carport and he settled down. When I put the cage back in the tree he went nuts again! He finally tore a hole in the screen and scampered up the tree. I was amazed at how much he wanted out of that cage once he saw himself in a tree!
I know from the hundreds of comments and thousands of pages written of the anger and confusion towards them that they can seem as a cage.
But really, anything can be our cage - and some persons just trade cages all their lives - and their continuing anger.
Some people will never realize that they're in a cage, particularily if their protectors or captors take good care of them.
I suppose it's all in the perspective. There are things worse, much worse, than the Society.
Remember that old quote: I complained because I had no shoes, until I saw a man without feet.
I'm really making no point - just did not have enough caffine tonite. Good Nite, all.
By the way, the poetry was good and touching, just was rather sorrowful. People don't care to comment on sorrow in honesty - in my opinion.
Thank you, waiting. Most of my writings seem to take on a somber tone. You're right about cages. As humans we also make our own cages, I believe. It gives us a sense of security, I suppose. Freedom can be scary! (Hey that sounds like a subject for a poem!)