Poem 3: The Dead

I enter to a hush,
No one realizes I just walked in.
They are upset and sullen,
The sadness is about to sink in.

The room is dark, and filled with despair.
As I sit and watch from my angelic armchair.
I see these people are crying, I do not know why
Was it me who died? Was it I as to why they cried?

I wrestled with my inner demons
"It couldn't be me", I thought to myself
Although that would explain,
Why I just walked through a shelf.

Poem 2: The Hawk Gets Housed

I circle around
And what have I found?
A large group of buildings,
It looks quite profound.

This place I have come across
Seems different to me.
What is inside these buildings?
My acute eyes cannot see!

I would have flown away by now,
But I'm just too curious.
Why are these people flocking to this place?
It makes me quite furious.

I get closer and see,
There are openings I may peer into.
So I swoop down and take a gander,
At these facinating venue.

I soar into the place,
Oh, No! It is clear glass!
I am not a Hawk anymore,
I am officially an ass.

Poem 1: Hawk Talk

(This is a poem I wrote with a Hawk's point of view.)

I am particularly hungry
This bright, and beautiful morning.
The wheat fields are empty.
The mice have left without warning.

I spot a large rock,
to sharpen my claws.
And hope that this morning,
I will spot a prey's flaws.

The air is crisp
And the wind just right
For my large, Hawk wings,
To finally take flight.

The tree's are awakening
I can hear them speak.
It shouldn't be long now,
I have waited many a week.

With all this snow on the ground,
What is a Hawk to do?
Perhaps get into a fight,
With an owl or two.

After this owl incident,
I severed all avian ties.
For I am the great Hawk,
King of the Skies.