His wings stretch far,
Skimming the sun’s rays
As he searches for prey.
Majestically he glides
On currents of warm air,
While those far below
Are transfixed by his stare.
Suddenly, he spots his prey.
Down, down he swoops,
Frighteningly fast,
Lest it make its escape.
It never had a chance
Against a bird of such power.
His food is swallowed whole
In a flurry of feathers and claws.
All beware the hunter of the air.
“Oi! That’s my chip!
Get lost you stupid gull!”
It’s national writing day today. So, stop making excuses and sit down and write for 5 minutes. Write about anything. See what appears. ☺
I am too tired to write anything sensible today, so I just wrote some silly poems.
I have a headache
And should go to bed
But I am writing
Instead.
…
The NHS turns 70 soon. If is was a person, who would it be? A lady, naturally grey. Wrinkled. Matronly, but steeley underneath. Loves like a grandma but fights for her family like a ninja queen.
…
I press letters on my phone
And hope that a poem will appear.
It doesn’t.
I blame brexit.
Just another blog 