The Seagulls


The Seagulls

Sifting the blue carrion sky they spin and twist upon the bare horizon,
Their eyes intent on a terror below, they plunge
toward the unseen, unknown; tumbling accord of feathers
splitting the waters from the waters, flaying the silver and the gold.
Wrapt in the day’s cold impersonalism, indifferent to the impending doom,
They fall through the immensity of blue, skydivers
Bringing the raw dreams of ancient curses to bare:

Broken only by the light above, below; their claws sink into the bloody world.

Steven Craig Hickman ©2017


4 thoughts on “The Seagulls

  1. This is good stuff. I have a short attention span, as is obvious from my scant style of verse, so it’s hard for me to read longer pieces. I always appreciate any opportunity to enjoy your fine writing in a short form. This is a compliment of the highest order, btw.

    Liked by 1 person

      • I hear you! It’s sometimes like a game waiting on the muse. That’s how I write. Though, I admit it makes for a unprolific pen, but every poem, every story, has a life of its own. btw, did you ever publish your dystopian novel? I think that’s what you were working on at one time.


      • Like many other things, life has a way of interrupting one’s pursuits… family, obligations, procrastination…. the usual fare. Maybe we’re always exploring, on the road, moving toward neither a terminus nor a goal or gaol, but rather the interminable process of the way in which we find ourselves each day. Little benefit or consolation that is for those who might eventually read or want to read such a work.

        Liked by 1 person

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