“The wings spread, the wind beneath holding great guiding ever upwards, nose straight, looking ahead, the destination really not set, as it’s just about the flight, nothing else” Gun Roswell
Flying through the air
Without a single care
A beauty with flare
Innocence unaware
Flapping her wings
While the wind sings
Sky feels like spring
A scene well worthy
Of kings
“There is nothing to it, just flap your wings and fly away, at least, that is how it was to me explained, but haven’t tried it yet thought, maybe I should? After all, it could actually work, even with my stubby wings on my old back?” Gun Roswell
Fly to the monochromatic grey
Taking flight in the middle of the night, flying ever so high by simply, or rather not simply, flapping the wings of might, as there is nothing quite so daring, as trying and exceeding mind over gravity, as the pull is no longer winning, and the earth, stopped all spinning, as the sensations of floating freely up against the tall of the very skies is the only thing making the flyers heart roar and sing, as it is indeed a thing, when finally in flight, in the might of the grey coloured skies.
But that of course, could only be in fantasy as the birds and bees are the only ones capable of such a great feat, and so, even if only in the fantasy for the non winged ones, left here on the ground and can now only in envy watching those capable to rise above the clouds, disappearing into the shroud of the grey covering it all, and they will never fall as the winds will carry them to wherever they need to go, but those of us with clipped wings can still bring joy out of seeing them up there fly, and in our secret dreams, we can too.
“Trying to reach the lighter side while flying towards the sun, can be hard“ Gun Roswell
From darkness into light
The wings heavy and exhausted from flying all through the night, but the fight to survive is far from over. Or at least, that is how it feels, as the only thing this winged being wants to do, is to get into the bright light of the day, wherever it may lay ahead, at least that is the hope for the weary traveller up high in the skies.
But what happens when the darkness finally ends? After having so much time inside there spent, can the light really be the long awaited saviour our winged friend was looking for all this time? Is the feeling they had been looking for simply fine? Basking there, in the eternal light, without any strife the best way of living it, only nice?
Well, guess we will never find out the total truth as some of us prefer the lure of darkness, the shadows so safe, there is simply no way, letting in that bright and shiny sun into the corners where we, the dark dwellers
The Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge: Weightless
“Oh Gravity, Thou Art a Heartless Bitch” – Sheldon Cooper – The Big Bang Theory
Weightless, Two
Gliding across the skies
Between the clouds she flies
Sometimes out loud she cries
But up there, no one hears
Of her fears
The Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge: Weightless
Some of the things that always remind me of gravity include (but are certainly not limited to):
* Dancing all night long after the age of 30.
* Carrying a human baby for more than three minutes.
* News of a plane crash right before I embark on a trip (because that’s when all planes crash).
* Putting on skis for the first time in a couple of years.
* Building blocks. Especially building blocks.
“Oh Gravity, Thou Art a Heartless Bitch” – Sheldon Cooper – The Big Bang Theory
Weightless, One
Wings spread to the widest
When on the wind she rides
Feelings of being fearless
When up in the air she is,
Weightless
Writing 101, Day Four: A story in a single image
Yesterday, you found inspiration in one word and used it as a springboard for a post idea. Images — including photographs and works of art — can also act as starting points for stories, essays, poems, and personal musings. For this exercise, use one image as the creative spark for today’s post. You might use it as the setting for a story or poem, write about how it makes you feel, or describe a memory conjured by it.
“Be like the bird who, pausing in her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing she hath wings” Victor Hugo
In Flight
Flying through the air
Without a single care
A beauty with flare
Innocence unaware
Flapping her wings
While the wind sings
Sky feels like spring
A scene well worthy
Of kings
Rantings Of A Third Kind 