Flight Of The Fire Birds Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Resounding fury, silent killers,
diamonds for eyes
as large as chunks of coal
from the mines of Solomon,
Birds of Prey at work,
3 headed with wings
as outstretched
as the new airbus wow!

Clothed in the prism feathers
of the dusts of comets
for just a moment
as if an illusion;
then they strike,
and as killers,
mighty as a pride
of lionesses on the hunt
they as females,
as strong as any male,
make mince of the meat
of the wicked
and the evil
of any and all
chosen to be part
of the great
feeding feasting fetes.

Alone in one
but of one plus two
and three of four
they are given direction
from the source
now fast approaching
and thundering hard
to make the date,
they are never blind
have no blood to bleed
and as they eat
of those who sowed
bad seed and more
they giggle
like little girls;
would have not
you guessed this?