from Students in a Writing Course at Lone Star–CyFair College,
English Composition & Rhetoric 1302-5002
Boat-tailed Grackleon sanibel Island, Florida" by Peter Wallack - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons.
Feathered hymnals lie heavy on the tongue of an individual grackle.
(D. G. Smith)
A thin layer of oil lies on water which lies on a shimmering grackle.
I'm a freckle on the face of the sky,
Raven haired, the black of one's eye,
I travel to far places with those in my covey,
Living for 13 years...if I'm lucky.
I follow the rest in diverticula.
As a grackle flocks together,
Holding together a bond more red then a females red hair strands grouped together.
The female with rich brown skin.
The greater the bird the greater the flock.
Peeking at the smart device looking for something to feed her mind.
Increasing the belly with information.
Vying for gossip on the latest trend in an urban setting.
On the telephone line in a noisy area not bothering anyone.
The herald of the morn
Awakes me with its snarky song
Unsophisticated beauty, bliss and eternal happiness is a grackle softly stirred through the everlasting winds of heaven.
A grackle is a free soul, and it is an interesting example of what humanity should do. A grackle would stop at any moment of its life, and stare at random stuff to examine, think, process, in a way its mind would forget everything that is going on around them, and focus on the beauty of meditation. Humanity should do that every once in their lives, just have a "stop sign" to tell us forget reality, and be a free soul, and go enjoy the beauty of nature.
The grackle wails when it feels endangered. It warns the others, what is around and let's them know to avoid the area. The grackle warns the other grackles.
Soaring above our heads, it watches our every move. At every turn of the corner, it sits there waiting for you. A grackle is a security camera, for it stalks your being.
A human's darkest sins can be reflected upon the dark flocks of grackles.Grackles make a mess of things, with their massive flocks
Its mouth opens and gives a sound of cruel laughter,
Its eyes blank, staring into the soul of other,
Its hunger is an unquinchable thirst,
A black plege, soaring through the air,
No matter what season it may be, it is always snowing, there's no need to defrost the windshield, for its already liquid,
Its color, empty of light and life, leaving shades upon the ground.
A winged work of art, on who's canvas natures relies on hues of sadness, shrouded in colors of the twilight sky. Eyes that stare simultaneously at nothing and everything, with all the emotion of a corpse that loses its soul unexpectedly.
In the evening the power lines grow fatter and hang lower. Talking to each other with a shrill screech scorching the silence and producing an orchestra of devilish noise. When it is time to flee they blanket the skies with black clouds.
A dwarf among the clouds, but a giant when placed in a choir. Their cries for acknowledgment are often confused with shrieks of terror.
I am one of almost 1,000,000 up on 1 million.
The beauty of my metallic body is blinding.
It is almost sickening that I am unbelievably unique.
I identity is one egg out of a billion.
I flee the scene of the streets, because I am a thief.
Hiding amongst duplicates of a feather.
I am the last of many lasts.
Alone they are annoying, taking up space, getting in the way and signaling death to the vegetation around them. Grackles are nothing but dead leaves; soaring around on the wind. Ugly and simple in color, all they do is provide problems for others, especially when they are in groups. Every day they appear on your lawn and property, dirtying up the place, forcing you to come remove them yourself. Once they come it is almost impossible to get rid of them all at once. However upon closer inspection they have their own unique simplistic beauty. They create the giant masses towering above our heads, the very same masses people consider “the beauty of nature”. Children love to play with them, often sending them back to the same winds that brought them here. Grackles are nothing but dead leave; plentiful, irritating and beautiful in their own plain way.
Colorful with dark shiny wings, but small and fragile. Always looking around trying to find something to eat with its beautiful long beak.
I have a rainbow colored precedent body, glazed with clear nail polish added with a touch of pitch black night. A crime littered, dirty city, with an amazing view, unsophisticated beauty.
(Nesho Stajich Diaz, Jr.)
A thief in a blue mask anticipating the moment in which food from another of its kind eaves their home. They have no song, but instead the imitations of power lines which has yet ti be anything but pleasant to the ear. Fluffed up hands and tipping hands, in order to keep the other flocks of men away in the spring and let his reside in beak-to-beak, a practice of procreation for his kind. He only breaks the law because he can fly and that is why the thief is set aside.
Soaring through the wind, quietly in the background
Not affecting people's daily lives yet creating a soft glimmer of beauty in the world
The grackle flies, the fall leaves flutter swiftly through the air, seamlessly carrying on, as if their only purpose was to be admired
Gazing into the sunlight,
Looking to take flight.
I’m not like any other bird,
Although you’ve already heard my word.
We all flock together,
Hope we all don’t drop together.
Hunting for the worms,
We laugh as they squirm.