All paintings and poetry shown are original works by RHawk
Original $275/Prints $50
From snowy peaks to the jungle green,
The roar of injustice is a silent scream.
Many roamed across ancient lands far east,
Now pug marks are few from this majestic beast.
Intense yellow eyes that can pierce through dark,
Wide black finger prints, a forehead wang mark.
The king’s forest, the peoples’ village, mutual respect,
A tradition that’s old, but the people are all that’s left.
Their bones are sold, for an ancient alchemy’s cure,
Their land is being used up at the speed of a blur.
Once there were 8 subspecies, now 3 are gone,
More are dying, one a week, what went so wrong?
Old man of the forest, feared, distrusted, yet admired,
Your existence on this earth seems to be in dire.
Mother tiger hide your cub babies well,
Their life depends on what others can’t sell.
Original $275 SOLD /Prints $50
Concrete peaks illuminate the sky,
Creating long beams of neon fingers.
The city lights can't hear the cry,
A lonely howl, a sound that lingers.
A solitary figure walks the mountains near,
Silhouetted beside the moon's bright face.
It is an outlaw and lives in constant fear,
Of intruders who want to wipe out its race.
Their furry soul, for a bounty to be paid,
A price too costly for mankind to pay.
Many stories, and many tales, give no aid,
To the many creatures lost along the way.
Their spirit so proud, this animal wild,
A brother, the First People have said.
Fearful hunter, spirit helper, nature's child,
Not a savage beast that needs to be dead.
Spirit of the wolf in the midnight sky,
Protecting its land and pack family.
Its brothers on earth howling their cry,
This is our land, we are meant to be.
Original $275 /Prints $50
Sitting at my desk, pondering what I should do,
This office is my cage, one that I’ve gotten into.
Life at work has a few ups, but many downs,
I would like to smile, can only manage a frown.
Looking out my small window, what do I see,
It’s an eagle, so free, flying high above me.
My spirit grows wings and it starts to soar,
I drift to the ceiling then float out the door.
My body feels light, tingly and carefree,
Escaping my cage, rising high above the trees.
My spirit is so alive as I continue to soar,
The wind is my guide to the sky’s open door.
Then a knock at my door, brings my spirit home,
Back to my cage, where I sit all alone.
My thoughts are still with that eagle so free,
As I sit at my desk and ponder what will be.
12”x16” Color Pencil
Original $275 /Prints $50
The cool west winds blow wild and free,
Across the vast lands of Yellowstone.
Many wonders, for human eyes to see,
Beauty, only God’s hands should own.
Beasts, large and small, call it home,
A sanctuary, a place to be left alone.
Today a few buffalo are free to roam,
But only in the confines of Yellowstone.
Once the bison were a sea on dry land,
Flowing with the wind, on a wave of grace.
Once they were like large grains of sand,
Sifting thru the confines of time and space.
A new sea arrived, taking the old ones place,
Coming like a storm, to take over this space.
Lord of the prairie, had a mighty fall from grace,
To be wiped out, almost gone, without a trace.
Tatonka, the spirit, needs to be wild and free,
Across lands past that of Yellowstone.
To give back life to those that dare to see,
Beauty, only God’s hand should own.
Price $225 SOLD
Price $600 SOLD