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243 deviations
        sweet fire sing
            to a primeval moon
                made of
                stardust,              
              and all that is to be-
            of our dreamers and dancers,
            when earth has not yet fully
            unfurled. Can you
          feel a melody lift over the wilds,
                          through the spring fields,
                          through rivers and oceans,
       
                                          finding its story to tell?
the year 300
inspired by a line in Hush by Donna Jo Napoli
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                   the dust never settles
                  in these
                    streets,
                 always drifting, shifting;
           scattered by the wind
       
          searching for a place
                   to call
                       home.
the dust never settles
uncreative name i'm sorry ;-;
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Think back, my dear;
can you remember,
remember the sprawling fields of years ago?
The gentle hums of farm vehicles as they roll on by
through sweet summer lanes        
                         and white fences long gone.

Do you remember the untroubled laughter of the river
and the songs she sang along with the birds?
                         among the hares and the youngest deer, their noses twitching,
                         warming the morning air with their breath,

and, oh, the ivy curling its way around tall resplendent pillars like tendrils reaching for the sky- whereupon shone an equally loving sun, turning all it touched to gold?

Well now the bulldozers have moved in, the people and the bustling roads of pavement (never just soft dirt, no), the veranda looks forlorn, the porch sadder, like it’s been forgotten,
gazing out on the fields and forests of concrete that loom over them-
                         more imposing than protective, really,
remembering times before where it just was and didn’t have to have a-
have a Heritage Listed stamp on it
keeping the big bad wolves
from huffing and puffing,
tearing it down limb by limb,
plank by plank,
fibre
  by
       b  l  o    o d    y
                                    f         i    
                                                       b          r             e                  .


And the stream doesn’t sing anymore, you know,
missing its birds and the hares and the youngest deer whose noses twitched in the morning air-
                          they’re gone too, along with the farm vehicles and sprawling fields
                          and the white picket fence,
                          and now all we can do is think back,
                          my dear.
think back, my dear
an older poem of mine. submitted to a contest but didn't win anything so i guess it's okay to put it here now?
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KyaniteArcher

Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
Australia
please don't thank me for the fave c:
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:iconmousemaster42:
MouseMaster42 Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2014  Student Digital Artist
Thanks for the fav! :iconglomp2plz: Hope this year is going well for you
Reply
:iconkyanitearcher:
KyaniteArcher Featured By Owner Jan 31, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Not particularly, but this year shows a lot of promise! Is college going well for you?
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:iconsilverinkblot:
SilverInkblot Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the faves :)
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:icontyrison:
Tyrison Featured By Owner Jul 10, 2014  Student Writer
A belated thank-you for the collect!
Reply
:icontabbyxthexcat:
TabbyxthexCat Featured By Owner Jun 29, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the favorite. It was ages ago, but I haven't been on in a while.
Reply
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