Poems for Planets: Earth

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More planetary goodness at hand. I was not looking forward to writing about this particular planet. The association I have with said planet opens up more doors than I am willing to walk into.

It comes as no surprise than my research for planet earth opened up the mother of all labyrinths, trying to snake some content out of it was a trying affair. I picked a poetry form and go stuck in, playing on information and themes already at hand.

Enjoy.

 

Earth: Elegy

 

Looking at your face, I meet the gruiling test,

A quest to piece together your former best.

I fail to pierce the black that crowds your features,

You have bled your soul for morbid creatures.

 

What a host of wealth your body brought to light.

Boasting so much brilliance day and night.

Flora and fauna spawned in vibrant hues of truth,

Only to turn to lies for mortal use.

 

 

Your sacrifice has given us centuries of hope.

A gift we are holding close on thinning rope.

You have hosted both parasites and pioneers,

Behind the tears I celebrate the coming years.

BN.

Writing 201, Assignment 5: Elegy – Fog

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It feels as though assignment 5 of this course has come around fairly quickly. Fortunately I have had a chance to recover from my exertions during assignment 4. Today’s prompt is “Fog”, as usual the good folks of The Daily Post allow a great deal of creativity with the days theme. The poetic device suggested for today’s assignments is the Metaphor. The form for today will be Elegy.

Elegy
ˈɛlɪdʒi/
noun
1.(in modern literature) a poem of serious reflection, typically a lament for the dead.
synonyms: funeral poem/song, burial hymn, lament, dirge, plaint, requiem, keening; More
2.(in Greek and Latin verse) a poem written in elegiac couplets, as notably by Catullus and Propertius.

My concrete curse has left me here, void of any sweetness.

The sour sun has found me, foolish and full of weakness.

Defeated, rendered, speechless,
suffocating in a spectrum,

Plectrums of vivid voice penetrating my souls septum.

My shroud of sureness withered by effervescence of clarity,

Naivety holds ground on ever lessening gravity.

Greys, of golden days, are relegated to myth.

My misted haze, youth, has settled in an abyss.

(C) Saili Katebe