Barren plains of dusted earth
Measured days by sunsets worth
A beastly land before you and I
We’re reverent creatures roamed the sky
A humble home of flesh and bone
Where colossus bathed and giants roamed,
stories etched in weathered stone
Wicked bellows behind gnarled teeth
Blazing effervesce at mountains peak
Around for longer than we can perceive
Gone longer than man can intervene
No matter the ferocity of monster
Time settles all things
Caught by an unknowing fiery demise
Rippled earth and Ashen skies
No time lies forgotten I know for sure
Lest we forget the time of the dinosaur
About the Creator
James U. Rizzi
I cant wait to see what I can create here.
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One Final Season
The challenge prompt is to start a story/poem with the last line of an email or letter you recently received. Ok so this one was a lot harder than I thought, and honestly a lot more fun. I set the goal of picking a single email and sticking with the last line no matter what. I really wanted the challenge (especially after making the affirmative decision to do a poem) but after the fifth, If you have any questions or inquiries please contact us here. I decided to ease up and broaden my spectrum. I landed on a rare and infrequent email from Netflix announcing that they’re shutting down their DVD division. The email ending with the line you see below. This for some silly/weird reason made me sad (don’t laugh at me k). Maybe it sparked some still-fastened sadness I held for the departure of Blockbuster (greatest place on earth). After all, you know what they say: grief never goes away, it only changes. (Not sad for Netflix they’ll be aight). So with that quick spark of disparaging inspiration, it got me thinking about grief in general. And how the line: We truly appreciate you being part of our final season: Taken in a different context can be quite powerful, especially when talking about missing someone or something
By James U. Rizzi11 months ago in Poets
Confessions of an Empath
The birds are chirping, and the sun is shining in a cloudless July sky. The vibrancy promises a beautiful day, but the cooing of the Mourning Dove perched on the powerlines seems to be more fitting than the lively songs of the robin flitting through the trees. The melancholic calls of the dove cloak the world in a sadness that hangs like tattered drapes.
By Alyssa Nicoleabout 23 hours ago in Confessions
Comments (1)
HECK YEA! 🦕