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claire-s-1Poems
The water’s new Purpose is to carry the old salmon into the Earth. To harbor the young, watch them grow, Show them the ways and streams of life. It brings them with current’s flows Down the river where the flow recycles. After the offspring are born, their body recycles Into the river where the new glimmering fish swim up stream in a new Trail. A river that curves like a beaten path pushes down on the fish when it flows Underneath the soil and Earth. This is where the lowest forms of life Live in the dark and cold but always grow. As I age, I grow When I die, my body recycles. I realize that I know how to love life. I will come back replenished and new. My body is one with the Earth, My spirit roams and flows. I am the river in the morning rays of sun that flows, I am the blooming golden sunflower will grow, I am the animal of all different shapes and sizes that belong to the Earth. I live because of the recycles, Like the grass that is long and not new. I am all of nature’s life. Soft, mossy grass that I step on is pulsing with life. It moves and flows In and out of the old and new. With its knowledge it learns to grow. It creates, destroys, and recycles Land, rivers, oceans, and the Earth. My sun streaked curls lay gently on the Earth As I hear the ground race and scurry with life. The past turns, contracts, and recycles. A faint thunder of the brook is heard as it bends and flows. Here in the trees, I have watched the young fledglings grow, I let myself go, as I turn my body in and turn old to new. The sun comes up new and warm. It heats the Earth As it grows in the sky and brings the plants to life. When the sun goes down, the moonlight flows and the sky recycles.
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Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 1:42 PM UTC
The Circle of Life ( a sestina)
The water’s new Purpose is to carry the old salmon into the Earth. To harbor the young, watch them grow, Show them the ways and streams of life. It brings them with current’s flows Down the river where the flow recycles. After the offspring are born, their body recycles Into the river where the new glimmering fish swim up stream in a new Trail. A river that curves like a beaten path pushes down on the fish when it flows Underneath the soil and Earth. This is where the lowest forms of life Live in the dark and cold but always grow. As I age, I grow When I die, my body recycles. I realize that I know how to love life. I will come back replenished and new. My body is one with the Earth, My spirit roams and flows. I am the river in the morning rays of sun that flows, I am the blooming golden sunflower will grow, I am the animal of all different shapes and sizes that belong to the Earth. I live because of the recycles, Like the grass that is long and not new. I am all of nature’s life. Soft, mossy grass that I step on is pulsing with life. It moves and flows In and out of the old and new. With its knowledge it learns to grow. It creates, destroys, and recycles Land, rivers, oceans, and the Earth. My sun streaked curls lay gently on the Earth As I hear the ground race and scurry with life. The past turns, contracts, and recycles. A faint thunder of the brook is heard as it bends and flows. Here in the trees, I have watched the young fledglings grow, I let myself go, as I turn my body in and turn old to new. The sun comes up new and warm. It heats the Earth As it grows in the sky and brings the plants to life. When the sun goes down, the moonlight flows and the sky recycles.
This is a poem that I wrote for school. Please comment Copyright 2010
Written by
claire-s-1
American
Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 1:42 PM UTC
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