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Bhill Mar 2019
Drip, Drop, Splash

Drip, drop, splash...
Water, as it finds its final resting place below.
Falling with fellow (drops),
Falling off the cliff side, (drip)
Falling to form very special, beautiful waterfall, (splash).
Coming out into the light.
Waters from storms aged years ago.
Making their way through the tiniest of sandstone cracks.
Having been inside the mountains above for eons.
Not seeing daylight for all those years,
What a surprise, when finding themselves
falling and falling,
to make,
Drip, Drop, Splash...

Brian Hill - 2019
Inspired by Poetry in the Park @ Zions
This was inspired by a storm waterfall in Zions National Park today while going to Poetry in the Park poetry class....
KM Hanslik Mar 2018
I can't rain on your parade
I'm tired of dragging myself down;
And we wrote it in sandstone,
So that eventually it'd wear away-

Is it enough that there's evidence
I used to breathe in that same city?

Cause it's raining where I am again,
And I don't wanna add to that misery.

Do you wake and think of me
In the fumes of that city?
In the rushing gutters,
In the choking crowds?

Cause it's raining where I am, and I...
I often think what it does to you.
Jackson Cavalier Jul 2017
Wander worried rambler roam.
Wander down the path of a riverside wood.
Step by step,
Shuffle to and fro.
A Forgotten industry remains.
Man made mines,
Dug out quarries,
Fencing, barbed wire, power lines, and pressure treated wooden poles.
Littering the landscape.
A blood letting favor, favored low.

A hydroelectric dam.

Murky and historical waters enter its mouth,
and then,
exit from its other side.
Constantly *******, and spitting, and churning turbine whine,
Spinning gear stuck,
clamped to the spine.
Luck may have it that these waters may never go dry.
Luck may have it that these currents stay 'live.
Merrily manic, it flows.
Strong and bold,
sparkle, sprung, sold!
Pushes and rolls,
gives and goes.
Electric mother glow.

Neon, argon, blazing blast,
to give city speckled lights a mast.
A grip to grasp, to squeeze, to cast,
shadows in the night.
Yellow, orange, red, and blue,
the shades of dreamers,
with their sorrows leaded, heavy,
holy truths.
Unspoken tomorrows, last goodbyes,
mouthed silently at last
in their heads a film score out of time.

The air is baked, the land is spry.
The sun is shattered through prism pines.
I carry myself upon the leaves, of dead footsteps, make believe.
Native footpaths of long ago
and red sandstone trail of men to behold.
Come to this place and let sights be known,
Come to this place and let sights be known,
histories of ours, histories bygone.
Hiking thoughts put into words. The Red Sandstone Trail is a trail that follows along the Raquette River. The trail-head is located in Colton, NY. The hike is one of historical nature. Many remnants of business and industry remain abandoned along the riverside. A picturesque picture painted by the clash of man made industry, and the awesomeness of nature.
Hannah Hagemann Mar 2017
Sandstone Medicine
Teach me your lessons of resilience
Towering hundreds of feet above me
Iron Red-Orange
Made of Earth's blood
You've stood patient
as rivers lashed through you
trying to erode your body
as tectonic force roared upward
looking for something to give
But here you stand
Wearing your scars proudly
Now they adorn you
Like beautiful pieces of jewlrey
Telling stories of a time long before now
Sandstone Medicine
Singing to me songs of resilience
Pauline Morris Jan 2016
All alone
The seed was sewn
The **** has grown
Close to the bone
I've been dethroned
Turned to sandstone

Watch me crumble
Everything I bumble
So very humble
Everything I fumble
I just mumble
My thoughts are jumbled

My mind is cracked
There's no coming back
I'm afraid I slacked
So much I lack
A joker not a jack
A punch in the back

No wings, can't fly
Only look at the sky
Soulless eyes
Slowly dies
No tears to cry
Into the pan to fry

— The End —