A fragment of the whole

Time stored all, but kept its council.

Wrote no history of our creation,

but chronicled instead, 

the ancient forests,

the ceaseless oceans.

Aeons passed, ember became fire,

whilst multi hued moths gathered 

with wild mischief in their wings.

A different species, populating

every space, but sharing none. 

Still though, the forests bloomed,

the tide ebbed and flowed,

as chameleon like, nature adapted,

nurturing the windblown seed,

the hospitality of birdsong.                      

An ending or sorts came by and by, 

a closing of the account. But it did not 

scar the tree, or venture where 

sea and sand were met;

and the Magi proved no wiser than 

the humble shepherds on the hill,

who had not calculated,

but knew the way.

             

                ~~~~~~

Metal skeletons of the passing still 

bestride the land. Crows congregate, 

solemn in their contemplation 

of silent lines reaching out,

seeking to communicate 
with what is longer there.

And the white horse carved into

the hillside is only resting.

Reviews

[Relic]

Millions of years of earthquakes, tornadoes, volcanos, floods...and yet, the earth adapts and moves forward. Boy, would I have loved to see a dinosaur or two. haha

Great writing, Beccy.

[alanwgraham]

This is a magical story of our brief and I'll fated sojourn on this green and pleasant land. (at least i think that is what it's about) Your images are quite beautiful (the moths and magi two of many). I may be misreading the line but should it read 'what is no longer there'
I thought this was real class!
Alan

[SkinlessFrank]

Wonderful! I am reminded of an account of how little time it would take for Nature to reclaim our human follies were we to suddenly disappear from this orb. Apparently there would be almost no trace of us within a few hundred years. The white horse is indeed only resting.

[Gee]

Hmmm, think the white horse will see us all out. Nature will have its day, either by its own hand or ours in self destruction.
Hope you and the young fella enjoyed your hols

Oops, a joy to read your work Beccy

[Deep]

That is the kind of poetry I want to write, poem is more like an inspiration, thousand stars is less to rate this poem. "Time stored all, but kept its council./Wrote no history of our creation,/but chronicled instead,"

the flow is amazing, and that single string of thought you started unreeling is held intact till last line, last word of the poem. loved reading it. thanks for sharing!
"And the white horse carved into
the hillside is only resting"

[emmajoy]

'Metal skeletons of the passing still ~ bestride the land. Crows congregate ~ solemn in their contemplation of silent lines reaching .. .. '

This is one of the best pieces of writing I've read in almost eleven years, Beccy! You've taken words and flown them to and fro though history, sharing thoughts, sites and imagination as if an oracle blessed. Then you equate what is whilst - galloping on, stopping to surrender, manipulate and mess with.... on and on..to a slowing down of the precioua past and an over-riding destruction of tradition, ancient knowledge, what was if we acknowledge the world's solid core, Humanity's heart. Brilliant.

[h d e rushin]

"but it did not scar the tree, or
venture where sea and sand were met;
and the Magi proved no wiser than
the humble shepherds on the hill"


and i'm sitting here saying to myself, unhuhh...it takes the poet, and more specifically, the women poets of our time to point out (to scream out) that the childs head comes out first, then you start counting the fingers and the toes. Each new thing walks into his or her own empire. The truth of all things have yet to be determined.....great poem my friend...dana

[Jimmy Yetts]

Staggering breadth.
An eloquent and elegant overview--yet, pointedly perceptive and, at times, quite charming in its particulars.
Exceptional work, Beccy!

[Lorry]

I really like the way you start. It almost screams in its softness that we are only passing through and not the main attraction in the greater scheme of things. And then we move on, just as you describe. Taking over everything and anything, in fear of someone else wanting it, or heaven forbid having to share.
We seem to think ourselves so important that it relegates all else to the periphery.
Maybe one day we will learn our lesson, but I reckon that horse has more chance of sprouting wings when it wakes :)
beautifully written, with such softness. And dare I say it, perspective and consideration...I read about those once :)

[Beccy]

Thank you Ken. It was the figure I had in mind when I wrote this.