It’s the lushest rainforest I’ve ever seen. If one could say Mother Nature had a life force it would be here, hidden within this vibrant foliage. For me green is the color of life and I think of the exotic creatures found here and I understand why environmentalists are vehemently protecting a forest full of wild animals and their habitats.
To imagine this brilliant life force gone would be painful. There is an ache in my heart picturing the dustlands of a destroyed forest, where nothing can regrow because of how horibly the soil has eroded, stripped of trees. Seeing this century old car buried randomly makes me curious of how the car ended up here; I imagine it’s a fabulous tale. But there’s no one here to tell that story, only me, and miles of greenery. Here in the womb of Mother Nature, one could disappear.
I’m lying in the summer grass. Above me the sky appears as if the heavens are opening. Perhaps brilliant marshmallow clouds behold some greater being, a creator with vision and design? There has to be more to humanity than our randomness in the world. I think that we all have a place, a reason, a purpose. We aren’t accidental and are made specifically to be ‘us.’
It’s a relief the hot sun is blocked by the clouds but I can see the light peeking through as if the sky has provided me an inkling of celestial luminescence. But maybe the sky is only the sky and I’m personifying my beliefs and feelings? But then, maybe faith and the existence of God is demonstrated most superbly by the the earth, nature, and tiny glimpses of gloriousness seen lying in the grass.
“The LaCharta, created by Laura Lamarca, consists of a minimum of 3 stanzas with no maximum length stipulation. Each stanza contains 6 lines. The syllable count is 8 per line in iambic tetrameter and the rhyme scheme is aaaabb ccccdd eeeeff and so on. “La” is Laura Lamarca’s signature and “Charta” in Latin, simply means “poem”.”
The resonance of his voice carries in the arena, an audience enthralled by the first twang of his voice.
He’s a brilliant musician, the epitome of which other Country artists aspire to be –a world wide known musician, a gifted storyteller, with a beautiful famous wife.
The cadence of his final song’s chorus resounds as he considers the eight more shows he’s playing here; the last lyrics hover in the ambience of the audience as he leaves the stage:”Oh, I’ve got friends in low places.”
Note: Where I live, Garth Brooks is performing. His concerts kept selling out so they continued to add new shows, even weekend afternoon performances, until he was performing for nine shows. We’re pretty impressed that he’d play nine shows in our city. If he added a show or two more I’m sure they’d sell out as well; I still couldn’t get tickets 🙂
Thanks to Bastet from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix. This week’s prompt is a soliloquy at a train station. I’ll be using blank verse or unrhymed iambic pentameter as the Barddid.
“Imagine a scene, a train is pulling out of the station and a person standing on the platform looking dejected. What can have happened. Perhaps this person is someone in the station wishing to leave but for some reason hasn’t. “
So leaves the train, so leaves my heart,
Why him I once loved, now I know not?
Must have been his eyes so brilliant a green,
Gems such as emeralds, a sea-green storm brewed.
Was it his cavalier smile, his laugh?
With him I felt wanted, weak in the knees.
I was his Queen, he my adoring King.
He cared for me gently, said I shouldn’t stay —
On my own, for he loved me; fooled me,
Underestimated a woman cruelly scorned.
I saw cracks in the vase, facade crumbled,
An artist’s dream of beauty such a fake,
He left, emptied my pockets of money.
This con thinks he’s safe going to Bahamas,
Since he betrayed me, I say differently.
He’ll be doing some flying, and me thinks he’s done.
Thrown off the tallest bridge, out of the train.
Thank you to Bikergurl for hosting 100 Word Wednesdays.
Cale ensured he arrived at the beach before sunrise. The sun peaked over the mountains in the distance. Then slowly the light crept in to highlight foam capped ocean waters. The light encompassed the night sky, turning darkness into a washed out pale blue accented by a wash of orange.
The brilliant sunrise continued and Cale felt the welcomewarmth in his limbs, humming in rhythm with the tide. He was thrilled, filled with a buoyanthappiness he hadn’t felt in ages.
Shifting his backpack, he noticed the shimmer of gold dust raining down on him, as his body began to float off the beach.
A radiant sparkle in front of him giggled: ” ‘Second star to the right , straight on ’till morning,’ right?” He smiled, no longer a lost boy.