Zebra Thunderhead
the avenger
- 3,159
- Posts
- 16
- Years
- Age 32
- Massachusetts
- Seen Jul 3, 2013
A prose poem I wrote for Creative Writing, which will go in my poetry portfolio.
They stood atop the cliff, the crimson and cobalt lights behind them reveal the secrets of the meadow grass. The lights wash her out. Shades, hues of the night. Her eyelids drooped, her eyes glazed over. Arms crossed. He asked if she was cold. No answer. He slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him. She nudged it off. She was cold, in her midnight dress. Her wheat hair softly rustled like the burnt leaves that lived in the distance. She could feel the dense smoke dancing around her, and up into her nose. She could hear the last bursts of the extinguishers. She would not look. She could feel the somber aura of the highway and the meadow, the fast paced and the gentle crashing together in a blur of lights and sounds. The grass crunched behind them. A cold voice asked, "Would you like to see your son?"
It's probably one of my better writing pieces. Comments?
They stood atop the cliff, the crimson and cobalt lights behind them reveal the secrets of the meadow grass. The lights wash her out. Shades, hues of the night. Her eyelids drooped, her eyes glazed over. Arms crossed. He asked if she was cold. No answer. He slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him. She nudged it off. She was cold, in her midnight dress. Her wheat hair softly rustled like the burnt leaves that lived in the distance. She could feel the dense smoke dancing around her, and up into her nose. She could hear the last bursts of the extinguishers. She would not look. She could feel the somber aura of the highway and the meadow, the fast paced and the gentle crashing together in a blur of lights and sounds. The grass crunched behind them. A cold voice asked, "Would you like to see your son?"
It's probably one of my better writing pieces. Comments?