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Nova Scotia/ Winter`s Global Tapestry

by Tigger23 

Posted: 14 October 2006
Word Count: 377


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Nova Scotia

The laugh of the seagulls echoes in the sodium light of a street lamp
one hundred miles from the coast.
Half a world away, the Aurora Borealis explodes like a firecracker
across the coast of Nova Scotia.
The piper plays a centuries old lament,
caught somewhere between the concrete and the abstract.

In its wintry despair the sea shares it secrets, silently.
The clouds cry in torrents of rain and hail.
A distant nebulae lights the way home
For anybody who might be lost,
Who does not know the price,
Or how to pay back the cost.

The year is reaching its natural end,
I donít know what we will become, my friend.
I canít make promises we know we canít keep.
We canít be expected to pay, the cost is too steep.

Under a star filled sky, under a dark crescent moon,
The seagulls still laugh,
and the Piper tries to sound sad in the Key of G major,
to play his heart through an improvised tune.

I see myself in the faces of people I used to know.
I watch the lights change, and the shadows begin to grow,
And half a world away, the Aurora Borealis explodes like a firecracker
across the coast of Nova Scotia.




Winterís Global Tapestry

Icicles hang like silence,
While the last of the summer waits in a puddle of raindrops.
The spiderís web hang in the air,
Half spun, half finished, and half undone.

Virgin snow falls in December,
And the children are the first to make their mark,
Winter weaves a tapestry of snow white,
Crimson leaves, and deep black night.
Shades of long shadow, and breath in freezing air
Highlight the season.

The last of the rain falls from trees,
The first of the snow falls from snowmen,
Melted and gone,
Leaving nothing but coal eyes and buttons,
And a carrot nose.

Icicles hang like silence,
While the last of the summer evaporate in a puddle of raindrops.

October ghost and November Firework,
December presents and Januaryís new hopes,
The old feeling the season,
and the children learning the ropes.
From the melancholia in the air,to hope being reborn
Icicles hang like silence,
While the last of the summer freezes in a puddle of raindrops.






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Comments by other Members



joanie at 19:17 on 15 October 2006  Report this post
Hi Tigger. I just love repetition amd it is wonderful in Nova Scotia. I think that the capitals at the start of lines should be consistent; I would prefer capitals as in prose, but I think you need to decide whether you want one or the other. Although I love rhyme, it jarred in the third stanza because it didn't seem to appear anywhere else.

There are some wonderful images here; I really enjoyed reading.

joanie



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