I wish I lived in a City on a Cloud
Hey all!
So seems like I've been updating a lot more than I have in a while lately. That may have made little sense... anyways... I found some of my poetry from my creative Writing class and I thought I would post my favourite one. It's a mimic of an Edgar Allan Poe Poem.
Anyways, enjoy.
The City on a Cloud
Pride has raised herself a throne
atop the mountains where she hath flown.
Far up within the cloudy sky
where ‘a hand for a hand and an eye for an eye’
shall only be the condemners’ cry.
There walls of mist surround the town
resemble nothing on our ground,
beneath the sky of bluish white
where sorrow’s just a muffled light.
No shadows are cast on the pearl streets
in the morn or the eve in a city of white sheets;
but light that seeps through cracks and pores-
and floods the town with more and more
lifts doves and dreams up to soar
Above a breeze, far and free-
Above the trees, silently-
Past hills- past cliffs- past shooting stars-
Past glossy lakes- past Sahara’s scars-
Past caverns hidden amidst the world
of hopes unfurled that twirl and swirl,
yet sometimes lost when sorrow creeps
into a dreamless, silent sleep.
But hopes and dreams you cannot see,
beneath the sky of bluish white,
where sorrow’s just a muffled light.
So illuminate the world below
the city on clouds, where dreams go.
And fly up to this beauteous town.
Fly on your wishes, and don’t look down.
At night the city sleeps on moonlight-
a calming glow of offish-white,
with stars that twinkle like in rhymes,
and fly like flies, but only sometimes.
Lullabies are sung by nightingales
rippling through the sky, soft and frail.
And when the sun decides to rise,
an orange gleam will wake your eyes.
and fill the sky with suspended light
of orange and red, vibrant and bright.
No ground is covered with morning dew,
or frost, or icicles, or puddles too.
In this city on a cloud,
it seems there are no faults allowed.
But lo, a drop forsakes the sky
and the ground of the city starts to cry.
Lightening fills, blinding soft glows.
Thunder roars above and below.
The city quakes and crumbles down
through cracks and pores of the ground
beneath the sky of greyish white,
where sorrow’s just a muffled light.
And when, the rain ceases to fall,
and colours stretch across the sky,
no light will be obscured at all,
and dreams and hopes will start to fly.
I apologize for being an asshole