A Picture of Mist
Heavily pressed fog glitters
with cold morning air and impenetrable thick haze.
A pure drowning weight thickens
the unheard sounds that rattle accross the grey void
and echo accross the wilderness,
moist with dew.
Throught this dank mist, a
muffled flare shines. Dimmed by the sea of rain,
that all encompassing pressure.
But the wet splashes, waves
of water move aside for this;
the gleaming grey body, shining,
pulsing, moving faster
faster toward the sky, Leaping;
into the void once more.
That lonely indescribable void
omnipitent. Beyond description.
Thickly draping it's formlesness over the distance,
drowning the suffocating void
in soaking grey
that haze which we now run
toward.
The freedom of the sky. The
gift of our wings, those pillars of flame.
And soon land is snatched away.
Taken by theat muddy haze.
Perhaps forever: perhaps an
hour, a minute. But what is time?
It is a hundred things.
And what of love, or hate,
or this;
a man questioning his everything
while plying the clouds above another dawn.
A fast moving staisis.
A soundless Symphony
or beeps, or red lines or.
What?
and Warning or...
Subtle feelings disapear.
Vigorous pressure as direction
changes. Again; Again.
The blood in heart moves from
head to feet.
Hearing the eardrums crack.
The thundering of pounding heart.
Panic. Fear.
The target lights the sky.
The unseen object splinters
over the sky, those senseless colours
in the new glittering wamth
of new dawn.
The pinky shadows cast. Warming
the grey dew.
Clearing the sky from horizon
to horizon. That shimmering spectacle
refracting colours off the
sea, through hot live air
into the pilots tranquil eyes.
That Knight in shining wings,
warrior of the sky.
Tranquily and triumphantly
coming in to rest.
This poem was my first attempt at a
particularly long poem, what I have come to call a "plot poem". A somewhat
of a hybrid of a short story and a poem. "A Picture of Mist" is the poem
of mine which has gone through the most changes. About 4 major structure
changes in all. I still have the original script, in which the name of
the poem was "A Symphonic Picture of Mist", and this title was given because
the Poem's inspiration came from Carl Vine's 3rd Symphony. (Carl Vine is
an Australian Art music Composer.) but later I dropped the Symphonic from
the title. I still wonder if that was indeed wize, because I liked the
symphonic. It seemed to give it a little class. But I have left it at edition
4 for this page.
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