I.
Their caravan arrives late
to wait in the dark
—a narrow gateway—
Inside, a watery park
outside, a lion growls
Spread out for the sunrise
the fortune of a rich man
—scattered over red sand—
the sun laughs, a new day opens
an old tale once again.
II.
Above the jungled Maya lands
that wondrous eclipse
—pages of emerald—
How he loved the silvery moon!
she returned his love and
beautiful as the mother moon
prouder than the stars
—she gave him a child—
vast and strong as her parents
beloved by all.
The child shone through her gardens
flowers filled the air
—until love seized her—
an impossible longing
a passion so unfair.
He came as a tiny bird
brave, glorious, fleet
—drinking her flowers—
at night he became a man
hidden in his den.
She chased the four winds crying
“Help me fly to him.”
—her cries shook the earth—
“You are an enormous light
to kill him with a touch.”
She cried the tears of rivers
she flooded the land
—nothing could calm her—
her winds became tornadoes
a council began.
The shamans began drumming
the stars danced in rounds
—take away her powers—
she’ll grow tiny lovely wings
to dart through the light and
at night she’ll seek him deep
in his secret den
—mortal, free and fine—
daughter of the sun and moon
in love forever then.
What are these golden feathers?
How did I change today?
—a scent of jasmine—
the soaring speed of love
the night not far away.
III.
The sun should be very old
but he renews each night
—endless life in light—
he knows the stories of us all
and smiles with sweet delight.
Apologies to Martin Prechtel’s fabulous The Disobedience of the Daughter of the Sun
Their caravan arrives late
to wait in the dark
—a narrow gateway—
Inside, a watery park
outside, a lion growls
Spread out for the sunrise
the fortune of a rich man
—scattered over red sand—
the sun laughs, a new day opens
an old tale once again.
II.
Above the jungled Maya lands
that wondrous eclipse
—pages of emerald—
How he loved the silvery moon!
she returned his love and
beautiful as the mother moon
prouder than the stars
—she gave him a child—
vast and strong as her parents
beloved by all.
The child shone through her gardens
flowers filled the air
—until love seized her—
an impossible longing
a passion so unfair.
He came as a tiny bird
brave, glorious, fleet
—drinking her flowers—
at night he became a man
hidden in his den.
She chased the four winds crying
“Help me fly to him.”
—her cries shook the earth—
“You are an enormous light
to kill him with a touch.”
She cried the tears of rivers
she flooded the land
—nothing could calm her—
her winds became tornadoes
a council began.
The shamans began drumming
the stars danced in rounds
—take away her powers—
she’ll grow tiny lovely wings
to dart through the light and
at night she’ll seek him deep
in his secret den
—mortal, free and fine—
daughter of the sun and moon
in love forever then.
What are these golden feathers?
How did I change today?
—a scent of jasmine—
the soaring speed of love
the night not far away.
III.
The sun should be very old
but he renews each night
—endless life in light—
he knows the stories of us all
and smiles with sweet delight.
Apologies to Martin Prechtel’s fabulous The Disobedience of the Daughter of the Sun
We all see things differently...this is a delight. I imagine the your daughter of the sun transforming into a hummingbird...
ReplyDeleteMy story verse are more like chapter books. Some of my Mermaid Verse link up - tell different stories and using Word lists from a couple of different places have helped create other stories too. Have a great day!
Thanks for the comment. It is hard for me to write a story verse, but that was the theme...I just begin and it is there. The whole world acts as a prompt for me! and I go with it.
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