amaranthh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greenling) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2020-04-30 09:27 am
greenling) wrote in rainbowfic2020-04-30 09:27 am
Entry tags:
Proper Terms Purple #11
Name: Greenling
Story: Various
Colors: Proper Terms Purple #11 (Murmuration)
Supplies and Styles: None
Word Count: 1766
Rating: G
Warnings: Just some bad rhymes.
Poetry attempt for April! I've been working on this but I'm not gonna make two more for a miniature collection. First one is technically Ridgeverse, other two are random character things.
Up in the coverts of the mesa
there are always birds.
Flycatchers and orioles.
They came with the people
they drink from the reservoir
hide in the windbreaks we planted
eat the trash and the bugs in the trash
but they nest in the side of the mesa.
Tikkita tikkita tikkita
in the long sunshadow of the eastern wall
as the generators hum below.
--
Change is chances. Chains ajingle jarring charmed- chastened;
alright I'll right all right, anyway, awkward? Awry? Aching?
Everything.
An echo isn't ordinarily understood yet.
So we slip inside to see.
--
Tho' it may come to thee, my love,
through bristle-branch and warren,
or whispers that from autumn leaves
unseasonable are torn,
swiftly I reply to troth
thou mad'st with blood and thorn.
Story: Various
Colors: Proper Terms Purple #11 (Murmuration)
Supplies and Styles: None
Word Count: 1766
Rating: G
Warnings: Just some bad rhymes.
Poetry attempt for April! I've been working on this but I'm not gonna make two more for a miniature collection. First one is technically Ridgeverse, other two are random character things.
Up in the coverts of the mesa
there are always birds.
Flycatchers and orioles.
They came with the people
they drink from the reservoir
hide in the windbreaks we planted
eat the trash and the bugs in the trash
but they nest in the side of the mesa.
Tikkita tikkita tikkita
in the long sunshadow of the eastern wall
as the generators hum below.
--
Change is chances. Chains ajingle jarring charmed- chastened;
alright I'll right all right, anyway, awkward? Awry? Aching?
Everything.
An echo isn't ordinarily understood yet.
So we slip inside to see.
--
Tho' it may come to thee, my love,
through bristle-branch and warren,
or whispers that from autumn leaves
unseasonable are torn,
swiftly I reply to troth
thou mad'st with blood and thorn.