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The Ancient Hills

Poetry By: arik Z
Fantasy



A creation story, swiching from my perspective to that of the "ancient hills, Old sentinels standing since earth formed" for angellynn's contest (PLEASE JOIN http://www.booksie.com/poetry/miscellaneous/angellynn/another-unique-contest-getting-even)


Submitted:Oct 7, 2011    Reads: 16    Comments: 4    Likes: 1   


This is for angellynn's contest. The pictuture is here: http://www.booksie.com/poetry/miscellaneous/angellynn/another-unique-contest-getting-even

The Antient Hills

Go inside the ancient hill

That would be my way.

Old sentinels standing since earth formed.

I saw a thousand years go past,

Then more and more and more..

Then plants formed and grew

On my tall bare brown sides

And creatures tramped

Most not know by those who did not see,

See those times when all the hills:

We spoke and others listened.

The ancient beast they spoke to us

They spoke and we spoke back.

We sheltered them inside our caves

And they feared not the Dark.

For Dark would tell us of the things

Which only it could see.

And Wind and Rain and Wave and River

Told us all they knew.

And many others, Thought and Beauty

Others like the Sun

Real, not just fake-

Only a pale copy

Now remains of them, my ancient friends,

but that is not my tale.

Then came to life from our deep caves

From ours and by our will:

The hills allowed the life to come

Into those furred and feathered.

But they were different:

For if we spoke they understood but dimly.

Our speech to them was just a whisper,

Often misunderstood.

And then we knew our time was past.

We knew that soon,

The earth would spit it's fire.

We longed to shield our firstborn,

The first brood of the earth.

We could, for none were stronger than the hills.

But treacherous one, Volcano,

Allowed the fire out.

We had sheltered just a few,

No time to save the rest.

Those with fur and feather,

They were spared.

But now none,

None, save those we hid, can understand

The language of the hills:

Now worm has tunnel in our sides

But ask us he did not,

Now bats are sheltering in our caves

And speak to us they can't,

Now eagle nests amid our peaks

Despite not asking, in our tongue

The blessing of the hills.

I actualy wrote most of this last year in 5th grade, but I editd it a bit now. The presrspective shifts from mine to the hill's.





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