Lonna
12-12-2002, 11:16 PM
http://www.lonnawilliams.com/image2120.gif
I originally made this a reply, but I think it
would be better as a new thread (sorry):
Hello, fellow writers. Can I join the Guild of Writers?
Where do you draw the line between prose and poetry? Aren't many of Tolkien's landscape descriptions pure poetry, even though written in prose?
Anyway, I have some prose poetry, from my fantasy book "Selah of the Summit" (available through Amazon.com):
"Come, let me show you something," he said,
pulling her with him past the camp and partway
up the slope behind them.
They found an outcropping of rocks
like a cave upon a cliff and stood there, sheltered.
From that spot they couls see great vistas of peaks
that rose and fell before them,
fading toward the still-distant Summit.
"It is still so far away," Selah whispered.
"But closer than before. You can see the rise and fall
of the Highlands that lead to the Summit," he explained.
"Remember how it looks, Selah.
Put the picture in your mind and always remember."
"You will help me remember," she joked,
not wanting to be serious.
Before he could reply, lightning arched across the sky,
splintering into a dozen jagged, shimmering fingers.
Thunder followed so quickly that Selah
could not tell where the lightning ended
and the thunder began.
Then the rain fell--more water than Selah
had seen in her lifetime.
It looked lika a gray curtain
between the clouds and the land.
It covered the grass and rocks and filled
the air with a smell
Selah would always remember.
"It is so beautiful," she said,
her voice light with joy.
Micah reached for her hand.
A crash of thunder drew her eyes away.
Without thinking, she stepped out from
the sheltering rocks. Micah followed her,
and together they stood on a cliff in the storm,
rain pouring over them,
anointing them,
soaking them to their skin,
and filling all the thirsty mountains. (from page 52 & 53)
;)
I originally made this a reply, but I think it
would be better as a new thread (sorry):
Hello, fellow writers. Can I join the Guild of Writers?
Where do you draw the line between prose and poetry? Aren't many of Tolkien's landscape descriptions pure poetry, even though written in prose?
Anyway, I have some prose poetry, from my fantasy book "Selah of the Summit" (available through Amazon.com):
"Come, let me show you something," he said,
pulling her with him past the camp and partway
up the slope behind them.
They found an outcropping of rocks
like a cave upon a cliff and stood there, sheltered.
From that spot they couls see great vistas of peaks
that rose and fell before them,
fading toward the still-distant Summit.
"It is still so far away," Selah whispered.
"But closer than before. You can see the rise and fall
of the Highlands that lead to the Summit," he explained.
"Remember how it looks, Selah.
Put the picture in your mind and always remember."
"You will help me remember," she joked,
not wanting to be serious.
Before he could reply, lightning arched across the sky,
splintering into a dozen jagged, shimmering fingers.
Thunder followed so quickly that Selah
could not tell where the lightning ended
and the thunder began.
Then the rain fell--more water than Selah
had seen in her lifetime.
It looked lika a gray curtain
between the clouds and the land.
It covered the grass and rocks and filled
the air with a smell
Selah would always remember.
"It is so beautiful," she said,
her voice light with joy.
Micah reached for her hand.
A crash of thunder drew her eyes away.
Without thinking, she stepped out from
the sheltering rocks. Micah followed her,
and together they stood on a cliff in the storm,
rain pouring over them,
anointing them,
soaking them to their skin,
and filling all the thirsty mountains. (from page 52 & 53)
;)