Prairie Skies

Prairie Skies

Prairie Skies

 

Let me capture for you the beauty

that unfolds before, me on my

mounted steed.

 

The visual beauty of rolling hills

that leaves footprints from the past,

with streaming brooks and jumping

fish, wanting to feed.

 

Pastures, teaming with green grass,

Tumble-weed and clover blossoming

under the feet, of sleepy-eyed buffalo.

 

Shadows, moving about the swaying

boughs of tired trees, that rise up from

ancient pasts, when painted warriors

fell, protecting their rights for prairie

freedom.

 

Sleep in peace and let lilies dress your

ancestry plains, that rise up now like

a dusty beam,cast by a waking golden

sun, as a chugging tractor unfolds the

soil before it, releasing the scented

sweet flutter of thrashed hay.

 

My heart is rooted to the land with the

lonely call of a coyote, as it crosses

before the great divide, dark clouds rise

overhead concealing the sun to the moons

hanging veil to sleep now, tomorrow is

not yet risen.

 

© Copyright by Vincent Moore. All rights reserved

Vincent Moore

Vincent Moore

Vincent Moore pens his thoughts about many things and has a style all his own. Sometimes, he parties with words excessively and it becomes necessary to publish quickly lest his work be lost in the dark corners of his room or his mind. Vincent will lead you into mysterious worlds that are strange yet somehow familiar, worlds that will leave you unsettled and breathless for more.

He was born and raised in Montreal Canada among the Irish, Brits, Italians and French. Point St Charles (commonly called The Point) was the Hell’s kitchen of Montreal. He played, cried, laughed and fought on the street corners, survival was an instinct and watching each others back important. Vincent left home at 17 to find his way in the world, failure and success he had plenty of. He studied the Arts and loved to draw and paint. Took acting lessons and envied those on the stage under the bright lights and hoped to some day become an actor, writer, playwright or painter. Vincent welcomes you to his world of mystery, fantasy and solitude. You can find a few of his writings in one of 3 books he's published.In Absinthia- In Melancholia and In Passionata.
Vincent Moore

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Vincent Moore

Vincent Moore pens his thoughts about many things and has a style all his own. Sometimes, he parties with words excessively and it becomes necessary to publish quickly lest his work be lost in the dark corners of his room or his mind. Vincent will lead you into mysterious worlds that are strange yet somehow familiar, worlds that will leave you unsettled and breathless for more. He was born and raised in Montreal Canada among the Irish, Brits, Italians and French. Point St Charles (commonly called The Point) was the Hell’s kitchen of Montreal. He played, cried, laughed and fought on the street corners, survival was an instinct and watching each others back important. Vincent left home at 17 to find his way in the world, failure and success he had plenty of. He studied the Arts and loved to draw and paint. Took acting lessons and envied those on the stage under the bright lights and hoped to some day become an actor, writer, playwright or painter. Vincent welcomes you to his world of mystery, fantasy and solitude. You can find a few of his writings in one of 3 books he's published. In Absinthia- In Melancholia and In Passionata.

9 thoughts on “Prairie Skies

  • August 19, 2017 at 4:40 AM
    Permalink

    Where once the Native Americans roamed freely in a land of beauty and Nature’s best. I love the image you have painted here, Vincent. You know how much I love Native American history. Well done, dear friend.

    Reply
    • August 19, 2017 at 5:19 AM
      Permalink

      Thank you Phyllis, I was stirred to pen this from a legend on the Prairies here. I thought of you when I posted it here. “The story behind it is very much part of Manitoba folklore. In this territory, west of Winnipeg and where the oldest church west of the Red River stands (St. Francois Xavier), an old legend is still told: A Sioux Indian Chief wished to marry the beautiful daughter of an Assiniboine Chief. The Assiniboine Chief, however, gave his daughter’s hand to a Cree Chief whom she loved. The. Cree offered a rare snow-white horse as a gift. The angry Sioux pursued the Cree and his bride whose father had returned the horse to help them escape. The Sioux killed them both but the horse escaped. For years it was seen roaming the surrounding Plain. In memory of the two newly weds, this part of the prairie became known as White Horse Plain.” Glad you liked i Phyllis.

      Reply
  • August 19, 2017 at 7:33 AM
    Permalink

    Vincent,

    So glad you are back! And, once again, your poem, above, is magical in its ability to take me to this beautiful place in all its grandeur.

    I love how when I read your poetry, Vincent, I am taken to these many impressive, and magnificent places in which you describe so effortlessly, yet breathtakingly so.

    Hugs!

    Tamara

    Reply
    • August 19, 2017 at 10:16 AM
      Permalink

      Well thank you Tamara for your kind review. Happy that it moved you so, I was moved by its historic value to the Prairie Indians here.

      Reply
  • August 19, 2017 at 11:55 PM
    Permalink

    Beauty captured and so descriptive of a land so loved. Perfect imagery so evocative and magnificent. great work Vincent.

    Reply
    • August 20, 2017 at 7:06 AM
      Permalink

      Thank you my friend, the Prairie skies I live under radiate much of our past, we walk in harmony with it, the Aboriginals forged a future for many, unfortunately at a very heavy cost.

      Reply

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