The indians called the Great Smoky mountains, the land of blue smoke, the mist from the trees clouding the mountains especially in the morning. I used the sonnet form.


Land Of Blue Smoke

Looking out a window visions of smoke
Ascending from mountain peaks higher soars
Floating in a blue haze, tops hiding cloaked
In Mystery, veiled by soft cotton spores

Trees climbing a mountain’s rocky surface
Caressing its slope with leafy green shades
Hiding ridges and boulders that service
As weapons against developer blades

Wielded by pirates of natures beauty
Grinding their way upwards to destruction
Of nature’s gifts, defacing god’s duty
To preserve life force against seduction

A thesis of greed performed as progress
Leaving a naked shell as an abscess



Poetry by Kee Zealy The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2026-06-11 at 04:07

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Sameen The PoetBay support member heart!
Such a beautiful poem
2026-06-12


jim The PoetBay support member heart!
When I was very young my family took a trip to the "Smokies." Coming from the flatland of Illinois, seeing mountains for the first time, was an awakening.

Such a beautiful poem.
jim
2026-06-12


arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
Drove through and around there a couple of times and it is breathtaking, in spite of the jetlag and the overstimulation of the whole traveling experience.
2026-06-12