The indians called the Great Smoky mountains, the land of smoke, the mist from the trees clouding the mountains especially in the morning. I used the sonnet form.
Ascending from mountain peaks soars higher
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
Written on 2026-06-11 at 04:07
Tags Sonnet
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Land Of Blue Smoke
Looking out a window visions of smokeAscending from mountain peaks soars higher
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
Written on 2026-06-11 at 04:07
Tags Sonnet
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
