From Paintings to stories- Creative writing on "Fall of Icarus"
"Hey dear old dear Shepherd, " I said, "what good does it do to let your sheep out this time of the day? "
"Dear old dear Angler, " he said, "what good does it do for an Angler who just sits here all day? "
"Dear old dear Shepherd, " I said, "what good does it do for sheep to be fed on bare land? "
"Dear old dear Angler, " he said, "what good does it do for an Angler to go home with bare hands? "
"It is not easy these days you know? Just another day I say, just another day I say."
"Dear old dear Ploughman, " I said, "do you ever rest? "
"Dear old dear Angler, " he said, "not a moment to waste."
"Dear old dear Ploughman, " I said, "can't you take a break? "
"Dear old dear Angler, " he said, "not even if a mortal beside me is dead."
"Take it easy dear old Ploughman, it's just another day I say, just another day I say."
It was a fine day, fair wind chasing the ships along on the way, the sun bright yet brittle, smiling at me with a shinning gaze, painting the sky with the color of hay. Me? I was just sitting by the bay, waiting for the end of this another day.
Suddenly near where the golden sun had laid, I could see a creature far and vague,
"That's a big bird, " I said, "for which might worth an ounce to trade! "
"Mind your own business dear old fisherman, " said the Shepherd, "or you'd be hungry till May."
Then afterwards not a word was made, I just stood silent to wait, for the bird which could make my day.
This flying creature looked like an angel or some kind, well, at least so its shadow had portrayed.
"Wait! " I thought to myself, "that might be the answer to my faith! All these years to the church I've paid! It is the god of the sun! "
But its wings were fading, feathers falling with the setting sun…
"Oh lord, come down to me, " I prayed and prayed, "my dear god on the bay I await, for decades and decades, for your charm of luck any command I shall obey."
Standing on the shore I waved and waved, hoping this god would come my way.
Not long after a delay, the god turned to me with a terrified and horried face.
"Immortals are delicately made, " I thought, "but who cares if it's bring me to the heaven's gate? "
I held my hands out to welcome my fate, but "PUMPT! "
Off into the ocean the god faded away, it happened so quickly that it's even too late to tell my mates.
"The god has finished with the day…Might even be heading for the maiden who awaits! " I thought, "Just another day, Yet another day I say."
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (From Paintings to stories- Creative writing on "Fall of Icarus" by Lilx Siu )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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