To my poetry corner

THE FLUTE PLAYER

The echo of a flute

played with such care,

no concerns,

no worries.

It plays softly and smooth,

never stopping to breath,

like a balled from some distended time,

it rings through the forest.

So beautiful is the song,

almost hypnotizing melody,

you caN't stop yourself,

you fallow it deeper in to the forest.

You come to a clearing,

there to your amazement,

a man or is it a beast,

for you can not tell.

He stops playing,

"come join me in a walk,

a walk through nature"

you caN't resist his gaze.

He starts up once again,

even more Beautiful then before,

you travel many times,

many places.

Finally you place him,

it was pan,

the god of nature,

then you find your self alone.

Once again alone,

but some how wiser,

the flute echoes in the distance,

then slowly drifts in to nothingness.

Written by

Scott Killpack

   Unearthly Music  

The music of the earth,

far form the hearing of mankind,

to listen with trained ears,

to know of the words.

Some say the music of a flute,

so beautiful that it brings tears,

as graceful as a swan,

to be topped by none.

In a class by itself,

a music never to be written,

never to be known by mortals,

always to live beyond.

A music minuet,

by the greatest of all,

no music of man,

only of nature.

Some also have said,

they have heard it as woodwinds,

others instruments of all kinds,

but it is all these and much more.

it is the creation of life,

even the solitude of death,

the continues change of the seasons,

even the extinction of all life.

for its gods music,

some say gaia,

but it is all these,

for it is the music of the earth.

Written by

Scott Killpack

THE WINDS OF TIME

The winds of time,

blow across the lands,

bring the past,

leaving the future.

Take the men,

to the past,

bringing them back,

across the land.

The winds of time,

on the winds of old,

hiding from the future,

running from the past.

These are the worlds,

the men like to travel,

the worlds of the gods,

where the past and future one.

The winds of time,

that never end,

the wind of time,

that haven'T started.

Written by

Scott Killpack

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