Starlight | Teen Ink


November 4, 2016
By Luckystar78 ELITE, London, Other
Luckystar78 ELITE, London, Other
114 articles 0 photos 97 comments

Favorite Quote:
"..though warm as summer it was fresh as spring." (Thomas Hardy) ("Far from the Madding crowd")

The stars twinkled brilliantly across the black, glittering sky; a wish stained across the white-and-pink cream cakes like a frosting, a vision in blue and harmony. A beautiful gaze flashes across the shadow of moon, the berries plump and still as they drop onto the thorn carpet. A white eclipse stalks the green stork and all the world is tranquil again, a landscape of trees filming the muddied earth. A grey horizon filters through the tall, splintered grass; a fog engulfing the crimson sky in a torrent of rainbows, in streaks of gold and teal and bronze.
A bluish white visage looms over the bloodied sunset, an amber moonlight of amethyst and black metal; and looming, looming silver. A forked tongue spits into the rays of meteors, and the star rushes through the maze like a rocket, an orange and red cylinder of fireballs.
Light blue coats the brown water banks; the thin weeds raising their hair in the air like spikes, pointed towards the sun like a compass; as the green, muddied pools refresh their watered catalogue, their resource of purity.
The rosy pebbles scatter amongst the stone platters; and the ruby-painted diamonds flash their eyelashes towards the light, an agitated dance of flight, of escape.
Gently, gently, nature fill the map of land with water, with life; with a loveliness that arises on the leaves like a blush, like a kiss of posies nestling in the sharp sunlight.
A light slash of colours illustrates a palate of dreams, a paintbrush dipped in a white page, in a black leather art book. The letters fall out of the suitcase of designs, softly, softly, drifts to the ground, a coffee-coloured, creased image of writings; of soul, of ink.
Outside in the peaceful park, the letters scatter as leaves around the gnarled forests; and the voice quietens to a violent nothingness, a pile of records thrust into the brown skip.
Deep, deep, in the rumbles of hills and the rushing, rustling sea; a swan squawks and bobs, bobs, bobs, over the white-tipped waves in a final seal.
The meadows close around the pink and violet flowers; and the black night can immerse the earth in nightlight again, and the starry intruders stamp a blaze of solitude over the watered plants.

The author's comments:

A fantastical, colourful illustration of the innocence and purity of nature.

Similar Articles


This article has 1 comment.

6547ujh BRONZE said...
on Feb. 28 2018 at 9:15 pm
6547ujh BRONZE, Aubrey, Texas
1 article 0 photos 17 comments
You have such beautiful detail. I felt like I was in a much more mellow state of mind after I read this. Well done.