This, my friends, is a technopheasant, because I keep on saying "technopheasant" instead of "technopeasant."


It's hard to think of anyone online as any kind of peasant at all, really. I mean: really.

But sharing art of all kinds online? Sure!

Here's a poem I wrote in an earlier incarnation, before I became a weatherbeaten wanderer.



The Sea Castle
(c) Francesca Forrest

All along, tall and strong,
They built her walls of colored sand
Ground stone and pure white fishes’ bone
Such was the sand at their command.

"Our walls must match the flying foam,
The ocean's weapon, wrecking waves,
And girdle round our city sound,
That we all snug and safe may sleep,
Not fear cold onslaughts from the deep,
Or trembling dream of drowning graves."

Within the walls they made a tower
Topped by glistening needle spires
Which pricked and bled the brilliant light
And graced the ground with rainbows bright.

Curled round the tower, a spiral stair
And windows wove about its sides
And bells with tones as pure and clear
As winter stars in chilly air
Hung suspended from their sills
Chiming in continual breeze.

But like the bells the people trembled
And dismal fears rang in their ears,
For every zephyr's whispered words
Told tales of gales on thunderous seas.

Beneath the tower's sparkling spires,
Behind the walls of sand and pearl,
The folk grew flowers, passed the hours
On fragrance rare and color fair,
Bud, blossom, flower full
In wind to bloom, in sand to grow.

Cinnamon and cardamom and lemon-leaved geranium
Wild thyme and wintergreen and poppies bearing opium
Forget-me-not and bleeding heart and roses in a bright display
Twisted round the sandy ground and over flagstones silver gray.

And coming there were those whose fear
Of dreaded danger drawing near
Led them beside the plants to pray
For refuge from the frothing spume.

Alas, the roaring louder grew;
The crystal bells could not be heard.
The shining spires seemed to darken,
The trembling people turned to hearken
To the rumbling sounds of doom.

A white foam dragon reared its head
And dashed its coils 'gainst the wall.
A minute melted, then remolded,
Talons slashing, water splashing,
Swirling round and round the wall
And causing it at last to fall!

In comes the water, over flowers,
Over spires, over towers
Lost the bells, the spiral stair,
The windows whence the people brave
Watched wonder-struck the curling wave.

Now do you hear the tide draw near?
Painting the sand with artist's hand,
With strange arrays of sea bouquets,
Sea plants of ivory, brown and rose,
Complex design and lacy line?
Now do you find a spiral shard,
A twisted shell the waves discard,
A shimmering curl of mother of pearl?
For far beneath the ocean's riot
In dreamy depth's profoundest quiet
The crystal castle shining stands
And casts, for memory and for song,
Its sea gifts up upon the sands.