Stasa Stevanovic
Hello, welcome to my page. My name is Stasa Stevanovic, and I love writing, long hikes in nature, camping, my cat, and Colorado. Below are some of the writing pieces that I have written in this class.
Nature Sonnet
The sun gleans its light from behind the forlorn peaks
And the daisies bend their delicate heads toward the light
And frost tips the rosy sky and crystalline creeks
As the summits watch on towards the night
When the moon slips on her nightly gown
And gleams with glowing silver radiance
The rivers upturn their faces to glimpse the sundown
And watch the celestial lights wink in the distance
As the daisies bow their heads in subdued silence
The dark velvet cloak of night drops over the sky
But, deep in the twilight, fireflies flit a glowing ambiance
And dance their elegant symphony, twirling and twinkling by
For no man could see anything more pure
Than this elegant, shining being that is nature.
Diamante Poem
Stars
Crystalline, Gleaming
Singing, Glowing, Winking
Lantern, Firefly. . . Shadow, Cloak
Hiding, Enveloping, Drifting
Soothing, Nebulous
Night
Nature Haiku - Set Of 3
Changing Seasons Autumn’s breath blows cold,
pale sage and ochre gold
tired leaves brush earth
Autumnal Tranquility
Touched by autumn’s winds
a pale yellow petal falls
quietly to rest
The Moon
The moon’s poetry
sings a lullaby above
the distant stars
Carpe Diem Poem
What is a living, breathing being today,
Might be a skull in the ground on the morrow
But let us cherish these simple lives
And not be brought down with sorrow
Don’t be overtaken by the dark wings of the crow
For beneath the skull, flowers will always grow
And let this be a message to you
Seize the day, and always stay true
Nature Origin Story
How The Animals Came To Have Colors
Darkness dropped quietly over the sky, covering the gray with a shade of obsidian.
You see, this was before color. Before the shining, elegant jade of the Quetzal, before the startling blue of the Poison-frog,
before the gleaming azure and ochre of the King-fishers.
Back when color didn’t exist, every animal’s coat was leached of all color, and was colored a dark, drab gray,
The color of a blood-sucked grub, the color of a riverbed stone. Even the beaten dirt, and the forests,
And the ocean, and the sky were all the same shade of gray, save for one animal.
This animal was Grey Heron. You see, back then, she was the most resplendent in color.
She shone ruby, garnet, tourmaline, sapphire, and every other color in the world.
Grey Heron was revered and worshipped. However, her color didn’t come from nowhere. Deep in the heavens, where she resided,
She kept a lake full of trapped color. The glowing shades shone and bubbled in a river of rainbows.
Each and every day, Grey Heron would bathe in her bayou of colors, coating her feathers in
Vibrant hues,
Dyeing her soft down in vivid shades of lavender and rose, in ochre and vermillion, sapphire and turquoise.
On occasions Grey Heron would let the colors free, and allow them to dot the sky in a
light show for her viewing pleasure, waving and dancing in broad curtains of light.
Not everyone was happy with this, you know. Animals yearned for those colors
To dye their scales, or fur, or feathers. The Pheasant pined for golden feathers, and
The Tamarin desired Grey Heron’s ochre shades.
Thus,
Many were unhappy with these conditions.
So it came, the animals agreed to send a few envoys to the lair of Grey Heron, deep in the heavens. The wise tiger,
The Pheasant, and the Quetzal traveled far and wide, searching for Grey Heron’s home.
And so the animals set off on their journey towards Grey Heron.
It was a long, harsh journey through the sky, traveling towards the ever-darkening center of the glassy sky.
Finally, the creatures reached Grey Heron’s lake of hues, bedraggled and exhausted.
Grey Heron was livid with rage when she found that the animals had found her lake of colors.
To drive the animals away, Grey Heron called upon the rains to fall.
She called upon floods and downpours to fall, raging storms and monsoons, in order to send the animals away..
However, Grey Heron had one flaw. As the rain poured and poured down in torrents,
The lake of colors grew and grew, until it was overflowing. The lake spilled over,
Pouring colors onto the face of the Earth, and onto every creature that lived on it.
Now, as the colors leaked and dripped onto the Earth, the animals found themselves covered
In brilliant colors, just as they had always dreamed of.
Personification Poem
The concerto of a lilting tune
Is played at twilight, by the Desert Moon
There she sits, a rose abloom,
Everything glowing, under a Desert Moon
She shows us what we need to see,
A calling cry, a desperate plea
She shows us what we need to be,
A blooming rose, a growing tree
At night she sits, with her violin,
And plays a melody, neat and prim
With soulful notes, and musical spin,
Trying to tell us that we all fit in
O’, to this Desert Moon,
Who sings and spins her lilting tune,
There she sits, a rose abloom,
Everything glowing, under a Desert Moon.
Bird's Eye View Story
Barn Owl
The night sky enveloped my beige wings in feathers of darkness. I floated soundlessly over the desert cliffs, searching for prey with my sharp eyes. The deep maple-colored rocks surrounded the small river, which was bubbling and gurgling lazily below me. The landscape spread out under me, ever-widening and never-ending. Agave bushes and melon-colored marigolds floated and danced in the near-silent wind, and sage-green and ochre lichens clung to the garnet stones that were clustered in my field of vision.
The cool breeze shivered down my spine, ruffling the ivory feathers around my face. My eyes watered slightly as I fluffed my feathers against the breeze. Something small and brown flickered in the corner of my vision. I turned my head violently around, watching the expansive cliffs spanning to the edge of my vision. Spiraling downwards, the ground came rushing up to me as I swooped and tumbled, catching the field mouse quickly before it popped down below the red dirt. Blood soaked my talons and the delicious smell of meat filled my nostrils.
I turned back around and swooped upwards once more, again watching the cliffs as they spiraled smaller and smaller, and more of them crowding my vision. I was eating well tonight.
Disclaimer: These photos shown beside the link for the writing piece are merely for aesthetic appeal, and they have little to do with the actual story or poem itself.