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Sierra Mar 7
Sunny turning violent white.
Everything's still, covered in sheath

Warming breeze under a rain fall
Animals begin to awake

The scorching sun, dripping of sweat
Running freely, adoring the light

Starting to dim, color is falling
Succumbing to the nearing cold

The cycle repeats, never ending
From Winter. Spring. Summer. And Fall
A simple poem. 10 lines, 8 syllables per line about the seasons
Sierra Jun 2018
Dark skies are falling through the town, the mist
Strolls along the damp cobblestone walkway.
He comes alone, only with scythe assist.
Path and scythe, cruelly curved, long and grey.

He walks along, at all never stopping
While this wretched creature beckoned me near.
Held in place, but my heart not yet falling.
Angel of death, a lovely pale reaper.

Embrace of Death is all that gives me hope.
The one whom will take me into the mist.
Reaching in my *****, my soul to *****,
It submitting within his bony fist

Playing with heart-strings, his fateful gest
He, who delivers me eternal rest
Sonnet about the Grimm Reaper
Sierra Jun 2018
"What's your favourite colour?"
"It's blue"

But it's not just blue
It's the colour of loyalty
Of the trust that I placed within you

It's the colour of the sky
On a clear summers day
As beautiful as a swan
Gliding across the still lake

It's the blue that I miss
Then I'm alone
It's the blue that makes me feel love
Feel the warmth inside

Looking into your eyes
I found my favourite colour

"What's your favourite colour?"
"It's blue"

— The End —