Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
  May 2020 Theresa
Lord Byron
To sit on rocks, to muse o’er flood and fell,
To slowly trace the forest’s shady scene,
Where things that own not man’s dominion dwell,
And mortal foot hath ne’er or rarely been;
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
With the wild flock that never needs a fold;
Alone o’er steeps and foaming falls to lean;
This is not solitude, ’tis but to hold
Converse with Nature’s charms, and view her stores unrolled.

But midst the crowd, the hurry, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel and to possess,
And roam alone, the world’s tired denizen,
With none who bless us, none whom we can bless;
Minions of splendour shrinking from distress!
None that, with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not, would seem to smile the less
Of all the flattered, followed, sought and sued;
This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!
  May 2020 Theresa
Chloe DeAngelis
I live for dandelions
That bloom between the cracks
Blinding strikes of happiness
Thriving in desecration

Have you ever seen a field of them?
Reclaiming where they may
It nary ceases to amaze
They always seem to say:

“Life continues”
If a flower can retake concrete, then I can make it through too.
  Apr 2020 Theresa
Is skeleton,
A soul lives
These rag n' bones

Flesh & blood
Runs beneath
Warm in
A river of veins
Finding heart

A soul at ease
From the inside
In words from
These rag n' bones
  Apr 2020 Theresa
for the first time in years, it aches
yes, tiny heart, heavy chest

for the love that is absent
no, little words matter still

for the remains of a shattered soul
yes, its own life is at stake

– billiondays
© 2020 } billiondays
Theresa Apr 2020
Small fingers drawing in the sand
And warm skin under my hand
And time, time to take it in
Light glitters on the peaceful water
Air smells of salt and sleep
Time for this ocean, it’s deep
A body free, and love as far as I can see
I hope my fingers will draw in the sand
And, my soul makes it safely 'til the end
Theresa Apr 2020
There are many strings to my heart
Nudge them and pull them apart
Music will always hold them
And play its ancient harp
Theresa Apr 2020
trees spread their wings welcoming and hugging an uncertain spring
Beautiful it comes to life, there is no need for anything
Ebb and flow stirred by the moon, seasons changing way too soon
Next page