Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jul 2015
wordvango
misty hazed
wakes the sleepy
eyelids closed
you and I sleep...
and you and I are deep.

developing contrapuntal visions
as the wake
we ride, anon,
sounds deep;
ebbs successively;
wounded echoes repeat: guides
ethereal choices
in three separate sections note

whence we awaken,
the tides in gone
the short main theme
the exposition, completes itself. As the
moon goes around again.
now, we are as one.
 Jul 2015
Don Bouchard
Gray skies upward fling
In the vap'rous breath of Spring
Melting mounds of snow
Trickling rivulets slow

Lines of feathered travelers
Nature's hope inspiring harbingers
Vee Northward o'erhead
Calling high and loud and long
Their ceaseless journey song.


Houses buried far below
Including the one we own
Beneath the weight of heavy snow
Crack complainingly and groan,
Wait with unknowing strain
Warm sun's shine to own.
Spring!
Walk your land...
   Eyes to sky
      Azure beauty
         Clouds etheric bright
Rock ashen black
  Trees of umber
    n' greens of grass
      Fresh and alive
Lay on earth
  Smell deep
    the essence
       moist or parched
Walk your land...
     Walk your land...
        Find your
          Home once again
                ☆
        
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.
Remembering to Remember #3
 Jun 2015
Willard Wells
petals of red Rose
dripping early morning dew
opening at dawn
 Jun 2015
wordvango
I will sing of her ankles, the sun and the mighty of earth.
I saw her bareness, there in the baths, a lovely vision dancing.
Then, the dark-clouded son of crocus
startled her.
Once he used to jump over measured ponds, saw the bidding
of King Porcupine, he himself aids violently says, You will live in
lymph nodes and he croaked, my neat-ankled
bather , my dear, jumped and ran away.
A stealthy version of Homer. Stoled.
 Jun 2015
lolita
Your twilight moons
white irises, that flicker
within the nights confines
clasp at the velvet darkness
pulling the stars into orbit
obtaining galaxies of their own
feeding a universal luster
eclipsing at the sight of dawn
 Jun 2015
Joe Cole
You know I got back from my beautiful Maltese holiday about 3 am yesterday
Today I sat and looked at my beautiful garden for the first time in a week
Tiny pastel flowers peer like little faces from dark green foliage
Lavenders vie for space with vibrant California poppies
Hollyhock ready to burst into summer colour
Stand next to shrubs of Rosemary
While sweet peas grow in wild abandon
Through the khaki green yellow branches and twigs
Of my twisted willow trees
The rose bush I planted over the grave of my old cat
Stands in her full glory of weeping red blooms
There is a magical perfume from French and English lavender
Offering their fragrance to bees
Who provide their own unique music to this wondrous panorama
Of wild and cultivated beauty
Yes, there are weeds as you might call them
But they also have there place here and so will be left to grow in peace
To live in harmony with other life
I see my garden as an ever changing work of art
Art that I will never tire of looking at
Natural beauty
 Jun 2015
Chris
~

Fireflies dancing
Amidst twilight desires
*Soft lips in moonlight
Good night Beautiful
 Jun 2015
Helen
Sunset in the sky
low lying
Reminds me of a love
thats dying
So I'll leave the Sunset
where it lies
and think of our Love
*as a Sunrise
© Helen Doogan 1990
 Jun 2015
Sourodeep
A flower so grand
in itself, vivid in
details, following no pattern
like the leaves of the plant.

All the leaves are the same
but a single flower so distinct
one does and the other doesn't
add to the plant's fame.

In its life of just a day, it steals the show
and spreads so much happiness
though the leaves may, in silence keep low,
diligently work for air's cleanliness.


Even then it sticks to the branch
as its life is given by
the apparently dreary plant.
Here, all its coming generations
will choose to be born,
and this plant only will they adorn.
We may be so much accomplished and successful in our life but we should not undermine the value of our roots, things which have helped us to reach where we are now.
 Jun 2015
Mark Parker
There he sits.
The moon is in the sky,
like clockwork.
His personality changed
from yesterday,
along with his clothes.
Tonight, he's draped in stars
and showing only a quarter
of his wonderful personality.
How humble he can be.
He's playing off the light
of the fireflies
like a violinist from a conductor.
Look at that...he's higher
than the shadow connected trees.
My old friend,
you have a flare for the dramatic.
Observing the night....the other night. I always looked up and imagined the moon as a person when I was younger.
 Jun 2015
J Harris
I wanted to write your name down in blood
over and over and over
on slabs of gold and stone
but you prefer to be left alone.

I wanted to build a monument of your face
to overlook your land, your tribes, your home
but you prefer to be left alone.

Instead, I wrote your name on lavender sands,
your birth date on the golden change of winds,
my love for you on the sunset over the Indian Ocean.

I wrote everything for you
on places of scatter
and on places of dissolve.

I wanted to leave your mark on the world
but realized the irony in such
because you are already aligned
with the rising sun and setting moon,
you are already an endless cycle of life and death.

Still, I want to write you down in history
but you don't want to leave your mark on the world,
you don't want your coming and going announced.

To leave my mark on the world,
you said,
I would first have to injure it,
disturb the status quo,
but I would rather be left alone.
Next page