Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
(And I've been picking dandelions) The rush of wind chases a wayward cloud Over the foliage's luscious green mounds It billows on its good fortune allowed Feeding flowers leave stock's roots underground Petals bloom; centered bud's pollinations The sun burdens and caresses at once The bumble lost its edge to pollutants Overcome in the tepid meadows grace The seasons start to grow long and narrow Encompassing the changing of our times within their altering breadths; to and fro It's shown upon the rocks face's in tides She's beauty, ruffling with sents of sweet dew And in her pluck, spring has become renewed
0
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 8:44 PM UTC
Sonnet #64 There are many flowers in the meadow
(And I've been picking dandelions) The rush of wind chases a wayward cloud Over the foliage's luscious green mounds It billows on its good fortune allowed Feeding flowers leave stock's roots underground Petals bloom; centered bud's pollinations The sun burdens and caresses at once The bumble lost its edge to pollutants Overcome in the tepid meadows grace The seasons start to grow long and narrow Encompassing the changing of our times within their altering breadths; to and fro It's shown upon the rocks face's in tides She's beauty, ruffling with sents of sweet dew And in her pluck, spring has become renewed
jurtin-albine
Written by
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 8:44 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem