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Desire Feb 23
With the width of the universe's expanse,
outer space holding stars within its hands,
of the millions of stars shooting ablaze,
the Sun somehow shines on you everyday.
2-23-19,   0907HRS
Ella Feb 12
a river of lights disperse dappled
dots on the window  
Static splattered
Spikes of neon beaming into the dark
countless lady birds
pass countless moths
and beat of tarmac below my feet
shake tired heels and toes
The moon smiles as it follows me through the night
and deep voices flow through my socks.
On moonlight night whilst laid In bed with my sweetheart there at my side wide awake watching
her so pretty she look totally unaware I was watching

when a beam of light through a gap In our curtain passed over her beautiful body almost
like halo she bathed In this glorious light

Just at that moments I said to myself my girl looks just like an Angel and laid there watching her breathing then I
snuggled Into her and finally went to
Moonlight passed through a gap In our bedroom curtain
to shine a light like a halo on my Angel laid beside me
I get tired smiling
Facing them beaming
Acting like a ray of the sun
Feeling like the tear of the clouds

Just wanna burst in tears
Just wanna shout my fears
But they need my beaming smile
And not my crying eyes
K Balachandran Oct 2018
Alien cousin beams,
I just watch; can’t catch her wish;
Black hole, as a whole!
Simra Sadaf May 2018
a young crescent moon
of silver velvet wanes,
while the sun edges the horizon,
vibrant hues of sunrise awakens
the earth with a whisper,
i try to give words to the
beautiful first beam
that cracks the skyline.
S Smoothie Feb 2018
The midnight moonlight strained through the veils that hung either side of the old house's glass soul garners beset in lead white painted frames; trickling  onto heavily treaded, rich walnut boards. It was an inviting tease, but seemed so far away than it did last midnight. The clock hadn't quite struck the hour, but sensing it was close began anticipating when...

A tiny draft nudged the curtains ever so lightly, elegantly. The darkness of the last days had taken their toll. Everything seemed to protest the efforts funneled into escaping the swallowing coverlet of the bed. But the moon beckoned and its call was a sadness  too  loud to ignore. A moment  of resolve had the tenses at readiness and just as the final vault was about to be taken,  the chimes heralded the hour.

Startled, the vague  sense that a third chime had resonated, releasing its self into the night and melding with the walls into silence. Senses finally consorted themselves into some less vague awareness.  The clock's official count had begun...4...5...6...7 ...8 - a beat as always on the ninth, a quiver 10... 11...12... a delicate fade for 12th's swan song . the hungry serpent slience, quickly swallowed the room once more.

It's hard not to think in the deafening silence. It seems to breed thoughts from mere dust particles, like those captured by the moonstreams  pouring  through and making rivulets between the textures of the worn grains of the heavy wooden boards.

Staring at the glowing, gently suspended swirling particles, lit and extinguished as they dipped in and out of the pale blue-grey filems. They seemed so happy elegantly dancing in the moonlight. Envy struck a renewed a determination to bathe in its entrancing soft light.

Desperate muscles fired and the old bed protested from such a vigerous rousing and flung its squatter into the abyss! Suddenly  falling to the floor helplessly in an unexpected motion. A frozen moment spent an eternity registering its self in the senses. A blink and acknowledgement. A second blink confirming the ridiculous state of affairs! Lying like a broken puppet waiting for some other source of mobility as the mental strings were tugged one by one working its way around asertaining possible movements that would not further confound the tangled mess of limbs.

Slowly a plan emerges. Gathering the strings drawing up limbs propped against the still protesting creaks of the old bed. A final heave and a somewhat vertical slant, gave way to vertigo. Wafting centrivically left to right anchored by arms clutching screaking posts. Pressed Darkness from obedient lids offered a slight repreive.

The  moon waited paitently, peaking under and over a bevy of clouds. Heartbeats counted down the long voyage to the land of respite. The beauty called hauntingly, telling of a wanting so powerful, so necessary,  that eyes and moon ached in symphony.

The  whole house seemed to want to urge on the meeting of moonbeams  and iris. The cool air coalesced around uncertain feet placing invisible wings upon ankles. One foot drawn slightly past the other slid on cool waxed boards.

Enforced  Blindness seemed to be fitting as hands reached out for the window seat. An endless push and desperatte fumbling finally succeed in finding the hard ledge and once heaved up by protesting muscles onto the fitted cushion with the throw wrestled awkwardly and finally drawn up and over, a deep breath took in the fragrant night air.

Sitting quietly for a moment, listening to the faint fllutters of the winds secrets. The moonlight gently pressing into the translucence of thin eye lids urged sweetly to be admired with a sincere promise of exceeding the glowing return. Slowly, unable to resist such gentle persuasion,  a readiness creeped through gathering momentum and eyes slowly flickered open absorbing the beauty. The warmth of relief welled up.  The moon, appreciated so, shined its best!  Having been so lost in quiet symbiotics, the ambience was suddenly pierced, as a solitary chime brought with it, the reminder that one is alone, like the moon in a sea of stars.

Some things are worth it.  Appreciation is a lost art left to those who are happy or dying.
MrsFootePoems Feb 2018
When she smiles
he looks at her
as if the sun itself
beams from her grin

                          Because it does
Reminder: I am the sun.
That just feels ******.
In the farthest corner of the western sky, golden rays glide down the horizon line and slip into the ground: hiding their splendor till the morrow shall bring their rebirth. The depths of the night seep into the heavens, dousing the expanse with stardust and blinking lights. Shadows lurk under every tree and creep their way into the atmosphere. But to the east, a new night is just beginning. At the base of the mountain range, a subtle candle glow starts to rise from behind the centinal stones and intensifies their monumental silhouettes. As Earth continues her drowsy journey around her axis, the Moon sidles out of his hiding spot and peeks above the horizon.
Somehow, he is different tonight. Rather than launching himself high into the expanse and bathing the terrain with silvery shafts; he stays along the boundary between ground and sky. His sunken frame is wrinkled and pock marked; with the shades of musty old parchment emanating from his surface. He is an ancient manuscript: the literature of a thousand poets and songwrites. Time itself is scribed into his pages and endless mysteries are buried within those yellowed folds. His weary bones tire of holding up the vast sky night after night, giving away his light and energy to all around him. So, just for tonight, he abandons his post, creeping down towards Earth to catch a glimpse of her ever-young radiant beauty and diversity. As he comes in toward her, growing larger to her sight, her textured surface looks close enough to touch. His raspy breath on her delicate skin. His heart aches to drink of her glistening waters and be renewed.
But as he leans in for a drink of her life: he is struck with a startling awareness. Corruption and deceit have manifested themselves within her miles. Pain and blood and cries ring out through the night; swallowing up what peace should have been there with the desperation of their pleas. Children and forests of creatures sink to their graves unseen as the mighty ones among them submit to the will of their greed. The Earth, with her intoxicating scent of ten thousand flowers and fruits and churning waterfalls of hair cascading down her mountainous shoulders, turns her savannah golden eyes toward her dear old friend. His affectionate gaze is filled with heartbreak as she pulls from her own dwindling stores of energy and ever so briefly gives him a frosty caress to lighten his load. The crisp air fills his lungs and the tingle of snowflakes lingers on his cheek as he brushes a tear from her sun kissed nose and climbs back to his place in the sky, once again shining silver and strong.
And if you look up into the sky tonight, you will see, there he remains; constantly making his journey round and round his love, sheltering her from the outside. Shedding his shafts of teary moonlight at the suffering she so patiently endures.
Zach Shappley Nov 2017
Light touches the edge of the sky
Which bursts forth to your lips
Lips that mustn't be tarnished or burned
Charred orange rays struggle to find figure
Overpowering them with a flash of a grin
Followed by a sweetly scented titter
A sonic melody that melts insides of all around
Matter drips up into the horizon
Embellishing the the beam further along
More vibrant
A dying star
Seeking a new lifeforce
Commensalistic relationship is needed
The light found her
Needs a lot of work, but here's a rough draft.
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