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Alpha Aug 2021
Heaven got so plenty moods
At dawn she's like a sleepy maid
Just awoke, and rescheduled, still,
As she rise from her midnight bed
Dusk is her blushing face
As she sees all the love
Midday she shines bright
As she dances over the sky above
Full moon she sits up there
Her fair skin shining silver light
As she tries to fall asleep
In her gown of deep blue night
Rain can be thrice
In sadness, she sometimes weeps
In joy, she squirts water, playful laughing
Or she brings the water's salvation she keeps
When angry, her wrath masses in clouds
And cataclysms, that storm the land
Fog is a try to cover the world's darkness
As she cups it with a caring hand
Blood moon shows her scars and wounds
That had cut her deeper than any blade
Blizzards rage in her despair
When she cries out with words unsaid
In eclipse, she tries to hide her face
Shame letting her cheeks glow
For even she is not all perfect
Not always she can cover in innocent, white snow
Every girl has, sometimes,her terrible twos
And few enough are of such purity
Heaven is not perfect
But she's made of simple beauty
Ever wondered, what different weather and different daytimes mean? Heaven is perhaps the most beautiful being that is, out there...
"No rain, no flower" One does not need to be perfect. Or, in foreign words: " Chaos makes the muse."
Haley Lana Aug 2020
A full Moon on the horizon of a powder-blue sky

The gentle breeze of Dawn passes me by,

caressing my cheeks like a lost lover,

soft as the clouds which in the distance hover.

I turn around, my back to the Moon:

the melody of daybreak begins its silent tune.

The first gossamer threads of Dawn's embrace,

cobwebs of brightness, Light made of lace.

A lonely bird towards the Moon flies,

hoping in vain to stop its goodbyes;

and my romantic soul melancholically sighs,

attempting to imprint the image in my eyes.

As the sunrise ripens, a celestial fruit,

it robs the lunar ambience, grabbing its loot.

And it basks in the riches that it slowly steals,

in brilliant ombre shades, as the Moon - defeated - reels.

The night's companion quietly fades,

ethereal pallor on now greyish shades;

no more powder-blue, grey turns to white -

it's the bed of clouds, prepared for the nightlight.

You've done your job, illuminating the way,

to travellers and dreamers, lest they go astray;

Rest for a while, take a little break,

until Sun retreats - then you can awake'.

The Poets' Lamp, nocturnal glow,

you'll shine again, with stars in tow.
Cattatonicat Jun 2020
Daybreak was yesterday
Daybreak is tomorrow
Daybreak is today

Daybreak is here
Erian Rose May 2020
we held onto dreams
wider than the Milkyway
dancing under the pouring rain
wishing dandelion buds
into a one-way to center stage

we stayed up past daybreak
conquering our fears
shaping them to laughter
timeless to the melody of
Our wild hearts
moon man Jan 2020
I confess to you and only you, lady moon highest in the sky, to take my fears and insecurities and keep them with you throughout your path in the night sky. For when Daybreak comes, those fears I hold close to me will be protected from the burning light of the sun. For when Daybreak comes, the secrets I've shared with you will be shielded and safe under the dim light of your moonbeams. For when Daybreak comes, Nobody but you and I will know of the secrets I've kept with you.
I've been tapping into my selenophile side lately whenever I start writing poems of my own work. This is the result of almost two months of wanting to write about the moon
Daybreak on the River

Daybreak rippled sounds
And silver morning flow,
Cool the ire of the beaten night.
Such beautiful disturbance,
A surface shimmer gleam.
The river greets the end of the greylight
And passes by colour streaked,
Endless and resurgent,
Under the firmament aglow.

An eventual sun
That breaks the horizon,
With teasing rays.
The best of times,
The dawn of days.
And let the water breath
Kiss the sallow mists.
A final caress.
Vanquished to daylight.

Whispering willows talk,
Shadow borne on dappled waters,
Bank bowed swaying dance.
Weep willow, weep now,
For the day has begun.
Joy sapped, seeping
From trunk and branch.
Where the breeze wakes
To stir the nest dwellers.

Safe haven for birdsong
That is carried
Upon each gentling ripple.
A new day! they sing
And the river ripples its applause
In the first swish of fishtail
And dragonfly sorties.
Oh glorious dawn,
The day begins!
Written as the sun rose over the River Avon, UK, in complete stillness and peace.
Star BG May 2019
Open your heart to the mornings sun.
The dawn that holds unlimited possibilities.
It’s the gift that holds miracles,
inside breeze,
song of birds,
and the heartbeat of life.

Present your dreams to Saint Matin
The Sunup that wraps eyes in moments blanket.
It’s your thoughts that sow them into reality.
In yellow diamonds.
Pinks so luxurious,
and red-oranges a glowing.

Greet with gratitudes voice at first light  
The genesis that gleams with brilliance.
It’s the self being divinity in motion  
in the journey.
Awakening to spirit
and inside celebration of love.    

Just breath into the Canticle of morning
it is rhythm of love and harmony.
First poem of the day.
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