Autumn mornings filtered gentle daylight on sunbeams across cityways and warm-tinted sidewalks, upbeat lofi humming with the dove's sorrowful song, while weaving past the struggles days bring.
Hi everyone! I finally got down to creating that lit magazine :) The Instagram is @autumnmorn.mag It's still a work in progress, with an official website, logo, and application/submission forms in the process, but within a few months it should be up and running!
i sit alone in the night and listen to the world. the breeze that just barely caresses the bark of trees, making the leaves shiver. the quiet call of a sleepy dove echoes faintly, making the feral cat sneak a look up at the sky and catching a glimpse of the cloud-shrouded moon. i, the observer, also look to the moon watching the clouds glow with sliver light listening to the dove coo one last time
Birds live to be free, Don't catch them when they are in trees... They are not supposed to be in cages, And to be sold in wages; We can't see their tearful cries, Cause we force them to die; They want free air, In cages they live without their mother's care; The symbol of peace is dove, But we lock them in cages without any love...
In today's world not only birds are caged but also humans are caged in their own thoughts . This poem brings out their condition
the dove labored by his own beak; the last breathed breath
lungs are filled with the salt of the sea **** to the shackled, the non-free do you care, or is it a play to see what you can get breathe in what's left of the clean we polluted divinity diluted of air cleared, not yet
Silver ferns grow in a meadow of furiously bright flora, Cosmos, Freesia, Roses of red and white, Grow freely, Wild below the pristine marble pedestal sitting center the clearing, Within, A, Delicately wound cage calmly sits a equally small bird, Breathing in the sweetness of the meadow, Fluttering peacefully, Their talons rest atop the door, Of, Its Gilded Cage.
The First installment of my "The Dove" Collection. Constructive Feedback is always Appreciated and very much welcome.
Out by silver rocks And fjords of solid ice, to the golden moon's marrow, lay an extended hand, harrowed In draws of every breath, followed All in desperation, borrowed A forsaken dove, it cries To the golden moon, it flies.