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Isaace Sep 2022
The lactose rises in the garden
Upon wrought and coiling mists,
Then collects the stems of morning light,
Old future's endless sift.
These mornings when the flood plains swell
Instil great peace of mind;
Tireless are the crossroads of
Transpiring, morning light.

Set down the blade, spread far the grain,
Inhale the rice-fed air,
Then rake the water's fervent edge,
Revealing waves of golden.
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2022
A drop of beauty spot
a black mole
or a cool shady sketch
on the golden brow
of a sunny day.
The evening is always
welcome at the end.

The night from off site
pops on her way
however pitch dark
weaving even more black
across that kohl-pollen
a sky full of stars
will keep an open eye!
Pr nandni Jul 2022
Sun melted to pink, but Sky is still BLUE...
Not everything turns GOLDEN before the end
Only the HORIZON is colourful,
Lemme see...
Yeah, and for a long time sky is gonna be blue
Sky will remain blue unless you pour colours to it
Amanda Kay Burke Jul 2022
The golden rule
"Do unto others as you wish others to do unto you "
It's easier instead to do exactly what others to you do
Treat people as good as you are not as bad as they are
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2022
Maybe some years gone by
raising the pyramid golden high.
The inbuilt deep sea of science and arts
in the making run in timeless time.
So why ponder spilling the beans
in one fine moment down the open sky?
Ellis Jul 2022
It’s difficult to look outside of my my-
-croscopic lens; it just feels like a job

to never have to consider who is
an actual person that should matter to

me. It’s an almost impossible trick,
that only me and most other adults

can forget how we felt growing into
a new body, how we forget ever knowing

We're just like everyone else who also thinks they
aren’t like everyone else because they didn’t have
someone to hold their heavy lovelorn child-hearts.
Bansi Adroja May 2022
It’s strange talking about work and the weather
as if we didn’t spend almost a decade
wrapped up in each other

Somewhere out on the water
talking about forever
as if it was just another Tuesday

You were always trying to teach me how to sail
but I never really listened
still I was in love with your voice
and the way you’d stop to kiss me
when I complained about the cold
till it didn’t matter anymore

Sometimes I wish we’d never come ashore
stayed out there where time didn’t matter
and nothing changed

We could have disappeared over the horizon
into the proverbial sunset
we would have stayed golden
LC Apr 2022
her heart soars straight over cloud nine
when she holds the number seven to her chest.
her fingers are adorned by five golden rings
and she trusts in the holy trinity.
she follows the partridge to the pear tree,
and her eyes bore into mine,
expecting me to follow her every step,
but I can only stand and watch.
Escapril Day 11! Prompt: an odd number of...
Here is how I incorporated the prompt into my poem. I hope you enjoy it!
annh Apr 2022
Marge retrogrades lazily towards the hills;
Her name, printed the width of her cab-over dinette
In crinkled cobalt cursive,
Totters eccentrically as her handbrake fails.


Oblivious to errant camper vans (and centripetal forces in general),
Barney speeds maniacally along a deserted city street;
Golden coated and joyously poochie,
His tongue flabbers as fast as his bicycle courier dad can pedal.


Mr Blue buys buckets at Bunnings
To match his cerulean suit and shinier-than-shiney satin shirt;
Periwinkle rhinestone shoes carry him unabashedly passed the second glances and sideways looks;
There goes the best dressed DIY-er in town…don’t ya know.

Oh, and that’s Antigua Street photography not Antigua street photography. :)

‘I only know how to approach a place by walking. For what does a street photographer do but walk and watch and wait and talk, and then watch and wait some more, trying to remain confident that the unexpected, the unknown, or the secret heart of the known awaits just around the corner?’
- Alex Webb
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