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Alan S Bailey Feb 2015
The golden sunlight shone
Bright over the hill
As the wind fills the
Sky with flower petals.
A single drop of dew
Falls onto a dandelion
Growing in a field
And settles.
I gaze deeply
Into your eyes then we kiss
Slowly, our hearts
Beating fast.
I take your hand
Walking onward in the
Grassy field as we go on
Forever, and we never look back.
Meg Howell Jan 2015
Up on a hill
Still in sight
Autumn browns and golds change with the night
But you stay the same
Snow falling down across your top
Each crystal like a stunning dagger
in the wind
And there you are, all the same
Though seasons change and colors fade, you never do
White house up on a hill, how I love you still
Stephen Purcell Jan 2015
Stunning vistas of sapphire blue are broken only by the thin line of the horizon.
Mountainous clouds settle over ones vision and create a contrasting feeling:
The freedom of the air is replaced by the strength and solitude of being alone in the sky.
Randi G Dec 2014
Blueberry bushes touch in the dark
And their branches sway in the slight
And ever so brisk breeze.
The color of 1 am paints the ground
And stars speckle the sky,
Unlit by the lights of the others.
A home is created on the hill
Where a couple lies contemplating
The steps of their new future
Built by calloused hands and dirtied nails.
The soil falls away, leaving a space
Where they float together
Alone with themselves,
No longer running from the clock.

*(r.e.)
allen currant Oct 2014
at night there is
a solitary street
lamp hanging
on top of a near
far hill

it sits above the
rest among
trees it must
illuminate
a hidden street

i'd like to go
to that street
and just feel
the earth feel
the world
that has grown
on that hill

and i will look
to where i saw
this light i am
now under

i wont be able
to see where
i was
What gave you your direction?
What made you want to write?
What ever was the reason
that saw you editing all night?

Perhaps you loved Lord Byron
or for you was Poe the man
or maybe Keats or Dr. Seuss,
with his green eggs and ham.

What had you writing poetry?
Who did you want to be?
The answer to that question
is an easy one for me.

You'll probably howl
when you hear of my choice.
He's hardly a Jane Austin
or Helen Steiner Rice.

And it wasn't Charlotte Bronte
who gave to me the thrill.
But a little fat comedien
with the name of Benny Hill.

As a youngster I remember
his rather raunchy rhymes
that some would look at with contempt
but they did that in those times.

I just remember that he creased me up
and I would laugh and laugh all day.
I would memorise and tell to friends
when we all went out to play.

As the years went on and I read the greats
everything grew in my mind.
I read and read my poetry
anything that I could find.

But of all the brilliant scholars
that have written and do still.
None will grace my heart and make me feel
like that poet Benny Hill.
29 August 2014
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