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I stand here between the hills...
And they welcome if waiting for me
I walk down the shady paths
Where every turn has a secret
The dogs bark and street lamps fluctuate.
The crescent moon shines like a diamond...
And the countless stars are like gems in my mother's necklace.
There is a mystery in this place...
And I am in love with it's darkness.
I dance with my darkness as I walk through the hills.
Steve Page Sep 20
I lift my pen from the page
and smell the coming rain
I hear the rising wind
and sense the gathering pain

and as the scouting drizzle coats my face
I smile, because I have my compass
I have a North Star and the maps I made
when I came this way before

I know I can navigate these hills
and I can form a new stanza
to take me through to the meadows
that wait for me there
I navigate by poetry
Safana Sep 6
For you
to see me,
hills and valleys
oceans and seas
moon and stars
days and nights
water and fire
heaven and earth
must fall asleep
for you to see me
take a tour and pass
through, the narrow
of needle space
for you
to see me,
close your
eyes and sleep
to dream about

Safana & Bamalli 2020
for everyone to see someone
toward western hills
the last vestiges of light
sink as day draws down
Swinging in the breeze all day,
the sun is shining high,
warm glow upon my face.
Watching as the clouds pass by,
the sky an ocean blue,
a tranquil happy place.

The meadow sweeps out to beyond,
the flowers vibrant rich,
the hills are gentle green.
The birds sing merry songs of joy,
thier tune a cheery sound,
a picture so serene.

The children laugh and play bellow,
they run and jump and dance,
such energetic grace.
They monkey up onto my tree,
I smile as they climb high,
they squint and see my face.

They suddenly begin to scream,
fleeing in abject fear,
from my skeletal smile.
It's lonely swinging here alone,
nobody knows I'm here,  
I wish they'd stayed a while

The people come to cut me down,
my rope is old and frail,
thier blade is sharp and new.
I think I'll stay here anyway,
my spirit is my own.
I rather like the view.
atop the east hills
an outer edge of sun rays
were seen early this morn
Demi May 22
I pull up, golden hour drips through,
glazes your ornaments. Bittersweet.
The white rabbit clock,
five minutes too fast.

I trace my fingers over the curves
of your sofa, green velvet hills
like last summer at the castle in Dover,
when we realised it might be over.

I look at your art for the last time,
shapes and maths, strong and clear.
My abstract dreamscape is
Decaying in a landfill
Marina May 17
Your calmness thrills,
Your quitness provokes,
Like you are breaking the hills,
And inspiring the whole folks.
Strong and honest is your emotion,
Cause you are deep as ocean.

Your beautiful soul has no end,
All around the world it's sent.
The world wants your presence,
To be here now in present.
Strong and honest is your emotion,
Cause you are deep as ocean.

Oh mountains, look at this mistery,
Woods, come closer and listen.
There is a lovely human being,
Who wants love to be given.
Giant restless is your leap,
Cause you are the ocean deep.

People are your sweet little chest,
Where you wanna explore their best;
Where you look deep inside to the end,
You're happily surprised what's in there.
A soul is what you really want to see,
Full of colored precious to reveal.
Bhill Apr 24
where is the end
everyone has their own
everything is included
flowing waters will find their end and last droplet
winged beasts will land one last time
clouds in the heavens will rain no more
where is the end
fish in all waters will complete their last swim
insects crawling and buzzing about will settle in at last
wheat, corn, and all plants can't take the lack of liquid
mountain peaks, rolling hills, great vast plains hear nothing
where is the end
is there an end
waters may never find that last drop
beasts of the air may never land
rain will always be
fish swimming in the waters will be there
all plants will drink in the moisture of the land
mountain peaks, rolling hills, great vast plains will be listening
we can stop the end
we ALL can stop the end...

Brian Hill - 2020 # 115
Can we control it?
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