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Sharon Talbot Nov 2019
There is a bay on the Oregon coast,
Shaped like a scallop shell
And ringed by rounded stones.
And from the darkening sky
Droop billows of blue and gray
Hanging and lit like Chinese lanterns.
Humans in the damp Northwest
Appear to drip from the clouds
In rain-washed colors
Of blue and violet,
Whose tattered clothes
Are softened and soaked
From ragged wool into rich satin.
Still others bask on shores
Of pebbles rolled by the sea,
Bone white and cloud-gray.
Down and up, down again
The light rays vault,
Painting bipeds into the land.
There are no reflections
But rather water in the air,
Looking like rain
Even on cloudless days.
Their world is saturated
Like the scarlet gowns
Of Waterhouse’s Ariadne
And the ponds of Monet,
Green as the British Isles,
Blue as the Aegean
And white as the Pantheon ruins .
Much like an ancient tomb,
The majesty of mortal lives
Commemorated in stone
Is here splashed in the air
And in every forest or cliff.
Hushing people into silence,
So they conduct the most
Serious customs in whispers,
Knowing how voices echo along
Water droplets
And mountain shadows.
Ackerrman Aug 2019
In case you forget,
In all your darkest moments,
Warmth,
Sunshine dancing petulantly on the water.
I would like to share the majesty-
Windermere.

Endless lawns of forlorn, scraggly grass
Stretches and etches hills into life.
Formed from the hand of an artist,
Stroking the countenance
And beaming beauty into its many folds,

Little hovels of black, vert and emerald
Hide like mice and voles,
Shivering in the sanctity
And uncertain security
That the upside-down mounds afford.

The lane is a wash of blue,
Smiling delicately at a distance
Flowing as it waves,
Languid and gay,
Comfortable in it's age.

Island.
But one tree,
Standing helplessly,
Hopelessly, out of place.
Feeling content, in its lovely face.

Even the sky agrees,
For there is no quarrel
Between it and the translucent, ethereal colours
Flooding the canvas.
What is the work of man compared to God?

And how much more beautiful it is than anything I have seen
A poem I wrote in the lake district
Nolan Willett Jun 2019
The door has been opened, the curtains lifted
That which is unseen now I see
And though through my life I have drifted
In woeful ignorance of its majesty
It’s beauty unknown to me
My soul is now uplifted
Yvonne Nice Apr 2019
The lion
Her sleek coat, georejus and full
Her powerful paws, silently gliding across the earth
Her entrancing eyes, able to steal hearts and souls
Her blinding teeth, killing in an instant
And yet, all she has to do is lay
Lay in the sun, in your regal beauty
Lay in the sun, surveying your kingdom
Lay in the sun, and below your mighty roar
If i’m lucky, I may be fit to be your afternoon snack
I am not but a servant unworthy of your gaze that blesses my life.
Curtis Owens Sep 2018
Labored breath of the world
unceasing battery
shards of frigid breath piercing pale flesh
dark and pregnant clouds fill out the skies pallet

Gaian forces besieging our hallowed, hollowed, bastions of culture
persistent scraping of our walls
the pre-disposed prophecy of sand

life given over to the evergreen
every phoenix must burn
That is the way
There was a party
The ****, the lion, the sparrow, the hen, the deer, the bear and the elephant.
All gathered at the **** house to celebrate with his birthday .The **** asked them to sing a song.
The elephant says: you are the best
You don't make the worst
You wake the people early
To do their works fairly
You don't go away
You keep your eggs Till they become hens
The deer says: I am beautiful
My eyes are bagful
I see you more helpful
You wake the farmer early
To go to the farm and work happily
You are the best you are the lovely
The Sparrow says: we all wake early
Before the sun comes morning
And say to the living
As we say the day going
And the sun comes dawning
Salute the prince of waking
The fox says: I can mock every one
And you can't mocked easily
I go to see the best one
You are him fairly
I love you calling
Till the creature feeling the peace safely
The war is not her surly
The lion says: I am the king of the jungle
I govern the jungle with fair
No one can do unfair
He will be punished surly
You must greet the majesty
The prince of waking early
I wear you the crown of ordinary
All the crowds shout and say
We must celebrate
We must make a feast
We have to salute the prince
Dearest the hero of peace
You woke up only the beast on the earth
If you go east or west
You hair him saying cocococoo
celebrate with your friends s very good.
Charlie Dog Jul 2018
lift up your face
let your radiance
like the sun shine
fill up this space
with your sapience
(i) wish i could enshrine
unmartyred May 2018
If eyes are the doors of the soul
Your body must be the castle, the home
Your hair, shiny as the sun halts in the sky on daylight,
is the crown to own
Your feet, strong and firm, are the chariots
of which any battle to go,
Your hands, the softest hands I held,
but are swords through relentless work of life,
Yet you don’t use them to slaughter your foe in a stealthy night
But instead, to the pain that kills you inside
Your words are the moon that beams throughout your cells
Which are the dwellers of your kingdom
Your blood is the river of never ending stream
of the abundance of life
Your beauty is the throne, ornamented with gold tested by fire
Garnished with diamond, sturdiest, solid and fine
to protect the most fragile queen: thy heart divine
Your heart is enveloped with garden of flowers, Eden is the name
With hundreds of colors and types, but one thing is the same
It blooms every day.
This is for the girl I salute for such nobleness, such royalty in her heart. She stands in her decisions, proves it, and rules her life strongly and proudly. She is a queen, and a warrior at the same time.
as she's
an honor
caped in
gold and
he knows
such wonder
in profusion
where his
coat has
style of
notoriety with
a sharpness
in virtuosity
their class
and zeal
always found
them here
a rite of sports teams
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