Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
The sky was so blue

Parched paper meadow
Of a deeply delicate twilight
The sky was

The tree

And it swayed
Sobbing clean whistle
So shyly did the tickled bristle
Tenderly bow welcome here
And the tree was

A wave so
Sea-glow clear and satin shadowed it was

The sea

Summoned sweetly its
Deep kaleidoscope in carbonated breath
As old as my soul and
These deep seas were the river running sky.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Fiona Runs Feb 2018
Dear Douglas so wise and kind
You know you blow my mind
With your black eyes and shining bright soul
You have helped me fill a very deep hole

With knowledge and wisdom that I have absorbed
No memory of words you've spoken can be recalled
But simply a knowing of what is right and wrong
My soul rejoices and sings your song

I’m grateful beyond words to know your voice
To feel its vibration, it was my choice
To open and welcome new ideas of old
And grow and develop myself into gold
SheOfNeverland Jun 2017
My gypsy heart longs for the road
my ears wait for the stories told
throughout the years, passed down the line
stories that have outlived time.
My wandering eyes yearn for the stars
let's pack our bag, live in the car
with a forest bedroom in the trees
pillows made from maple leaves.

My gypsy heart cries for the skies
begging them to come alive
to wash away our soiled souls and
let us live in times of old.
My bleeding ears search for the song
but every sound I hear is wrong
in vain I try to find the tune
as the sun rays burn away the moon.

My gypsy heart calls out your name
in hope that yours will do the same
two sorry souls joined into one
our journey, now, has just begun.
My waiting lips anticipate
the commencement of our woven fates
as we lie upon the forest floor
you leave me wanting so much more.
wes parham Apr 2015
Fallen angels and pixies and such,
Look into Earth’s skies,
Remembering much,
Of their life as it was,
Time and energy fields,
From the young star above us,
To the way the wind feels...

Could it ever compare
To the home that once was?
Oh, I say to you, “yes…”,
Yes, it can,
And it does.
this was a super fast bit written in response to a friend's poem.
It's more whimsical than I tend to write, but it flows and I will own the optimistic mania that it seems to hold.
Read here by the author, with a brief commentary:
https://soundcloud.com/warmphase/next-time-around

— The End —