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Unpolished Ink Jul 2020
Ripples on a pond
Spread out like a whispered word
Silent in the depths
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2020
Waters loves swan's dance
Fish fly as nature commands
Hear summer's sweet laugh
Based on a lucid dream while im sick in bed, haha
Once I recover Ill be back more free verses hopefully!
Much love,
Lyn
Yoh Esters Jun 2020
People fail to see that darkness can be reflected too. Because in those dark times we begin to realize who we truly are inside.
  The shallow waters in a dark pond still give off a reflection. Just the ones we tend to avoid at night.
Elena May 2020
As pebbles are thrown
into the lonesome pond
laughter splashes out
And smiles run and glide
with ripples of liveliness.
Naveen Kumar May 2020
There was a tadpole
who lived in a tight pool.
He waited to be a frog
before fainting the winter fog.
To hop in hard land of dry sand
where huge trees stand.

What happened when he hop?
For his unluck, against his hope.
He fell under a giant boot,
instead of on a tree root.
I tried a funny and silly poem for the first time. Please let me know how it is in comments below.
The Foodie One Apr 2020
I am lost
in the breeze
of endless evenings -

Your laugh,
the playful gurgle
of singing ponds.
© 01/05/20

~ chill out evenings ~
Isabella Mar 2020
The sky was an ocean, clouds of foam washing against the mountains.
The sun was a golden drop of honey, casting light upon the emerald grass.
A pond lay still in the field of green, motionless and peaceful.
Calm was the water, and silent was the breeze.

One day when the sun was barely peeking over the mountains and the field was full of an early mist, the wind carried a single drop of water to the center of the emerald meadow.
The droplet fell into the grass and sunk deep into the earth.
For days of sun and nights of moonlight, the water and soil bonded to create roots.
The roots grew stronger by each morning, until one day a bit of a stem rose from the ground.
Hidden by the tall grass, it was still unseen.
The sun nor the moon could see what was slowly growing just before their gaze.
While the sky changed colors countlessly and the mountains woke again and again, something was slowly rising from the grass.

Soon it grew taller than the emerald field, and indeed the sun and moon did see it.
They awed over the astonishing beauty of the small flower.
A body of green and a head of white, the flower stood proud in the center of the meadow.

As the sun was retiring and the moon was beginning to cast its eerie light, the clouds grew violent and a storm arose.
The sky was dark and rain fell.
The grass swayed in the crying wind but the flower did not wilt.
It held still, its roots in fact digging deeper into the earth.

The next dawn was quiet and dreary.
The sun was dimmer, the grass was duller, the pond was still resting, and even the mountains looked asleep.
The white flower was seemingly untouched and even more bright than it was prior the storm, morning dew resting on its delicate petals.

Later the same day, a soft wind came.
Though it was a small gust, it unexpectedly swept right under the flower and pulled it from the ground.
It was carried with the breeze and dropped gracefully into the pond.
It drifted down the river, floating peacefully in the blue water.
Then a current pulled it down, and the flower swirled down to the bottom of the pond, never to be seen by the sun or the moon again.


Many sunrises later, a drop of water was carried by the wind to the center of the field.
When it fell to the earth, it sunk into the soil and felt the familiar roots of a flower.
The water built upon the roots and eventually, in the field stood a single flower.
I stumbled upon a story I wrote in 2018...
moon man Jan 2020
As the fox watches in the bushes, He notices two frogs minding their existence.
The fox stares at the water dwellers with ill intent in his heart, but as the fox waits for a time to strike. He soon comes to realize that he would intrude upon a scene he was not meant to see. As the fox retreats from the pond, much to the dismay of his empty stomach, he finds that his companion brought something for both of them.
This poem was suggested to me by a frog lover, I'm sorry if it's not up to what you expected
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