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Man Mar 11
It's humbling to look
Up at the stars, the
Gorgeous night sky.
Humbling to think,
Someone revoling one of those stars
Is staring back at me.
If there's one thing to never grow out of, it's gazing up.
Hadrian Veska Feb 21
Rolling hills beneath a low grey sky
The rippling water in the back of my eyes
Stillness hallowed, forlorn and sweet
The black sacred ground beneath my feet

The earth is rich yet nothing here grows
The river has dried and no longer flows
The trees are bare of leaves but not fruit
An omen of something below the deep roots

Does anyone here but lost husks remain
If I stay will anything thus here be gained
Does the sun here rise or does it merely set
The twilight stretches on but cannot end yet
A journey from when to where
James Jarrett Feb 17
Glowing waves

of grey and white

iridescent clouds

wash softly

against the pale shores

of the night sky

They lap against

the shining moon

But it is a beauty

I can’t enjoy

My love, my love

is not at my side

The beauty is lost on me alone

I am lost as me alone.

She sleeps

As the night does beautiful things

She sleeps

While I wonder

What would I ever do

without her?

All the beautiful things of the world

are lost

on me alone

Tomorrow I think

We will watch the sunset

and the moon rise

Tomorrow, tomorrow
AE Feb 17
purple, yellow bruises
from playing outside
and picking up pebbles
to throw at tomorrow
and chase it away
the sky was never blue
as we never had enough strength
to look up past our little heads
engulfed in the wonders of chalk and road
when secrets were worth flower petals
and flew away with the wind
unlike the ones we hold today
with aching shoulders
and burning pains
from looking up and only up
and witnessing how fast
these colours change
terracotta, navy, to grey
as all these pebbles wash away
M H John Feb 16
Can you see me
From your bird eye view?
I stay up past three in the morning
Counting the rings of Saturn
While crying to the moon

I try to pray to you

But I get lost searching
In the veins of the sky
Where the colors fade from
Orange to gold to purple to blue
For the perfect star

That could possibly hold you
Piotr Balkus Feb 8
Every death is unexpected,
takes us always by surprise.
Darkness always falls so heavy
from the red Pompeian skies.
Never ready for her visit,
she will come to take your life.

Even if the holy fire
comes to wash your sins at night,
it will wake you up and frighten,
it will make you run for life.
Suddenly, without a warning,
all your dreams and hopes will die.

Young or old - it doesn't matter,
man or woman, noble, slave,
saints and sinners, bankers, poets
will end up in the same grave.
Our bones won't be discovered,
unless by an accident.

Everyone has the volcano,
sitting over their town.
One day it'll unleash inferno,
even when it's quiet now.
It will follow you, if happens
you decide to leave, move out.

Every death is unexpected,
takes us always by surprise.
Even if you say I'm ready,
you will run and try to hide.
But there will be no escape
from the red Pompeian sky.
Malia Jan 20
Bathed in the amber light
I watch these fields in slumber
Resting beneath scattered snow
As the music crescendos.

The mountains gleam in the distance
But every crevice and branch
Is coated in gold
Like a remnant of Midas’ touch.

Peace washes over me
A purifying, gentle force.
The sky’s tender blue
Kisses the horizon.
Ander Stone Jan 11
you brandish most beautiful eyes at me
as our paths cross
in the city.

a blue as pure as the winter sky
makes me think that
to see you cry
would plunge my heart into
a roaring blizzard.

yet I can imagine the light
of the sun
shimmer upon a single
tear.

I could bear the thought of
seeing you weep with joy,
as the first dew of
blissful spring runs down your
snow-pale face.

and in a second you pass me by.
and you are gone like
a snowflake in the wind.
I have witnessed a pair of azure eyes that made the winds shimmer this poem into existence.
Coleen Mzarriz Dec 2023
Soft saccharine kisses and the way you held my hand—the gleam of the sun were clenched by the wistful glamour of your lips; and I stare at you, my dawn in the midnight sky.
 
Your countless palaver I can hear, forever lost in the starry eyes of yours—a nest of novice thoughts—I smile at you, my rather gauche. You were a dreamy night, and I was an afternoon tea—flat-out boring and tasteless. But I am also a poet, and you were my muse.
 
I was a copper, and you were jet black with charming brown eyes—and so I thought, “He’s so pretty, I could cry. He’s so dreamy, I could call him mine.”
 
If only I could give you these angelic kisses and let you feel these unearthly lips, lulling you with reverie and the dizzying glow of mid-December. The moon looks over us, and all he can sense is my longing, longing, longing.
I wish I could give you anything you want, the life you prefer, even the dying stars and the bright moon.

I wish you kind and beautiful days, my dear friend. My orange cat.

Song inspired me to write this: Midnight Sky - Unique Salonga
Mrs Timetable Nov 2023
Looked up to your atmosphere
Saw a little girl with wings
Painting the sky with the
Clouds
Brushing them up
And letting them flow
Like she did
With her mommy's hair
No camera can capture what we are gifted to see with our eyes and imagination. What do you see in the clouds
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