#larky - Hello Poetry

We walked together, found In town centre, on the mark, We were a bullseye, joyous, Shy, striding opened streets, So proudly paved, just for us, To trip and now, here faraway, In white shops we sprung free, Tried on silly scarves and hats, Imagining rendezvous in London, Paris on the Seine, the long boot Of Italy, sleeping inside a railway Station on our way for Provence, Or Barcelona, even dare Istanbul, It was too fun, so brilliant to dream, In return those tickets got punched, Now we travel solo on lost avenues, Waking up is not as nice as it seems.

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Jun 19, 2016

Jun 19, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC

rainey-birthwright

Lost Together

We walked together, found In town centre, on the mark, We were a bullseye, joyous, Shy, striding opened streets, So proudly paved, just for us, To trip and now, here faraway, In white shops we sprung free, Tried on silly scarves and hats, Imagining rendezvous in London, Paris on the Seine, the long boot Of Italy, sleeping inside a railway Station on our way for Provence, Or Barcelona, even dare Istanbul, It was too fun, so brilliant to dream, In return those tickets got punched, Now we travel solo on lost avenues, Waking up is not as nice as it seems.

17

Beyond the seas, on a faraway isle, A maid is waiting, true without guile, Her faith, stands of stones and trees, A winsome heart as lone capercaillie, With a look she prays into the wind, Longing where true love only begins, Butterflies flutter with a heart racing, A diary is kept under ravens tracing, The elm and oaks are alms she stirs, Splints and potions are makes of her, How much time is passing of redress, To maid of the glens, all forgetfulness, She breaks and cries, pleads to a sun, Calling like an angel, into the heavens, New days come with a cold shudder, Lost days run in trains, out to another, She braces in corners for O solidarity, Wee birds singing with hopes in fealty. An wonders awake, dreams each morn, When will love ringing come into dawn?

0

Feb 28, 2016

Feb 28, 2016 at 1:53 AM UTC

rainey-birthwright

Maid Of The Glens

Beyond the seas, on a faraway isle, A maid is waiting, true without guile, Her faith, stands of stones and trees, A winsome heart as lone capercaillie, With a look she prays into the wind, Longing where true love only begins, Butterflies flutter with a heart racing, A diary is kept under ravens tracing, The elm and oaks are alms she stirs, Splints and potions are makes of her, How much time is passing of redress, To maid of the glens, all forgetfulness, She breaks and cries, pleads to a sun, Calling like an angel, into the heavens, New days come with a cold shudder, Lost days run in trains, out to another, She braces in corners for O solidarity, Wee birds singing with hopes in fealty. An wonders awake, dreams each morn, When will love ringing come into dawn?

20

We walked together, found In town centre, on the mark, We were a bullseye, joyous, Shy, striding opened streets, So proudly paved, just for us, To trip and now, here faraway, In white shops we sprung free, Tried on silly scarves and hats, Imagining rendezvous in London, Paris on the Seine, the long boot Of Italy, sleeping inside a railway Station on our way for Provence, Or Barcelona, even dare Istanbul, It was too fun, so brilliant to dream, In return those tickets got punched, Now we travel solo on lost avenues, Waking up is not as nice as it seems.

0

Jun 24, 2015

Jun 24, 2015 at 2:11 AM UTC

rainey-birthwright

Lost Together

We walked together, found In town centre, on the mark, We were a bullseye, joyous, Shy, striding opened streets, So proudly paved, just for us, To trip and now, here faraway, In white shops we sprung free, Tried on silly scarves and hats, Imagining rendezvous in London, Paris on the Seine, the long boot Of Italy, sleeping inside a railway Station on our way for Provence, Or Barcelona, even dare Istanbul, It was too fun, so brilliant to dream, In return those tickets got punched, Now we travel solo on lost avenues, Waking up is not as nice as it seems.

17

Sometimes winter is warm, Jumpers and coats bundle. The whitewashed cottages, Smoke in a blanket of sleet, You could say most anytime, Island weather is ghastly fine, Windy rain comes and goes, Summer can be awfully cold.

0

May 14, 2015

May 14, 2015 at 2:45 AM UTC

rainey-birthwright

Skye Seasons

Sometimes winter is warm, Jumpers and coats bundle. The whitewashed cottages, Smoke in a blanket of sleet, You could say most anytime, Island weather is ghastly fine, Windy rain comes and goes, Summer can be awfully cold.

8