#naturalpoetry - Hello Poetry

Since the last strings of remaining autumn began to fade, a silver veil catching countless threads of the blissful moonlight still glistened, but ghosted by the northern lights that mimics the unwinding loneliness. Perhaps the weaver still lets the free falling snow dance in the unseen winter mist, before they collapse into the unpolished silk. But the weaver still waited, waited for someone's gaze, prayers unseen, yet wishes unearned. The mourning mountain rumbles and sleeps, letting itself be covered by the wishful veil, still desires for a pure sleep. And the weaver? Sighed and tried, embracing the first flickers of a remorseful sunlight, still bringing the lust for company till it's the next time to weave.

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Dec 8, 2025

Dec 8, 2025 at 7:13 AM UTC

fan

Lust of the weaver

Since the last strings of remaining autumn began to fade, a silver veil catching countless threads of the blissful moonlight still glistened, but ghosted by the northern lights that mimics the unwinding loneliness. Perhaps the weaver still lets the free falling snow dance in the unseen winter mist, before they collapse into the unpolished silk. But the weaver still waited, waited for someone's gaze, prayers unseen, yet wishes unearned. The mourning mountain rumbles and sleeps, letting itself be covered by the wishful veil, still desires for a pure sleep. And the weaver? Sighed and tried, embracing the first flickers of a remorseful sunlight, still bringing the lust for company till it's the next time to weave.

3

A gust of wind powered by definition rushes through the unguided trees and catches the dancing golden leaves. Leaves swiftly glide alongside the sheer will of the west winds, winds that rhyme with rhythm and winds that carry an invention written of gold. The wind continues its journey, rippling along the silk woven river. The river glistened in the ethereal dusk, flattened and smooth as a soft melody, gently catching the falling leaves in a lullaby veiled in apathy. Has it too fallen victim to the wishful last dews of the fresh lily bells by the shore? They too, fall asleep with a fresh coat of wishful blue. The winds stay silent, caught by the old spin weaver as the wood becomes a new. The threads where spun, bounded with fate, as it still reflected the last moonlight gloom. It still weeps alongside the orchids, just for a sight of the next spring All together, the leaves finally fall, just wrapped in a golden sorrow, sorrow that fell into an everlasting dream. Alongside the river, things began to slow, for the roses that will bloom, just for the next show.

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Dec 5, 2025

Dec 5, 2025 at 6:45 AM UTC

fan

Threads of autumn

A gust of wind powered by definition rushes through the unguided trees and catches the dancing golden leaves. Leaves swiftly glide alongside the sheer will of the west winds, winds that rhyme with rhythm and winds that carry an invention written of gold. The wind continues its journey, rippling along the silk woven river. The river glistened in the ethereal dusk, flattened and smooth as a soft melody, gently catching the falling leaves in a lullaby veiled in apathy. Has it too fallen victim to the wishful last dews of the fresh lily bells by the shore? They too, fall asleep with a fresh coat of wishful blue. The winds stay silent, caught by the old spin weaver as the wood becomes a new. The threads where spun, bounded with fate, as it still reflected the last moonlight gloom. It still weeps alongside the orchids, just for a sight of the next spring All together, the leaves finally fall, just wrapped in a golden sorrow, sorrow that fell into an everlasting dream. Alongside the river, things began to slow, for the roses that will bloom, just for the next show.

4

all the wind i see in colors little black and blue butterflies convening, willow trees sprawled out above the brook casting shadows underneath them i undress my mind to the rhythms of the earth and dancing off my skin goes all the light/the light/the light that skips your eyes

0

Jul 8, 2019

Jul 8, 2019 at 2:23 PM UTC

yoni-schulman

all the light

all the wind i see in colors little black and blue butterflies convening, willow trees sprawled out above the brook casting shadows underneath them i undress my mind to the rhythms of the earth and dancing off my skin goes all the light/the light/the light that skips your eyes

8