#swaying
As the Stars
Twinkle high up above,
as the Sparkle
in your eyes
transcending as love,
I stare into your eyes
as we both begin to glance
our Hearts are racing,
this is true romance,
the world we are escaping,
Together we dance
to the music in our souls,
as the night sets in and
the Stardust gives
an illuminating glow,
the feeling of amore
as our hands entwine
of the the honest, surety
that you are truly mine,
These Feeling will stay
they will never cease ever,
So, as the galaxies above,
❤️❤️❤️ THIS LOVE IS FOREVER!!!! ❤️❤️❤️
B.R.
Date: 11/30/2025
Dec 10, 2025
Dec 10, 2025 at 6:02 PM UTC
Swaying in the wind,
Floating with the current
Songs of the breeze
So light and so fragile
Swaying in the wind,
Floating with the current
Songs of the breeze
Taking you to the past
Of your childhood memories
A time of no worries
A land of complete freedom
Swaying in the wind,
Floating with the current
Songs of the breeze
Having no worries
Simple things of happiness
Pure ecstasy and liberation
Swaing in the wind
Floating with the current
Songs of the breeze.
Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 12:09 PM UTC
I am a dandelion swaying back and forth
A windswept soldier, started a seed
Stretched towards sun, looking like a beautiful flower
Inside I know I will always be a ****
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC
Often I lie awake at night
just listening to the sea
uninterrupted in its chant
and in its undying task,
full of the whispers of Time
swaying back and forth inexorably
touching upon eternity,
surging against, then subsiding
rolling continuously onto the shore.
Often I lie awake
listening to this animal untamed
roaming free,
this ghost resting easy
under the shade of immortality.
II
The sound of the sea
it fills my dark, my staring room,
it haunts.....it caresses.....
like the phantom tides that roam
through ear shaped shells
onto forbidden beaches
in endless dreams
faraway.
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 1:54 AM UTC
Old rocking chairs sways
in the wind of
yesteryears.
Collecting fragile memories
viewed over silent
contemplations.
The world moves on
but memories
viewed sitting here
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 5:12 PM UTC
Paper rainbows were hanging
lucid on the breeze of my reflections.
But then my emotions collected
in pools of stagnant regression.
Negative echoes only hung now,
a noose of happier times swaying.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 7:24 AM UTC
I hear the rustling of the leaves colliding upon
the others like a bumper car ride but no one is driving.
Voicing in motions that they are moved silently.
I envision the swaying, like the crest of natures
wave coalescing like feathers in flight anchored
till the season ebbs there dance to a fall.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 3:38 PM UTC
Moving left to right,
Hips sway slowly,
Hair brushing one shoulder to the next,
Eyes closed and lips miming the words
She hears in her head.
We all wish those words were ours,
That our creativity made her move that way.
But they're not ours,
She's dancing to someone else's song
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 8:47 AM UTC
The time is exactly two forty-five,
And I’m out here alone
Below the February sky
Just trying to find a way to feel alive.
-
You know what that’s like?
I got my headphones on,
Dressed to un-impress,
Playing my current favorite song
With my hair all in a mess.
And you’re on my mind again,
Like an imaginary friend
That I just can’t seem to grasp.
Are you fiction, are you fact?
-
You’re everything that I lack.
And I’m in a place that I can’t describe,
Swaying to the music
At two forty-five.
The longer I’m alone,
The longer I’ll survive,
So I’ll dance the night away
Beneath this February sky.
And then the cops drive by
On this cool February night,
And you’re still not in sight -
All I can see is flashing lights.
And they stop and ask if everything’s alright,
Ask how many drinks I’ve had this night.
I just keep swaying and sigh
Because I’ll never get it right,
-
And all of this is just a waste of their time.
So I say,
“Sorry officer,
I’m not drunk,
I’m just psychotic.”
And they look into my eyes,
And much to their surprise,
I’m simply sober, and alive
Below the February sky.
Then I take their hands and pull them with me,
Although they can’t hear the song,
And they try to fight, but I don’t let them,
I just laugh and sing along.
The time is roughly three o’five,
And I’m being detained
Under the silver moonlight.
And the February sky watches on…
I guess you’ll never know quite what it’s like,
No, you’ll never know what this feels like.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 2:18 AM UTC
Ancient trees of majesty
why reach your arms in excellency?
Why skim the clouds and pierce the stars,
to stand so bold as warrior Mars?
Why be a thing of children's play,
and watch the scene where lovers lay?
Why touch the hearts of young and old?
Why change your leaves from green to gold?
Why dip your arms in pools below
and float your leaves as falling snow?
Why whistle tunes on winds of high
why whistle tunes as winds go by?
I waited from dawn to dusk you see
for these ancient trees soon whispered to me
We grasp the day
We grasp the night
We grasp the fowl on earnest flight
You give us breath which we repay
we mold your health in loving way
We climb these hills and mountaintops
and spread our green as greenery crops
We house these creatures in wooden shacks
and feel the cut of the woodmen's axe
We watch the peace and wars go by
and suffer pestilence without a cry
We dance and sway on winds of old
to tell our stories far untold..
This is a lyrical poem which can be accommodated by
Enya's "The memory of trees"
Author of poem is--RW Dennen of Hello Poetry
Thank you kindly
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 6:54 AM UTC
When two people, so different in taste, look at each other from across the dance floor, a secret sparks out of their eyes like electric rays of romantic notation. Words have yet to be exchanged, but the slow steps towards one another make time slow to an unearthly crawl. Those dancing are nothing more than hues of grey, for the two ash-stricken lovers cannot see more than those they are attracted to. Hearts pound to a rhythm that can no longer be found within the upbeats of the swaying samba. As she longs to be in his arms, he stops only inches in front, his breath caught in his throat. The increasing amount of love being released from just his simplistic gaze makes her want to run as far as she can. With him of course, though it is not a realistic approach to the turmoil surrounding their troublesome secret. A secret that increases as he gently slides his fingers against her cheek, resting the palm of his hand on the back of her neck. Feeling the contrasting temperatures of the cool evening and her racing heartbeat, her head begins to get foggy with the vision of love that is shortly about to engulf her every fiber. The kiss, so gentle and sweet, brings back the times of innocence that was not thwarted by the interruption of time and changed lives. If only they could run away…
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
Trees hold the deep earth together way below with crooked fingers of the underworld and catches foul above
Upward to the heavens on finger towers,
clapping on winds they shake their dander
And the makers of green bras on mountain tops
They are the landlords of ground,and air beasts, and
incumbent giants of the ages
They whisper being puppeteered by winds of old
They are the alchemists of oxygen
They are dangling playgrounds
They are the Autumn crunches beneath our feet
Trunk etchings by bards, trees reflecting
cultures' dissemination
We walk under penumbras that deny the scorch of summer
as cool water douses fire, so too, shade douses heat
Watching trees in my pleasant reverie I observe how they
help break the carpeted land, bringing about a certain diversity in moving tranquility and rustling of their songs
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 7:20 AM UTC
back and forth,
slowly,
gently,
but just enough so
I can escape
this world.
I have to look in
just the right spot,
but when I find it
I'm gone
to a lush forest with
only
trees and skies
around me.
No more houses
or cars
or streets
or televisions
or toys.
And
no
more
people.
Just me,
swaying
in my own
little world
from my backyard.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
running through
the meadow under
the scattered,
shining stars
on the dark sky,
and after a long run,
you'll start
dancing around,
swaying and spinning
with that wreath
on your head,
the one that
i love too much.
and you'll get tired,
and be out of breath,
you'll fall onto the ground
surrounded by
yellow grass and
wilted flowers,
the one that you love
too much.
and you'll stare
and stare into
the stars,
until your eyes start
to close and you'll
find yourself
falling into a peaceful
dream, filled
with flowers, stars
and me.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC