"asudden" poems
#*Nightbird perches high
beneath the shooting stars
that dapple the bouquet
of sleepless peace
... his soft downy breast
has lent breath
to the sweet April afterglow
heaving with song
The mystical feathered troubadour's
swooning echo
A melodic twilight serenade
conjures a moonstruck metamorphosis,
sprouting magical wings of flight;*
rousing *a lonely heart's esprit
to fly away unfettered
in constellations of song
How dare imaginings spilled from the big dipper
enchant such an enrapturing magic spell?
It's so far to fall from swinging on a star!
It's so far beyond nearing crescent moon
when you wish upon a star
Thereupon struck by a bewitching bolt of starlight;
Dropping asudden as a shooting-star!
Rolling like trailing thunder;
tucked and tumbling ―
somersaulting,
celestial rumbling
blossoming with an unearthly joy
A nascent winged heart splayed bare,
soars upon cresting wind waves;
dreaming of that shapeless
w h o o o o s h ―
gathering beneath
~ uplifting wings ~
Suddenly ― gliding freely,
winging gracefully
upon wafting star drift glitter;
lilting lightly upon the arising cadence
of nightingale's melodious fluted song
Nightingale sings sweet April perfume
beneath the star shed lamplight twinkle
... and it makes no difference if it's only a dream
if my heart had wings*
imagined by: Jesse Stillwater
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC
From the smoke where all are the same, come back.
Tread the time and war observation deck,
Scan the flat lens of summer off it.
Porcelain caps flinch asudden to flick the ash
And a washing wave, fading in its splash,
Rolls the skull of Oleg the Prophet.
Where ebbs are sipping a mix of bricks,
By the sunken town and ruptured bridge,
Pull the net of the briefly known.
It's the truth laid bare that makes us crease,
It is not a stone we shall squeeze but cheese,
But compress it to strength of stone.
Wind is carrying tire hiss from the dam.
Not by prompt of age we'll replay for them,
For all those who lost before us.
Throbs of catfish under the clouded stream;
Meet the cold light, meet the anxious dream,
Meet the end of the shielding forest.
A yacht in the spyglass is changing course.
Kitchen gas is twinkling at dormant shores,
Kind of early to us the older...
Sunset touches scatter the soft relief
Of the amber shine at a Baltic cliff
And the tan of a pine tree shoulder.
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 3:26 AM UTC