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It poured a heavenly rain today
The roads washed anew
Little streams danced and slid down the alleys to the music rains play

The Gulmohar petals in orange red hues
Lay strewn on the pavement grey
Perched atop the green leaves
Glorious they looked in the warm sun rays

A walk in the evening mellowed rains
The tiny raindrops fell gently upon my face And raincoat peach
Luminous  under the street lamps
Silvery Rain-beams dance
21st June - Rains
Marigolds Fever Nov 2018
Silvery light
Channel a white night
Clear and bright
Crystal ornamental maples
Cranberry leaves
Fall from eaves
Seasonal staples
Pile in gardens
Ground hardens
Below pumpkins
Left in their patch
Tree lights attach
On newly thin branch
Sculptures of ice begin
Beneath each frozen chin
Starry eyes
Blink in dark skies
Hot chocolate creams
Fires pop
Near frozen streams
Ice sculptures silvery light show
By steeple glow
Bells chime
Soft trills
Whiffs of cinnamon bread
In each head
Radiant illuminations
Glare with each stare
Pathway gleams
In silvery light dreams
MARIGOLD’S FEVER 2018
A crown of oak leaves
Lopsided, adores her
Earnestness in her eyes
Sparkly, binds me
Torch of her wand
Weeds my conscience
I linger, knuckle
As she evaporates
With a fierce chuckle..
There is something magnetic about her..
Ceyhun Mahi May 2017
White gauzy smoke is blown through the lily,
Floating on air,
Fondling leaves and dewdrops who're glittery,
A view so rare.

On a picture elegance is enjoyed,
A Polaroid,
Presented in a silver-gallery,
Who's gloomy ne'er.

With gauzy threads from a silky cocoon,
White as the moon,
Lily-hands craft blooming embroidery,
With flowers there.

Like gossamers this elegance's tender,
Lit and slender,
Shining at the afternoon silvery,
Which does not flare.

O Mâhî, this form is a web of rhymes,
Who slowly chimes,
With threads we're finally stitching poetry,
Crafted with care.
A 'Mustezat', a modified version of the Gazel or Ghazal adding two shorter lines to the couplets.
Tom Spencer Aug 2018
dry creek bed
a silvery flow
slips between
sun baked stones -
canyon wren song

Tom Spencer © 2018
Sam Hawkins Oct 2013
On the low-flung periphery of the salt marsh bay,
near the twisted beach, an eddy--

Sun low with the tide going up
where softly and under I lay.

For a pillow I was given
a yellow shell.

My ears were listening.

In its restlessness and reaching,
my tongue and its languages
felt lashed and closed.

I shall not leave
my waterworld.

But I must go,
ashore.

Hermit crab
raised itself up.

One silvery minnow played
across my open eyes.

Then, a cloud-blue sky
answered me
with a white seabird,
overhead circling.

So strange and beautiful,
this land of my dream I see--
in my amphibian way.
ryn Oct 2014
Paints of dark twilight hues,
Slathered across in blunt strokes.
Blend with deft hands,
Cajole gently with jabs and pokes.

Backdrop begging for a few others.
Longing to hold in infinite embrace.
Friends of earth and midnight sky.
Worthy of a doe-eyed lovers' gaze.

Cascading moonbeam...
Drenching all in silvery white.
Restless twinkling stars...
Singing their mismatched might.

Silhouetted landscape as horizon,
Darkened oils of plateaued ridges.
Finest brush could only manage,
To close the gap, I build bridges.

Nearing completion, this stint on canvas.
Nuances of dawn for what I've begun,
Usher the arrival of a brand new day.
All I need now is a few drops of sun.
Inspired by you...
PC classic Mar 2017
Love arrives red
then turns grey
black and blue.

A handwriting misconstrued

A torment astride wireless wavelength

A young man dreaming of his future
in the 80's
and later, me growing up to become just like my father

"We are circled dates on yellowing calendars" said.......someone

"No we are pages of an old diary"
said another.......someone?

"Pages with the top right corner folded" said he or she correcting himself or herself.

Yes. We are that.



I am your soft hand on my face
You are my neuroses split 50-50
We were 18 and  we were talking on the phone at 11 pm on a
School night
planning to disappear
arm in arm into a silvery dream...........


and Sometimes
you get
all that you wanted

and then it's too much

and I don't know why



"how was your day?"
"did you ever get through college?"
"I have been busy since a while"
Owlman Jul 2015
The creature watched them come and go and marveled at their beautiful wings and their elegant movement in the breeze. " i'll get my wings one day and they would put shame on the rainbow, you just wait and watch!" before long the day came and he got his wings. Through agony he fought his way out of the shell. With help of the breeze he spread the wings and flew in sky. When he was passing by the river, in still water, he saw an image and moved closer to it. Saw a dreadful creature in the silvery water that had a thousand eyes and the ugliest wings that he had ever seen.The creature imitated his every movement and then he realized that it's his reflection. He was angry and hateful and just like water that reflected his image he decided to reflect that anger and hate. From that day on he hunts the other winged creatures that he adored for so long. he flies static on silvery waters to see the beast every now and then.  That's the story of the dragonfly.
Tom Spencer Jul 2015
Crumpled on a ***** door mat,
left by the cats -
the owl is just a loose bag
of feathers now - empty talons curled,
and one fierce eye turned
over its shoulder.

"What soft flesh enticed you to the ground?"

Lifting the mat, I remember
waking at night to the trilling call – a silvery vein
wrapped in the dark energy of hunger.

“All things die and too soon...” I say aloud,
my own eye sinking into that inky well. The
vacant perch leaning over my shoulder.

"What is to become of my flesh, my soul?"

"It's the waking that counts," I think, "and the meeting."
For a moment I wake again - grateful for the living.

Tom Spencer © 2017
with gratitude for Mary Oliver
Mohamed Nasir Jun 2018
Its silvery eyes full of blazing moon,
Its stare as cold as death in brilliant glow,
With sense sharply horned of familiar tune
Of scared preys hushly scurrying below.
With stealthy talons perched on silver bough,
Rotating head do help view all round;
Then by mysterious commands to strike now
A rat in mouth dangle without a sound.
This night is there to stalk and terminate;
Its mission to **** get the ruffians off.
As though allowed on terms to live to mate
Under rooftops, barns, it soldiered aloof.
You hear it hoot, hooting shadows at night,
O'er fields beyond the moon's silvery light.
Steve Sep 16
We used to worry we’d peak to soon
Peeking in the light of a silvery moon
We used to hide under the sprawling shawl
Of a  lingering smokescreen
Trying to stay ever seen
Trying to be evergreen
Trying to keep warm and out of the rain
If only we were peak 15 again
If only time was the same.
I want to wait, come and join me here until it becomes so
LATE
like a last moon of light in cloudy weather never burning bright
and disappears: never comes to its premier shield.  
Don’t be wandering
Wondering
Or in
Misbehaved shape. I want to be
LATE
till ...an event... destroys all fences
play the role of barriers between us.
Then
love bursts in spring reaction of a sudden blossom
and tears, non-stop
flowing on the land of juvenile since it is
LATE.  
we dance
On the spring rush of glancing love,
Gazing permanently
under the shadow of your silvery eyes,
where
No one has remained except you and us!
.
.
  To be a last singer, to be a last dancer…
in the scene of eternal love
wait...wait... to be
LATE!
Ghazal# Ebrahimzade#
Marla Jan 11
Mirror-like cracks
In my shattered psyche
Run down my mind
Like the silvery tendrils
Of a shrill rain
After my sanity's loss.
Dark Fjord Dec 2016
the song pawns silvery fish
whose fate was worse than death
I had no response
to keep still the sprig
  and digs to when it all began
to give thanks and sits on chairs plays chess.
what compels you
The leaves are a
rustling surf of trees
as we wait for the
fireflies to ignite.
I am electrocuted by
the muted rush to live.

In the mud gourd corner
tawny frogs are hungry
for their father beneath
these jasmine clouds whose
scent is on the ironwork.
Words embezzle each another.

The dark comes in
for landing right behind
us. The moon witnesses
our truce in a moment
of silence. We address
her charity with
silvery gestures.

Sara Fielder © June 2018
Monika Layke Dec 2018
She felt a small tug
Flashing silvery and blue
****** at the heartstrings
MadHatter66 Oct 2015
I live in winter where everything sleeps.
Time is as silent as the falling snow.
Cold wind sweeps through trees so bare- I have nowhere to go.
Resting 'til life green and new stirs from its sleep.
The earth awakens me.

I live in spring where things begin and the frost replaces the dew on the wild violets. Rain sprinkling down in silvery threads giving life to the earth.

I live in summer where the endless golden sun shines upon the earth.  The scent of honeysuckle floats on the breeze,
like the sweetest of all my dreams.

I live in autumn with its crisp cooling air.
The towering trees take on a golden glow as they light the way to the fruits the earth has grown.
A revised version of poem I have published elsewhere.
Dark Fjord Dec 2016
Happy, as our dreams inspired, never to grow older

moving apart, never to see, as being ‘any purer’,  
Your dolls ruby blue eyes
Traveled down in the oceans grenadine;

Below thy reels lifting
    as we pulled them legs off
between them knees new green
fell from a heart, the silvery spoon.
foreveryouth
Bardo Mar 2018
One Summer's night looking out the
   back window at the back garden
My! I couldn't get over it, how bright it
    was
You'd think the sun was still shining
The Big Moon casting its ghostly pallor
    over everything
Like an Enchantress's dark spell
The strange cold beauty of it, it held
    me enthralled
I could only stand there watching,
    silently in awe;
Suddenly, a peculiar thought came
    into my head
I smiled at its outrageous suggestion
Then grabbing my sunglasses and my
    old deck chair
I went out into the garden and sat right down there underneath the stars
Bathing in the silvery light of the
    moon's cold rays,
Well I tell you, all the night creatures
   going about their night business
They all did a double take "Hey, that's the funny human bloke, what's he
    doin' out this late",
Even the cat came over and rubbed her eyes," Wait a minute ", she said, " this isn't right, you're not supposed to
    come out at night ":
Sensing their curiosity and their
    general discomfiture
I lowered my shades and looking at them all gathered there in the shiny
    bright dark, I said
" Don't worry gang, don't be alarmed,
    no! don't be aghast
It's only.... well, it's only Great Art.

                         II

I don't know
But it seems
Wherever I go
Great Art is never far behind
In tow.
A bit of whimsy. Happy St Paddy's Day.
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