Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"skyblue" poems
Desert Rose, she grows in the light of the moon She glows like a ghost amid wandering ghouls Beautiful and rare, she loves the desert air and I love to see her bloom after the rain falls Be my Tree of Life Be my Peace of Mind She's my Healing Light At the end of every night Desert Rose, her eyes of crystal-clear skyblue I don't wanna be anywhere but here with you Against your ivory skin, and to caress your spun-gold hair The starlight in your smile burns right through my despair You're the only one who understands me And still there's sunshine in your eyes You're the only one with whom I can be Who I truly am inside Be my Tree of Life Be my Peace of Mind She's my Healing Light At the end of every night Oh, darling Be my Tree of Life Be my Peace of Mind She's my Healing Light At the end of every night
0
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
My Desert Rose
I miss Sunday in a skyblue sundress with sunlight shining through that gap between thighs so soft like cotton clouds.
0
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 10:19 AM UTC
Raining on my Sunday
un dia de estos encontraré tu caballo blanco sentado al cordón de la vereda sí, esperando que pase el sol de lluvia buena eterno sueño mimado del día siguiente a los pasos tristes de mi sombra celeste simple y solo una pena no tenerte a mi lado hoy y ayer y hasta mañana esperaré al cielo y a la estrella fugaz mas lejana antes que tus vidas pasadas golpeen mi puerta y nos reencontremos reencarnados en otro lugar del mundo y la tierra. --------------------------------------------------------------- simple and only some day of these i will find your white horse sitting at the sidewalk curb yes, waiting the good rain sun to pass by eternal spoiled daydream next to the sorrowful steps of my skyblue shadow simple and only it is a pity i dont have you by my side today and yesterday and until tomorrow i will wait to the sky and the farthest shooting star sooner than your past lives knock at my door and we will reincarnated rejoin somewhere else in the world and earth.
0
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
simple y solo
Is the biggest secret on earth. No air traffic underneath smog Controlled factory lined megaphonic Daylight saving stolen hour gasp, When turquoise mood, plays 2nd Pace To know her. Confidant pillows pressed for time talking Loud Aint gave her nothing.
0
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
the sound of skyblue
It all looked clean, crisp, picturesque postcard promise The river reflecting skyblue shimmers Mists rising wisps of secrets Trees and plants glossy, full bellied, nutritious happy The birds practising new song and twitching wings of fancy in the bright 440 volt sunshine Filtering through the senses to settle softly. All was really not that clean and crisp. The photographer could not zoom in On a dead kea choked on a 1080 trap Dropping from the sky like a manna treat Four fish gobbling pellets pulled upstream Mouth agape as poison shut the fluttering gills Two other magpies lost their raucous tone Deprived by early morning bait Possums slept softly high up in the tress With last nights buds bursting in their full bellies The photographer could not see beauty and ugliness Together. The lens could not question the crystalline view The click was not from gun digital film rolled irrespective And his dream of a pristine forest with no pustules told one side of the story. The other side Balanced the books And tore the heart of the very creatures That spoke beauty with being there. The picture was captioned; Clean and Green. Was it? A picture speaks a thousand words Sprinkled with three hundred lies and lives. Author Notes This poem accompanied a lush photograph of forest with a little stream flowing through. In the same area where the photograph was taken, helicopters bombed the forest with 1080 poison pellets to knock off the possums which were eating through the fresh shoots and leaves. The end result was more than the possums going to thy kingdom come. There are serious environmental undertones in this poem. http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid;=11260667 © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 18 days ago
0
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
Commonplace
It all looked clean, crisp, picturesque postcard promise The river reflecting skyblue shimmers Mists rising wisps of secrets Trees and plants glossy, full bellied, nutritious happy The birds practising new song and twitching wings of fancy in the bright 440 volt sunshine Filtering through the senses to settle softly. All was really not that clean and crisp. The photographer could not zoom in On a dead kea choked on a 1080 trap Dropping from the sky like a manna treat Four fish gobbling pellets pulled upstream Mouth agape as poison shut the fluttering gills Two other magpies lost their raucous tone Deprived by early morning bait Possums slept softly high up in the tress With last nights buds bursting in their full bellies The photographer could not see beauty and ugliness Together. The lens could not question the crystalline view The click was not from gun digital film rolled irrespective And his dream of a pristine forest with no pustules told one side of the story. The other side Balanced the books And tore the heart of the very creatures That spoke beauty with being there. The picture was captioned; Clean and Green. Was it? A picture speaks a thousand words Sprinkled with three hundred lies and lives. Author Notes This poem accompanied a lush photograph of forest with a little stream flowing through. In the same area where the photograph was taken, helicopters bombed the forest with 1080 poison pellets to knock off the possums which were eating through the fresh shoots and leaves. The end result was more than the possums going to thy kingdom come. There are serious environmental undertones in this poem. http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid;=11260667 © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 18 days ago
Continue reading...
40