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wordvango Sep 2016
Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul

Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue

Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night

You took your life, as lovers often do
But I could've told you Vincent
This world was never meant for
One as beautiful as you

Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frame-less heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget

Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of ****** rose
Lie crushed and broken on the ****** snow

Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will

Written by Don Mclean • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group
For Sally
Starry starry bright
Shines down upon me tonight
Catch the moon in distance sight
With promise of a dream I can't obtain

Patched across the sky
Looking down to me below
Will the truth be ever known
In my soul broken once upon a time

Now I still believe
That the day will finally come
That I"ll be sharing life with no one else
For only you I still will carry on
Till the day I finally
Rest my heart
In yours that wouldn't
Ever ever part

Starry starry bright
Flaming wonder to my mind
Gently ponder on my plight
To ne"er dissapointment
In my life

Shadows over me
Guard the one I hold to be
My saviour come so tenderly
To carry me home with a gentle smile

Now I still believe
That the heavens will conceive
This prayer I hold within just me
The love I now bind with only thee

That in the end
That's yet unknown
This journey I travel on my own
For I will never ever ever doubt
That as your guidance still will shine
That one day it will rescue me
From sorrow binding in my sanity

Till I live life in love eternally

Starry starry bright
chris Jan 2016
O'starry starry night,
watch the children laugh and play,
reaching up to touch the sky,
up above the world so high

O'starry starry night,
listen to the crickets sing,
sitting out on May hills,
watch the children pick daffodils

O'starry starry night,
follow the light of fireflies,
feel the cool breeze pass by,
breathe in the fresh air.
inspired by starry starry night by don mclean

wrote this for english class in 8th grade.
bkmackenzie Jan 2011
from new to waxing
blinked a moon
Orion stood in might
of a heaven
belted
earth below - such a
starry, starry night

expression
words not fair to this
sight beheld of you
Vincent and your timelessness- beauty
golds and blue - and held
me in the spell of moon, and in the spell
of light - a vision of
one "as beautiful" - this
starry, starry night...
bkmackenzie copyrighted Jan 2011....you can also read at
http://signedbkm.blogspot.com
pgherna Sep 2014
A Brush with Starry Starry Night

It is a honeymoon of sorts
a romance
a chance to bare Witness
to the birth of a Memory
the beginning of a Reminisce
a Daydream,
the Time will come
to leave this
Starry Starry Night
with the Hope
to embrace
it again
Inspired by a visit to Vermont during Summer and Fall
Krysta Conklin Feb 2013
starry eyes
starry eyes
oh how i love those
****
starry
eyes
they shine
and they gleam
they make me want to
scream
they pierce through my skin
they caress every vein
those
****
starry
eyes
sparkling like champagne
your stare is electric
it cuts through my core
i can feel it in the air
there's nothing i don't adore
about those
****
starry
eyes
i can't look away
from those
****
starry
eyes.
Donall Dempsey Jun 2018
STARRY STARRY NIGHT

She switched off the moon.

Plucked out the stars.

A little dog barked
as her scream scrawled:

“This time life has gone...too far.”

She took an overdose of sleeping tablets
in her big bright red car.

The day withers
that was once in bloom.

Petals fall
in an empty room.

The moon wept.
The stars cried.

Life was for living... Life lied.
Emily Ryner Jan 2012
Under this starry sky,
Your bones fit me;
Meshing perfectly
Like a finely solved puzzle.

Under this starry sky,
Your eyes capture me;
I'm but a butterfly,
Gently fluttering in your net.

Under this starry sky,
Your hands are like shields;
Guarding my heart
Through your touch and embrace.

Under this starry sky,
Your lips are like a key;
Shall you unlock my secrets
With every beautiful kiss?

Under this starry sky,
Your chest is a stone;
Like elegant marble on a statue,
And perspiring by the sea.

Under this starry sky,
Your stone is my palace;
A place to rest my young head
and curl into you.
The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die.

It moves. They are all alive.
Even the moon bulges in its orange irons
to push children, like a god, from its eye.
The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die:

into that rushing beast of the night,
****** up by that great dragon, to split
from my life with no flag,
no belly,
no cry.
Shane Carmichael Feb 2012
And the clouds moved more like smoke in the wind
than actual clouds

They painted my wordless emotions across a starry night
only to tell my untold story

My eyes traced their subtle patterns across the sky
and I realized that they traveled longer than I

Each burst of stars further than the one before it
and far more familiar than the first

For in this starry night I saw your starry eyes
and I came to the conclusion I wouldn’t have noticed this without you

Thank you for making me see my starry night
and I will repay you with my nighttime soul of this starry wanderer
Donall Dempsey Jun 2019
STARRY STARRY NIGHT

She switched off the moon.

Plucked out the stars.

A little dog barked
as her scream scrawled:

“This time life has gone...too far.”

She took an overdose of sleeping tablets
in her big bright red car.

The day withers
that was once in bloom.

Petals fall
in an empty room.

The moon wept.
The stars cried.

Life was for living... Life lied.
Sa Sa Ra Nov 2012
Starry Starry high moon nearly half of waxing
trailing the son running the show in Great Barrington
Western Mass., the Berkshires always so dreamlike as if like on
account of such frostings; and we prepare details in so many ways
for so many days dark or light no difference this way this it's all him first
of there and last to leave likely then I'll be still again the usually there but otherwise
he'll cover my door and I'm my own creative spectator and scout when more involved I'm a holy rout';
also I am fully prepared for out a sleep under stars in the small town I love Smithsonian said as small ones be you may consider it numeral one to be; be it or not your cup of tea or time for such; I may seek the church by morn with to be and by the story with the song and story within Alice's Restaurant would seem soup kitchen on turkey day might be an ordinary thing to lend the love with arms hearts and hands if not Kripalu best yoga center about and food there be a walk in just a simple fee and best of company so kids are so well growing up and slowly I'm waking from my own harrowed cup; and I never stop loving with all hate or betray all betrayals or feel more need of forgiveness be I've done enough and so much more and in perfect abandonment and all betrayal all the more seven billion family be and this beautiful universe that rings and rings and rings sings singing all love all beauty be and all is willing and shares all that too; rocks and trees coming greater still, waters woods wilds calling routing for us all ever closer the Great of opportunity ever ripening within about to fall upon us all....
<3 <3 Pump Pump jump start it up!!!!
Alice’s Restaurant isn’t around anymore. But, as the song says, “Alice didn't live in a restaurant. She lived in the church nearby the restaurant…” And the old Trinity Church, where Alice once lived and where the saga began has become home to The Guthrie Center and The Guthrie Foundation.
https://guthriecenter.org/about/

Kripalu; Our Mission
To empower people and communities to realize their full potential through the trans-formative wisdom and practice of yoga.
http://www.kripalu.org/

Shalom Retreats™ were developed in 1969 as a process for exploring the trans-formative power of loving community. Shalom Sacred Mountain Retreat Center was founded as a hope structure, calling people to live passionately and with compassion in the world.
The Shalom process is based on the principles of intentional loving. We are a place of empowerment, investing each person to trust the process of his or her own life. We honor all spiritual paths.
We believe in life as journey. Each person must claim his or her own power to be and to act. We seek no disciples and encourage individuals to become dedicated disciples of their own life, to do the psychological and spiritual work necessary to live fully into the soul’s journey — the path that ultimately returns one to God.
http://shalommountain.com/wp/

The Principles and Skills of Loving
At Shalom we learn and practice the Principles and Skills of Loving that echo what the masters have taught us about love.

Principles of Loving

More than anything else, we want to love and be loved.
Love is a gift.
Love is not time bound.
Love is good will in action.
Love is a response to need.



Skills of Loving

Seeing:
I do not look over or through you, I see you in your uniqueness.
Hearing:
I listen to what you are saying.
Honoring of Feelings and Ideas:
I recognize your right to think and feel as you do.
Having Good Will:
I will you good and not evil.  I care about you.
Responding to Need:
If you let me know what your needs are, within the limits of my value system,
I will not run away.  I will be there for you.

http://shalommountain.com/wp/about-2/the-principles-and-skills-of-loving/
Christos Rigakos Oct 2012
The vapor trails across the starry sky,
they seem to span the universe but they
mislead my aching heart, my searching eye.

Like rainbow's end, if only there could I
locate that *** of gold, I'd surely spray
the vapor trails across the starry sky,

to find again the one for whom I cry,
yet always hopeful dreams in words I say
mislead my aching heart, my searching eye.

Without a *** of gold, or any prize,
the floating road may yet still lead the way.
Oh, vapor trails across the starry sky,

if I could follow, would you be close by
to my brother? My mind, now gone astray,
misleads my aching heart, my searching eye.

Now as I stare above, with blurring eyes,
night winds have blown the vapor trails away.
The vapor trails across the starry sky,
mislead my aching heart, my searching eye.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos
Villanelle
Pyrrha Jul 2018
I find it strange that when I look into your eyes I'm not met with an endless starry sky. The world around me doesn't freeze or turn monochrome around everyone but you. I don't see an endless sea or visions of a setting sun, no matter my determination. So how do I know it is love if it isn't as the words I've heard all my life describe?

Yet my heart still drops when you walk into the room, even when your focus is a place far off. People say it's like a flutter but this is far too heavy to use such a light word to describe such a feeling. It's painful, but I know it isn't something ominous or bad because it feels right. How do I know it is love if none if my words describe it right as they should?

I get it every time our eyes meet or you tilt your head and smile with your head in the clouds. I get it when you laugh to yourself or say something hardly above a whisper. When you focus so hard you ***** up and let out that silly sigh of aggravation and I feel such deep affection. Yet is it alright for me to say what I feel is love when I can't even tell myself what love is?

I don't think your eyes need starry skies or my stomach needs a million butterflies. Your smile doesn't need to illuminate the room and my thoughts for you don't need an anchor. Your love shouldn't have an expectation and my words don't need to have a proper diction.

Perhaps I'll see it in your heart or feel it in your touch one day if you feel the same regardless of what the world has sold me with their modern day poetry. I promise you that no matter how hopeless I become I will find out for myself  what it means to love you wholly, even if I have to find out from loving at a distance.
I don't understand why I write so many poems about love when I am not even in love. It is so frustrating to have words without a muse and a muse without words.
Leonardo J Mar 2018
"Starry
Starry night
Paint your palette blue and grey
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the
Darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land.
And now I understand what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen
They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now.
Starry
Starry night
Flaming flo'rs that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze reflect in
Vincent's eyes of China blue.
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's
Loving hand.
And now I understand what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight on that starry
Starry night.
You took your life
As lovers often do;
But I could have told you
Vincent
This world was never
Meant for one
As beautiful as you.
Starry
Starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes
That watch the world and can't forget.
Like the stranger that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of ****** rose
Lie crushed and broken
On the ****** snow.
And now I think I know what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen
They're not
List'ning still
Perhaps they never will."

a song by Don Mclean, 1971
This song makes me think you.
chloe lee Jun 2016
Starry starry night
Colours blend
Sky ablaze
Stars alight in the sky
Clouds swirling like mist in the sky
The tree of death
Towering towards the sky
The village of red surrounds the tree
Here I am locked up here
Wondering if I'm going to get out
Or am I just going to paint my mind
Til I die
This is a poem based of Vincent van Gough and his painting starry starry night
You escaped
Through my fingers again
That answer which I
Have been clumsily chasing

With scabby scabby knees
Under starry starry nights
In quiet, lonely corners spent
Watching something indecipherable

A small answer
With such a resounding voice
Which I hope will soothe my brow
My nightmares it will quieten

An answer which I've been restlessly searching for
In the blood on my wrists
The scars that appear on my body-
Intentionally and otherwise

Digging open my heart and sometimes others
I rip them apart, stride (run) through recklessly
But when I leave, I don't leave a single mark

Sadness, weariness, desolation, isolation
All belongings of the poet
I will say hello to whichever one
I haven't greeted yet

Just so I can define and finally see
In all my sanity and insanity
That elusive, elusive answer

Born in starry starry skies
Starry starry cosmos
Descending beautiful

Maybe you might give me a kiss
In all your infinite knowing  
Something too beautiful for this world
At the moment when Oblivion opens
Its arms to me
Comments?

I have used some vague references to Vincent by Don McLean as well. :)
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
I
A flower that smells of pure bliss keeps an ear to the ground
It's a serene one sitting beneath the stars down on earth
The moon, far, far, seven seas away, loves to drop into her lap.

The Bay of Bengal billows, music has gotten beneath the skin.
The leaves furl out off the deep wood with the birds
singing out to the top of the trees, rhyming with the leafy dance.
Heavensent, that was in one sanguine day in the spring.
The Mother’s Language Movement in 1952 sprouted like this
on the eighth of native Falgun month—oh magic did it unleash!

On that day our beloved brothers were shot dead
They could swallow the bullets with smiles but won’t give up
demanding the official status for the Bangla mother tongue.
Angels wrapped round the martyrs amid lamenting mothers
Laid them on Falgun’s perfumed ground bleeding corpses
Seas of roses bloomed and blew them out red, red kisses!

They are gone not the stone wall of consciousness they raised
Ah, at the sprout of the spring what were they echoing?
Ingrained deep in the soil the pre-designing voice in the planning?
Who can tell? The world gels on February 21 in celebrating!

The angels then snapped up our martyrs’ souls off the land,
placed them on a piece of Heaven where they can hear the jingle.
Down on earth, a nation springs up, has gotten its wake up call!
Stepping on the sweetening arc of the mother tongue melody
the stone turns a flower, all in a butterfly moment soaring to victory.
Thanks to the movement - Bangladesh itself later comes to be!

II
The sun comes down to the rose painting on the land
In the heavenly Falgun hues it nibbles some wild summer dreams.
“Serene songs of earth stirring the water,” like it comes into play,
rowing the cloud bubbles singing in southern breeze.
Ah, a walk on the sun-kissed kaleidoscope land is a pure bliss.  
Every blossom spray of the wind is soothing sweet
Hop on and play straight to the ruby heart, as if it's a flute.

Mother tongue means speak free, fearless, in full streaming.
Speak the heart to the world without the fear of losing the cloud
that will listen, bouncing back on the brink of the sky river.
Then what did one say, hear, or was awed by in the blooming Falgun?
Could it have been the spring humming in her native lingua
or King David singing in mother tongue by babbling brooks
what in any other language, even with a silver tongue, isn’t possible?

Allah has listened to our martyrs’ crying mothers and fathers
The martyrs’ souls whisk through the galaxies and starry fair.

Soar high over the clouds, take the rainbow's *** of gold away,
Like a hue turns 360-degree in the colourwheel bask into the colour.
Still, dip the toes in Bangla mother’s soil salted with perfumed art
Like Himalayan water swirling down melting deeper deep down
This magicland is polished for everyone be it you, a fairy, a star
or off the ploughed-out barrow a walked out wonder!

A pristine voice duo’s voiceprint gleans to the spring in muse,
Pops in a beauteous scurry and speaks in the mother tongue!
Hidden within the earthy depth, only emerges with time,
only dances in tangent, that day slipped out with the butterflies.
And finally the blue nymphs take the plunge drop down the sky  
That day the mother’s voice triumphed, whose is the most original!
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
lex Dec 2017
I used to think brown eyes were prosaic.
That was before I saw your mind shine through your eyes,
lighting the room with a glimmering mosaic -
amber light filled with passion, beauty beyond recognition.

I looked into your eyes expecting to find normalcy
and instead, I found myself embraced by your starry night soul,
my sense of self ceased to exist - it was just you and me in perfect harmony,
an entire universe blanketed in ebony.

It should have come as no surprise
that there is such beauty in simplicity,
but brown eyes are just brown eyes
until the person behind them is what you see.
Brendan Thomas Mar 2014
Starry,starry night
Snow reflects
Blue,white light
Starry,starry night
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
Can it love you like God loves you, with a love that is better than life?
Can it connect you to eternal beauty? Can it save you? Can it redeem you? 
Can it lift you out of the miry pit? Can it make you clean enough to finally feel acceptable?

Can it delight your soul to the core? Can it take your breath away with its faithfulness to you? Can it paint both sunrise and sunset across the sky to beckon your attention? Can it cause the breeze to blow and gently caress your cheeks? Can it send hummingbirds and wildflowers across your path to romance your heart? Can it parade before you the starry host and call them each by name?

Can it probe you to the depths and fill you with itself?
Can it rush to your aid riding on the wings of the wind?
Can it satisfy your hunger and thirst with bountiful things?
Can it give to you feet like a deer that you might dance upon the heights?
Can it arrange every detail of your life to draw you and drive you to itself?
Can it pursue you with all the resources of the universe?
Can it know you through and through and still desire you?

Can it raise you up and seat you in the heavenly realms and bless you with every spiritual blessing? Can it supply your every need out of its glorious riches? Can its grace be sufficient for you and its mercy help you in your greatest temptation? Can it pour overflowing comfort into you through all of your troubles? Can it reach down to draw you out of deep waters? Can it set you on an unshakable foundation? Can it bound across the mountains to come to your rescue? Can it make you lie down in green pastures and lead you beside still waters?
Can it walk with you through the darkest wilderness and never leave you or forsake you? Can it carry you when you are weak or have fallen? Can it let you rest between its shoulders when you are weary or burdened?

Can it escort you to heaven’s banqueting table
and spread its banner of love over you?
Can it hide you in the shelter of its wing?
Can it be your daily portion and immerse you in the boundlessness of itself?
Can it clothe you in robes of righteousness and garments of salvation? 
Can it give to you praise in exchange for mourning?
Can it bestow on you a crown of beauty for ashes?
Can it turn your wailing into dancing?
Can it flood you with peace like a river?
Can it fill your heart with joy in the worst of afflictions?
Can it know the way to lead you home?
Can it refine you in its fire and bring you forth as gold? 
Can it capture you fully even as it sets you fully free?

Can it ever truly be your Everything?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VeKgfUGtcI0
Brianna Aug 2014
I want to be your sunset eyes, those blue skies, you're perfect starry night.
I want to be the shore kissed by the sea, I want to have everything causally, I want you and me.
I want to be the waves when they dance alone, the midnight tone, I want to be your back bone.
I want to be your perfect scent, your missed rent, those days you feel you need to repent.
I want you to listen to these cheesy rhymes, feeding me these sweet lines, be together all the time.
I want to be your dark brown hair, the place back when we didn't care, the memories only we share.

I want you in all the ways I can say.
I'll want you forever and always each and every day.
Stars very rarely
Hang-out alone,

A perfect night sky
Lets this be known.

They come together
Forming a spectacular
Constellation,

Shining magnificently bright
In a festive celebration.

Subdued,
Gently glowing undertones
Of a perfect moon,

Allow each individual star's quality
To be extraordinarily exhumed.

A perfect,
Starry evening
Sadly comes to an end,

As dusk turns to dawn;
With it,
The sun it sends.

By Lady R.F.(C)2017
Cweeta Cwumble May 2016
I followed my dear friends to the edge of a cliff
and was greeted by a peculiar thing.
There, standing on the edge of the earth
was a swing set waiting just for me.
Her thick black seat and strong metal arms
cradled me while together we flew
into the starry night canvas, sprawling
dark blue, except for a splatter of twinkling
firefly-speckles, from the cityscape
to the moon.

Each time she lifted me I felt closer
to the heavens. I raised my chin
and let the gentle kiss of raindrops
wash away my sins, cleansing
and revitalizing my body like a baptism.
I’ll never forget the smell of the rain
on the freshly-sprouted grass, with dew drops
made from the breath of my friends
hanging delicately in the sweet air
like glass beads strung on a wire
while the crisp wind carried me higher and higher
and the most brilliant masterpiece ever created
was painted across the entire night sky.
Hannah Elizabeth Jul 2013
This is an apology letter,
to the boy with starry-eyes.
I hope you know I'll love you,
until each one of us dies.
I'm sorry for how I treated you,
I'm sorry about our past.
I'd go back and do it again,
I'd try to make us last.
But sadly I cannot,
you don't love me anymore.
So I close myself off now,
I lock myself behind my door.
I do not wish to be disturbed,
I just want to weep.
But it ends up me writing,
and getting little to no sleep.
So starry-eyed boy, tell me,
did I ever make you grin?
Was what we had ever special,
or did you toss our love in the bin?
Starry-eyed boy,
I want to kiss you like before.
I want you to need me like I need you,
I want you to want me more.
But alas that cannot happen,
you're in love with my friend.
So all in all, starry-eyed boy,
this is where we end.
Megan Hundley Nov 2011
you don't understand at all do you
not truly
you think
I'm a liar
that I still hold the knife
that
stabbed you in the back
[and in the heart]

kinda speechless
that you feel that way
think that way
believe it
untrustworthy? misleading?
false emotions?
can you not read?
here let me try again
maybe I can make it like braille
feel the words

it's like when the clouds stormy eyes
welled up and let fall the
tears of weekend rain
soggy, we laughed along with the thunder
and under our waterfall we let the windows
fog
tell me I lied then

or picture if you will
standing by the tree I
always parked by
it was a starry night, but we didn't see it
we were too focused on our faces
except
why is it I was the only one
drowning in the sadness that overtook my eyes
shaking with each strained, choppy breath
clutching that gray shirt like a life jacket
do you think that was all
for show?

haven't you looked at
my collection of black and white
silly letters scribbled down as fast as possible
trying as hard as I can
to leave it all
on the paper
but it's as if each word I write
is a tattoo
slowly invading every part of my skin
it's sinking in, it's staining everything
do you think this agony I speak of
is fake?

if so
if I am that liar with the knife who
led you astray and "******* you over"
let you down, kicked you around
if you can't seem to
open your eyes
and notice
just how much I love you
just how much I always have

then you don't deserve it

ill run miles for you when I know I only
have the strength for one
but don't you
dare
watch me run
if you don't even grasp
that I stabbed myself in the back
led myself astray

you have a right to
hate the wound
but if you can't see
what I feel
one day
I will learn
that I have to let go
and I will

then all these silly letters
all for you

well. go ahead and throw them away
on that day
they will carry no life
anymore
Words' Worth Aug 2019
Strange that I think of you when I peer into my typewriter, I'd love you to the end of time on the stretches of Brooklyn bridge, well I've remembered two years in her reaction where's the two hours now, faraway and cries on the Sun in false yet true splendor in Ontario suffering from prima-donna stage fright and sickness
Go into the gentle madness, shadows are rising on the silver lining, never knowing who showed them the point of life

You don't even exist in my mind, only when I drink beer behind my darkness, in what's and what's wild?
I ask for the meaning of the light, shines on us all with the same shine, tamed by the consciousness finding itself with a will to remember your mirrored faucet, the tumescent towers
And your body is mine, and so are the pulsating melons boughs filled with the heights of the soul
Spontaneous overflowing with poetry, have ye heard
Asked what does it mean, tatterdemalion women with Utah that can put wheat blankets on New York streets, hanging by the city lights
The limelight is the best fall under, under the material Sun
Go into the madness with a gaily gentle touch, feel like my soulless eyes that turn into tender footed steel

I can still remember those Amish legs, it's common knowledge
I'm in the river hell, comparatively too late to think of some compelling excuse to remember this, too distressed to say the rife brought out the Agamemnon wishing for the book in his loveless eyes
From his dead-end streets, often I'm marching on dawned said Sun


For some music from the speaking silent Zephyr poet handing you the cheap attractions, now diamonds straddling on the starry sky
Have you caught them yet in the pools of joy, and Marxist radio adulation

With its peace and understanding, feeding the hungry souls with foolish eyes, fear death by water
Dealing with slaves with hands that wave the ether
Murmurs, rushes, travel is life, and the road makes the honest difference if taken with a naked mind
Forgetting his drawings in his lunchbox, absent-mindedly abseiling in the speaker's of Parliamentarian cops

Looking for milder weather, when the time stops ticking alive
With conviction in his sails, ready to find his body within the conscious nation
Elysian isles dreamt up beautiful ceilings with smells ready for his father to flee from Troy, smelling the freedom

In the afterlife, concocting darling buds of May in the rarest happiness
We are in awe of your silence unseen
Thee heaven, in deathless glances in thine light, let's stretch out the strollin' midnight in a sheet of the smokestack darkness with the cusp of cutting lives amenable
Short and alone in the lonely places without souls of desolate traces in the days of darkness, not light or darkness, in the heart cannot grow fonder of the bliss, ignorant of the ramifications of woe and the strains of purple haze, Moroccan hashish on the locked heaven for wrathful souls staying in Rabat, waiting for the train to Tangiers
I'm on the shore with my drugs, with my friendly sidekick telling us not to do 'em

He looks the other way and says you have a soul that remembers the ashcans on madness, counting the times you lost your breath writing about a genius with a touch of madness that blesses us with hope

With a touch of dignity and common sense, they call me Mr. Common, drinking his juices up and passionate thoroughly intense
With the pusherman's gaze on Virgil's vigilante asylum in Spiritus Mundi, Looking for sadness realizing there were kind memories analyzing the studied smile often ignoring the crime of what was the bloodied-dimmed by the mascara, make-up
No razors allowed in the hairy meager, merger agreed that they shouldn't cut their dreadlocks with ****** eyes, and dimmed pace

You've mimicked life and found that you couldn't reject the sadness
Now, then and what?
Are we gonna change our faces for your confused state of mind that slow when we talk about Buddhism?
In Hell's Kitchens, what's going on in starry Heaven's dynamo nature, intermixed by the same idea of fairness, all that jealousy as is

Cannibal dynamo, adding to the interest of the Zen, really ******
Some people never go crazy, I wonder lives follow what kind of blue, so sheltered from the Watt's storm
Going into the gentle madness, the storm was left when we were reserved, resolved to set the desolating emptiness ploughing on the secret garden
If we recognize each other, I wonder kind lives do the secret lotuses of the squall of mud, on the run from the solid road

If we are kind to each other, are we friends first, recognizing our love in the latter, the pensive ones solitarily reaping
Nothingness in the new honor of chaotic houses on cheerful streets keeping the men happy with cats on train tracks leading us
Through the depths of kindness, where we find the invisible love forgiving us from the ****** in Narcissus, toiling in the invincible summer
With a dedication, immense and immeasurable as the lost souls in the free outsiders, keeping the outsider with us in good spirits, dreaming of Sisyphus happy, on the stormy
Watching on the watchtower for the island of the gentle darkness, shining the light towards your way back home, changing the weather for sailors

Nowadays, speeches keep us here with the difficult women before the speechless enter underworld lines, kissing them before we leave behind the journeys
We define ourselves, in questions we ask
To be behind, slightly away, maybe slightly to the right, ascending heaven with hats of invoking spirits in the dawn that meets the light of the home, likewise dark is completely tramped
You're writing like a rolling stone rocking the cradle, vamped on pumped highways around yesterday
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart, tied through the worn-out years torn by second-dimension souls
In a third-dimension soul, now in the afterlife

Just like the flowers you left her in some tomorrow around midnight
With weeds and broken stems, in a-getting napes of silken sunset kisses, scrummaging through back pages

Looking for milder weather, under the drapes winning it for the dazed closeted people

Should we order, should we dream of better minds losing themselves to the best of souls behind the Iron hand, curtain clasp
Saying I don't drug, some drugs with chains that turn with wide-eyed gyre opened the women, like a flat tire
A ***** went loose while traveling road under the stars
Gyroscope takes you home, recovering your rocking trains from the platform of D-day, hanging at the mirror or what holds behind
Some cheap things aren't that an expensive dream or you just want the remaining man in the shock of psychotherapy and hydrotherapy
Go into the gentle madness, flying on battery acid and ambition now

Consumerism of socialist wind, and obscene love, in the looks of noble regrets respecting every part of her closed eyes, with the platform train waiting for D-Day
Stealing looks from the bare cup, the cup has always been full of mercy
Suffused with the glances in the silhouetted distances drowning in summer's sadness, finding happiness in a warm gun

Ruminations on the contemplated clouds of highest mountains with a year, the seconds of the blind ash, and I'm selling eternal gazes in black Utah, being spent nonetheless worse for being away from Kansas or being here with the wild hanging over wayward tombs
Looking for self-portraits in white, gray areas shine brighter in the darkness like worthy saviors
Freed in thy name, going into the madness gently, waiting for the song
The song danced once, and there's no way
The dance sang like it were the skirmishes of our youthful daydream nation, ultrasonic cars on sonic and crooked pavements
The worthless machine is the worst, and the world I'm flying on, pools of despair and joy, holding myself in savage stillness
Whispering familiar sounds across the universe, summers lack all conviction, things fall apart
The passion intensity was once there, to be better to the best minds who have an option but sit and stare in the dead of winter
Go into the gentle madness of the midnight blue bloom, coldest distance with the tea for the warmest wordsmiths talking of the apparition of faces
We look into the life of things, through the ups and downs
Although, the saving gentle madness, stares in the long black cold

Looking for milder weather, in tempestuous strong men in declasse purgatory, churning out handlooms out never ran out on Normandy's blue beach wailed, but, the flowers in the grave grew in the impasse of gentle madness of the grave
That doesn't feel like the Eastern silence, hear the rolling thunderous noise, liberalism in the good night of ones in scorn
Contemporary critics resound in working-class galloping horse-rides, do not go into that gentle goodnight,
To the shore washed by noisy waves, chariots of fire
Wired woodwind instruments, for working ire of winnowing maize and corn, to be earnest I'm on a corn cob looking like a starry-eyed soul, marrying the riches with my egalitarian erogenous works, turning and turning
Having no limitation, as a limitation on a dead-eyed love maker
If you call my father, the straw hat pirate that left before I was born in adolescence, a dreamer

Looking avariciously for titillating tides in the mantra that washed over
Sleeping with words that never come out, and the handles the midnight spoon with gentle madness from scorn
Horns blowing on benzedrine, Eli Eli sabachtani cry from those living in the past, foreign to the timeline, crying for better love
Accepting, nothing at all, except my own confusion, better born of

Indignant of a falcon that flies for hatred of callow words
Second Coming! Epiphanies Shining dynamo! shards of childhood recovered by the genius behind the windowpane
He said, "The ocean looks the same."
I realized this with some silent vanity and silent pain, what does it mean, though?
Adonais or vacillating minds focused on the cheap attraction of phantom operas of Russia in Kaddish bowing to others in the other poems, sketches of Spain lay like acts, bowling the drunk-alley to the ******* before the cowards

Vultures in the ceiling of hunting obliterated cows in granite megalithic
Mummified in the tampering tapes of washing sins of our brother
I've got it bad tonight, can you hear me knocking?
I've come with a gentle madness and starry midriff, strengthened by the turning and turning

I'm tightening like a winding clock on winding road, speedometer, odometer baptized, I'm running on the tabula rasa
Mars is a soundless instrument if you play the music of D-day on the heart that knows the days of the adage, dramatically Dr. Manhattan now
Going into the gentle madness, common sense is common sense
Even in the sibilant rocketships, honesty hasn't lost its meaning in the thoughts of the common man

Walt Whitman and Allen Ginsberg met in Berkley Halls, in abeyance, nature with a check and original energetic frenetic ecstasy dreaming up Aeneas and Satryrichon, surely
About my life in my mind, not a soul looking for honesty, mind on my life wrote high on science fiction touting history at school surely positivity dreams for you a surging death
In sudden compare, death can do life and fleeing mother, the divorcee goes round and round, sometimes in the top of 4th Street
Still dreaming of yesterday, let it be I let you down

Parents the same, and from parents that remain the same in that song of fooling us, I might survive if I'm a mirror-clad, tad wise in this robot apartment where the soul stares at the natural affinity, you must get lonely in your reflection, or where it remains are behind, seeing me paralyzed
Where's your head at, in the heartaches and embrace, on the road of health clinics, looking for an angry stream of fixes
If I was buried
Yet, I am deep in this summer and sadness, nothingness or stealing glances from the light that dances
I'll steal your position, and put you in your place
Inner moonlight in ungodly attire, hide the madness around your fleeing prophet, the ceiling of madness dreams of debates
Debates aren't the tool of fool looking for the slander, looking to be outlandish
Going into the gentle madness, the generation of beatniks immolating on funeral pyres, and finding their Bolshevik pamphlet, and getting ***** with the bloodlust with the lustrous
The soul doesn't want, I bet it doesn't see the golden compass
Going into the midnight spoon, I've given up on the gentle madness of somber scalding souls balding it all
She stills walks into the bars, and my hairs turn into wires keep her away
Beyond the false compare, of time going by in the bar, looking for trustees in the flickering hallways

Mad generation in the taped scandalous laughter, of the running streams and stock, thus thinned like Macron's talk of the dull bits of drama cut out
Dramatic clicking of the typewriter, where are we gonna take these memories of suspicion unencumbered
In the name of milder weather for angel-hipsters, my mind cries silver saxophones undulating
Going into the gentle madness, will we have zero summers this year, no winters for seconds, winter waits unperturbed

I want you're to light to turn into heat, you can ask for the money instead of mewling about the life cycle in Pub-side buses with a steadfast old man who is fixed on the highway riders rambling on on composed sordid meets to their fathers, volitional emetics
On the hilts of iron balustrades, behind the curtained ceiling

The lizard can do anything, although he never leaves the highway summers for the search of eternal darkness
Moloch, he is lost in the road, beginning and end, trading paths and treading walks of life from trenches, carrying on the show misconstrued, tarrying it out

Dreaming up Arkansas and carrying out Dadaism in Greenwich village walking past the love in his mind
Dancing on the starry murders, we have to sit and stare at its jazz to talk of it, served by you
Living, undead, unbeing and is telling it me what I liked to be
Or changing us and telling us to like it is, with bated breath that understands
We cry tears in the  cottage stopping leaks with wattles, vines, and forlorn rags to stuff the gazebos, chained to the boat leading the blind
In the darkest lives, the brilliance of justice slips away from hands, then the hand that fed hit me with rulers and lessons
The didact stopped knocking on your door, going into the gentle madness of incredible seductive Seraphim
At what roundabout hour as this rough beast come to last, not taking no for an answer

In frugal free-prose that reads itself, balanced and splendid confusing us all, we could consult with our inner tumult as the life get's colder, warming to the last falconer crying on the Big Sur, in the desolate darkness
She saved sensitive ******* dreams, but, it's you that fortifies my solitude, why am I in this robotic apartment running on oil and simplicity
Electic shock, addiction to water-boarding, I have a wet towel around my waist
There is no was

When I could create man after man in this hospital clock, and the sorrows will never end
****** Suicides! Virgil cries! You now belong on the radio!

Aeneas reign in darkness and remember the time when we were stabbed in a time beyond false compare games of funeral rituals, burying

Anchises later wilts about losing fame in the flames of Troy, loser shows fool's glory and sows seeds and seeks gold in Empyrean isles built on Phyrgian scales writing light in the scaled heights of souls, working for self-made princesses of virginity so fair, that hath my honesty behest, dreaming up soup for *** in the breakfast mornings near yet so far from the golf clubs
The good walk is spoiled, with your few aphorisms
We will goodbye today, and speak of tomorrow later

A night in your head, and I'll find your daughter and write a whole culture, storming at the surfeited sea
To contradict ourselves is the constant chill of the given right of tragedy or it's a beautiful thing of corsets and eyes in the look for spectral rides in the rabble-rousing backends, gold heads in bookends is the tragedy of the righteous and hopeless
Nothingness, free-prose of peaches, in thy emperor is it the gift of tragedy often nectarines with skinned shapes and pear-shaped eyes on the valley
Closing on the style of Joan of Arc, John The Baptist, doing it dangerously
I'm burning in the recesses of my mind, tolling out to sea

Knowing power, character demands respect! And work demands fruition
We want our world, back without the words dreaming up the invisible humor with the eternal image of the circadian cry
Where you laugh at this Moloch madcap, cries under stairways of the fifth floor stocked by the barrels, lost and out of touch with their olfactory sensations lose their scent of success
They  have become bad, and the losers have evil
The good, bad, and the search for pyrite in suicides and painless

Locked out of heaven, until they can design the freedom of the people losing marbles in their sojourning each desireable day, sensed the
Guiding thine light in the darkest sound of silent screams from the duets in the sky

Asking what they do, sunflower of integrity
Surely some revelation is at hand
Asking what they doth speak, lasso in the muddied waters
Surely some invention is for the factotum instead
Asking what and I cannot relate and interpret industrialization, with pigs in animal cries from preventing utopia from getting a bad name looking over the live wire
All we need is prayers for the valley, I believe true love waits beyond the hysterical happiness below the herons, one-footed avian following the Roman city of Thugga
Hear the hair of your head, as the time goes by I grow balder
But, she still walks in the moonlight, taller with her head touching us with her free life following the gray cloud
Another year, I left N.Y., on West Coast in Berkeley halls caught up in gazebos and lacunae, selling us education by saddest dollars, under the quiet summers' hands

Dreamed of her electric soul, that, thriving with life, in what form it stood in that body, ashen or manic, gone beyond compunction in convivial jovial East Coast vials keep the invisible humor that tells us the heart understands the gestures of good books and good friends, open books and broken hearts
Unsere Stadt meer und der Liebe Hirsch
The day he reckons and the day of sordid affairs, in morbid decayed despair

She tells him to ready this stony ******* on a granite ****?
We look for the earth, laying in the obscura haggis on the star-spangled banner of twelfth notes and two years from now
The summer from the Dubrovnik, Slovak in their tongue
Hungary was amid the sadness of sorrowful seeds of Tangiersmen

There is no looking for blue eyes in the hallucinations of dreaming up Kansas and Losing Denver, sending their kisses to ecstasy
Lost in thoughts in a dream as the sun beats me to wit, shining on our pleasures in America's songs of the Harlem ghettos following the pact with suffering

Changing the minds of the mad generation
Never found in magic in Greenwich Village
The walks of life, are spoiled under the cloudless migrant sky, bebop doesn't stop and rock the patient under the magical esters of aestivated imagination

Ain't it dull streets, lying on our stabbed backs and the night's right
When you are so quiet?
Isn't that wrong, I think it's cold that you are so warm with something I love
Beyond a summer's night compare thee falsely, to thy will
Why, how now, Hecate! You look angerly. Snow-white and angel-headed looking for heaven in nameless streets

She lies in the saucy bedlam of the questions that affect all of the parasites in his legs without velleity
Preparing him for his chair, rising with the morning, May is the month living in the secrets of the stars
Living or undead, preparing for his chair
You can't stare at much, can you?
Staring at the ceiling with a sight for distant shell-shock
Staring here, I do live in the heart of darkness

Pushing it away, all from my wheelchair in the life of defeat
Defeat is a state of mind; no one is defeated until they left the might out to dry, clothing themselves in sin
Talk of light, do we have no supreme love for the losers
Greatness must be caught by the moon and left for the star-crossed lovers gathering for the intertwinein thine light
Go into the gentle madness, before your flesh goes before the bone

There are people who cannot tarry or aren't getting the attraction of madcap, he had stopped singing with forked lighting
Household objects which ones he didn't say, listing out the neon streets on Groundhog Day, Moloch horridus, you have taken my days now you have my ****** fluids too
I'm you or a promiscuous friend, without the madness, going into the gentle night smoking up marijuana war rooms
Smoking in the cino-smoking zones, carrying barrels for the handlooms, I see no smokestack wind carrying us on barren thoughts aft' wry comments

Rising with the dull roots that fight the gravity or whatever is down there with a raft, we're unfurling winds at last impatient
Waiting for the sun, in the constant chill of the sea
An old man in the honest idea of expressing himself, might not see
Ambitious wings and conviction in his sails too lost for the lively road and lost in them
Going into the gentle madness, America out of my mind
Changed my mind, I can either hate it or learn from the love and let it grow
Second coming talking of indignation in a brass cottage of tears, where fears are exchanged for the company of cold night
Some the fear the water, and hear the hydrogen jukebox in raging drunkardly in cannibal elder's delightful dance
Dancing on the yesterdays, swirling Saturdays, reasonable the shops will be closed on the Sundays waiting for Mr. Common woven

Birdie stickin' out of the sorrel shrub, and I'm in the burning tree poking the pinenuts too
The talk of weather in a wise man in cultivated in cultured and controlled by the plans of talk of intelligent heros in Dog day afternoon
Hymn of the lost summer, war makes maladies or a bad cold, nevertheless, there remains no need to sleep after dinner
With a song that remains the same, with the someone that he loves
Accepting the gentle hand, that touched his wax wings watered by lilies
Greedy flame blazing in my head, the knowledge speaks when wisdom silences others in innocent cognizance
Going into the gentle madness, reaching us in scarred Burroughs stares, becoming a fool in the books of many faceless contents
We keep them in a lunchbox, hurling the bells where the rock tolls for us
Going into the gentle madness, unfurling the epiphanies
Epiphanies! Do not be gay and blind, like a meteorite in the morning
Twenty years of solitude, in once an upon time dreamed dinner sleep

Going ahead without conviction is looking for doubt and not forgiveness
Asking for milder weather in lonesome drugs and forgiveness in breathless protagonists mulling over ancient time
Asking for forgiveness, from a friend on the harbored sky in the old and new bougainvillea of booked streets by stores and they're welcoming empty breezes in redemption, seeking where her hair endeth
Ages in likeness to the guilds of Eastern sages, whites of their eyes sharing the light of the ones guiding us through the bibulous black
In the barren wind of desolate angels blessing their wounds with bleeding howls, souped-up bowls, strapped ancestors to rocketmen searching beyond the jazzmen who once played the blues instead of forsaking their meaning, asking thy will

Her hand wasn't fair anymore, in thine light searching for a dalliance in radiance, while handling the teapot
Had a bad cold, nevertheless, but, a king of my heart dealing wicked cards like a friend knowing of true freedom and open stores of pop-culture creating open looks

Nonetheless, her nosegay was rife with two people looking for faults in the frozen wallflower, on his wheelchair
One-eyed merchant keeping his on the grass of life, making peace with wants he owns, kitsch photos of the Visions of the Lord

With a patch of wrath and a touch of madness, go into the gentle madness with the children playing with their swings, in the heat of the night
Nonetheless, these passionflowers call to me over, motionless center pop, when love whistles strangely in whispering song
Where music listens, and knowledge speaks of guiding the listeners look for love on the radio
Environmental collectivism in the laissez-faire fire that started the burning communist captain harboring the blocs, and they never found Lenin until March dawned on, shining! Government! ****** suicides! Virgil cries! Love! Mercy! Robot apartment! Where you drink the tea of the ******* of the spinsters of Utica! Blessed be she who brings death to us all, in the name of thy father
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.


translated by W.S. Merwin
Benji James Jul 2018
Never felt this confident
(In love)
Baby girl
It's not enough
To say I'm in love
I never expected this

There are so many things
I gotta say to you
But let me just
Start by saying

I wanna kiss you
under the waterfall
beneath the starry sky
(We can do it all)
Nothing so wrong
Could ever feel this right
Girl I've never felt more alive

Am I nervous
(No)
Got butterflies,
From the moment
I look into your eyes
Girl, please stay in my life
I've never been more alright.

There are so many things
I gotta say to you
But let me just
Start by saying

I wanna kiss you
under the waterfall
Beneath the starry sky
(We can do it all)
Nothing so wrong
Could ever feel this right
Girl I've never felt more alive

Is she perfect
(Yes)
Oh the way she talks to me
Girl, I'm falling to my knee's
Never been addicted
To someone like this
Your lipstick stains my lips
From the touching
When we kiss

There are so many things
I gotta say to you
But let me just
Start by saying

I wanna kiss you
under the waterfall
Beneath the starry sky
(We can do it all)
Nothing so wrong
Could ever feel this right
Girl I've never felt more alive

Every time we walk
Along the beach
At night
I'm holding your hand
Then our eyes meet
And we fall into the sand
Making out as the waves
Crash in the background
Something so wrong
Could ever feel so right
Yeah I have never felt more alive

There are so many things
I gotta say to you
But let me just
Start by saying

I wanna kiss you
under the waterfall
Beneath the starry sky
(We can do it all)
Nothing so wrong
Could ever feel this right
Girl I've never felt more alive

©2018 Written By Benji James
I had to re-upload these lyrics again, just because these lyrics are in my new Youtube video. If you would like to watch it. This is the link... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91o885A8DdY
Jessica M. Cruz Sep 2010
As I gaze up out my window at the starry sky,
I think of you and fight back the tears and the urge to cry.
So I close my eyes and let the wind blow on my face,
and let my imagination take me away.. away to a better place.
A place where you are there and I am in your arms,
Where you my Prince Charming will protect me from any harm.
I smile because at that moment all my pain goes away,
even though it will soon be over as my night turns into day.
I realize and will always know that my true happiness is where you are,
but no matter how hard I try to reach you.. you are just too far.
So tonight.... tonight..... at this moment.. at this time,
we are together.. together in this imagination of mine.
So yes I smile as I stare up at the starry sky,
because I know as long as you are in my heart I can never say goodbye.
So instead... instead.. I say goodnite...
CJ Manoos May 2017
it was a beautiful starry night when we were both drunk, lying on the sand
you told me bout your ugly and weird fascinations
i was intently listening to your most peculiar thoughts
there were moments when we could just shut up for a minute
but feel no awkwardness at all
i can hear you breathing
and that, i think, is still the best melody I've heard so far
sometimes i'd take a quick look at your face
you looked so happy, i almost thought i was dreaming, as if everything's not real
but no, it was profoundly true. we felt infinite. that was the only time i ever felt alive.
but that was then, life happened. and i don't know where you are now.
i wonder who's lying with you on the sand now, listening intently to your most peculiar thoughts
listening closely to your inhales and exhales
sharing the most comfortable silences with you
staring at the beautiful moonlight, feeling infinite. wishing the night would never end.
he must be so lucky.
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
When the sun
is a sleeping beauty at night
shining on the Moon!
The night is wake
is a stunner far cuter.
It knows no cold foot
is on the move.

The full wax of the starry
sky keeps awake.
But none could chart a line
exposing a beautiful
night in the veil, no one
says a single word.

The first one perhaps that
dared to open the mouth
only to be speechless
to be lost for word!

Not a night or two ago but
since the dawning of the time!
Rj Jan 2015
Road trips with old cars
With ski racks and kayaks
Park and open the sunroof
And we can fall asleep
Gazing up at the stars,
Or at eachother, whichever
Who's up for a long escape?
HTR Stevens Sep 2018
When the starry host shine on high
Like silver glist’ning in the sky,
How exhilaration does flow
Thro’ my veins like the chilly snow!
These soldiers that guard the darkness,
That steal from thieves their happiness,
That spy on lovers’ secrecy
And drift them more to ecstasy,
Will dim away when dawn draws nigh
Without a breath, nor moan, nor sigh.

— The End —