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The moon is spilling through the window pane Its tranquil beauty capturing my eyes Illuminating the navy blue skies Revealing silhouettes the world contains Moonlight and shadows spill across my face While an orchestra outside fills my ears Crickets' lullabies are heard loud and clear Their peaceful music filling empty space As the moon is spilling through the window I gaze upon its surface dimly lit Wond'ring if a loved one also sees it Such a thought sets my heart and smile aglow The moon is s
Pop! Bang! Sizzle! I startle at the noise That sounds like rice krispies - amped on steroids. Did a car backfire? A gun fight break out? What in the world could such noise be about? Once at the window, my eyes search the night Sizzle! Pop-Pop! I'm greeted by a sight: A man-made evening art show in the sky Red, white and blue for the fourth of July. Pop! Bang! Bang! I watch colors as they burst. Rainbows are destroyed - their remnants dispersed. I mourn their dying ashes as they fall, Camouflaged
To forgive a cruel act is kindness - Or is the gesture really selfish? To let go of hurtful feelings for one's own serenity, and not for others' sakes. Yet if vocalized, that peace is spread, selflessly sharing joy.
Nature's warm candlelight glows and reflects Off her beautiful gown of solid white, Illuminating her dark empty space, Resulting in peaceful short-term delight. Sitting thoughtfully beside my window, I try to mimic this inspiration. Dressed in white - with a candle in my hand, I recreate peace by imitation...
Evil ghosts of my past... A bitter lemon, once ripe and delicious - Once, a big part of my life - has dried out and rotted: lost it's vibrancy. Lost their power over me. Angels of my past... A cupcake, once moist and comforting - Once, always there for me - has hardened, dehydrated: grown bacteria. have grown apart from me. I can see these... ancient artifacts, decaying with each passing day - ancient memories - to take a bite now, to dwell on them now
My youthful roots, firm, yet exposed, ground my slender trunk - concealed by taut bark, already defaced by humankind. My elongated, twiggy branches extend towards the heavens, not in surrender, but in a silent plea for healing tears from above. A cleansing shower of nourishment to my very essence, causing growth. Manifesting blossoms in my foliage, my inner beauty is exposed...
The sky is blue during the day, on bouncy clouds birdies play. Then the yellow sun turns white, and the blue sky turns black at night. Sometimes clouds get sad and cry, And their tears fall down from the sky. Note: Prompt was to write about the sky in a poem, in the eyes of a 7 year old you. This is pretty much how I figure I'd have regarded the sky when I was 7.
Her down to earth personality Becomes visible for all to see: Terrestrial angel bedecks the land, In auburn foliage garishly grand. Nature's canvass depicts flawlessly Her down to earth personality, That silently draws an owl - wise and old, To her side where she stands out in gold. Despite the dagger worn on her waist, The wise old bird has good judgment and taste. Her down to earth personality Evokes trust in all life, wild and free. The dagge
Happy Halloween: Is it trick or treat? Candy is reserved for those who are sweet. If your costume barely covers your rear, The trick is - you get no treats my dear. A trick or a treat? Depends what you wear, So rebellious teenage girls: Beware.
