Cries of a StarCries of a Star18 hours ago in Free Verse
I am far away, I am cold, but I am not alone
Billions and trillions there are, so much unknown.
Vast and wonderous, numerous and bright
Do you see me looking at you every night??
I am not yellow like the "unique" ones you love
The ones that bring you warmth from above.
Nor am I the treasured ones of the night
Softly lighting the dark, massive to your eyes and bright.
I could die right now and none of you would know
But if I wanted the attention, I could burst into colors just for show.
I want to be loved, touched, I want to feel something tonight
Please do not be afraid, that I burn at 200 million ferinhiet.
Do you ever dream of being with me, reaching out and touching me??
Well, I really wouldn't mind the new company.
Floating stardust is all we are, all I will ever be
Star dust, floating side by side, rotating plainly, through our galaxies.
Symphony of ColdThe day has begun to slumberSymphony of Cold1 day ago in Free Verse
and the creatures of ice begin to play.
As the sun has already made its leave
which kept them all at bay.
The moon spreads its frost on all
as the night sky began to fall.
The pale ghosts dance in the wind
but die in an instant when felt by a hand.
The tall behemoths have already been asleep
For they all knew that winter was deep.
The foxes already have coats of white
So did others, as they run into the night.
The gales sing a song of praise.
As they were waiting to do so for so many days.
Winter wraps you in, it can much fun.
But it will eventually cry when it is done.
Today I went to the OceanToday I went to the oceanToday I went to the Ocean1 day ago in Free Verse
And I know it's controversial,
but I thanked god for the life I've been given
In that moment I felt freedom
Unlike the kind I ever felt
Ungoverned, no strings attached
nothing expected, no fear attached
I was free, not distracted by what I could be
Ice cold pressed against my toes
No shame of what I didn't know
It was a cleanse, it was like striking gold
Not everyone will know how much that means to me
And sharing these things is a rare sight from me
ExposureAt leisure, nature may impress tranquility.Exposure1 day ago in Free Verse
Aesthetically, nature can fuel inspiration.
In full, nature turns harsh and unbecoming.
Overtime, nature will wear and erode a person.
Cyclically, nature destroys one to create another.
NocturneDarkness engulfs the weary woodsNocturne1 day ago in Free Verse
Wrapping the skies in velvety wings
Slight chill felt in the soothing air
Soft breezes whispers, rustling leaves
Clear scent of greenery mingled with cold
Stars shines bright in the depthless skies
Single moon casts down silvery glow
Humming insects, nightingales sing
Murmuring waters travels unseen
Souls of the deceased free in flight
In total rest and total peace
Veiled in secrecy with everything unknown
There are things that mankind can't see
Seen At Night, Gone At Day...Seen At Night, Gone At Day...Seen At Night, Gone At Day...14 hours ago in Free Verse
Did you see that shooting star that night?
That star streak that shone so very bright?
Like a beautiful work of art filled with light,
In the blink of an eye it was out of sight,
Stars like little diamonds scattered across the night sky,
With the glowing Moon so round and haunting to the eye,
Though when it's time for the Sun to rise up high,
The Moon turns to leave and bids us all goodbye.
Nature's CharmNature's CharmNature's Charm1 day ago in Free Verse
Clouds drift aimlessly
and birds take flight.
The Sun's brilliant rays
assault flowing water.
Leaves rustle in
the gentle Spring breeze
while grass blades
accumulate the morning dew.
Around the world
in a place more cold,
the Borealis shines
and snow gracefully drifts down.
The cold front's winds have died
Colors blur together into
like the seasons do
as years too blur together.
Minutes fall to hours,
which fall to days,
which fall to years;
so quickly life is robbed from us.
However, given all we've been given
to co-exist with,
is that really a bad thing?
In Praise of the FoolTo those be jewelled in ignoranceIn Praise of the Fool1 day ago in Free Verse
and wear “I don't knows” upon fingers.
To those that look and see nothing
though they've stared for years.
You don't deserve the scorn you get
for all the blood you gather
when you are what life is made of.
All the things that matter.
They say that life is mystery
and that we should never know
beyond the wall and past the sea
though the rest of us still what of.
We strive to seek to know
but you still see a mystery
long after we name the facts.
You adore the wrapping darkness
while we label every crack.
I long to see what you see
each bend, a new surprise.
You truly see the world a new
at every waking sunrise
Birds/MemoriesBeautifulBirds/Memories1 day ago in Free Verse
Heartbreaking against the sunset
Annoying at 4:00 am
Descendants of greater things
Equal (Creative Communications Published Poem)I wander into a wonderful sightEqual (Creative Communications Published Poem)20 hours ago in Free Verse
birds of all colors and species
a brilliant midnight blue peacock
to a gleaming alabaster stork
none sneer at the other
for the color of their feathers
nor the size of their beaks
nor the way they squawk
they are equal
they all roam under a single tree
bathe in the same stream
rustle in the same branches
fly in the same skies
and none feel out of place
I came to hunt but leave
not a thing in hand
I saw beauty today
I saw true equality.
Bare BranchesMany poets deliberate on the changing of the seasons.Bare Branches1 day ago in Free Verse
The raging, vibrant colours
that confuse our rhyme with reason.
We sing high praises of climbing leaves
and the chill that licks the air
that turn the breathing wind to screams
Why is there no mention of bare and ancient branches
of grey barked sigels
of long past tales and future snatches.
Creaking dead fingers that slice autumn morns
who forbade harsh tomorrows
and painted the living to warmth.
Rough-faced sleeping guardians watch over their world
of us who curse their passing.
We hate when they're tired and rejoice as their born.
Yet it's the poet's to blame who speaks only in colour.
Love the harsh and the dull.
Adore Earth and her Mother