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Free Verse Mountains Poems | Free Verse Poems About Mountains

These Free Verse Mountains poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Mountains. These are the best examples of Free Verse Mountains poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Pinnacle

Inviting and magnetic the towering awesome sight
A perspective of domineering rock and icy peaks
It challenges, dares and beckons with unfolding beauty
Stretching upwards into shades of blue and puffy clouds. 
Along the winding sloping trail I make my way, the easy
Lower tract encased in green, till rough terrain appears
Then stimulation is released when steep ascent arrives.
I climb and breathe the pure fresh air, intense intoxication
It is so peaceful all around, a place for meditation.
The time goes by. I look for holds and make full use of spikes 
Intent on concentration. The wind comes by and contributes
To the hazards of melting ice and hidden crevasses
The weary limbs in need of rest; a keen lookout for falling rocks
An avalanche of crumbling doubts that slows the pace... 
Subdued exhilaration when the going gets too hard.
At last the top is right above. An added burst of strength
Dispels the peril of defeat. One final forward thrust 
Victory is mine. The summit reached I gaze in awe
Surveying with pride my sprawling kingdom down below.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Contest: Pinnacle
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen

Copyright © Paul Callus

Details | Free verse | |

World above the clouds

Far away from this bonded crowd,
Far away from these layers of 
shroud,
Oh wings of the air glide me away,
To the world, world above the 
clouds.

To the giant mountains of mist,
Where sparkling houses of rain 
will 
be built,
World beneath where would be 
moving,
And sun rays where will be cold 
and soothing.

Where I won’t be bound by laws,
And I could speak freely about 
the 
things I love aloud,
Yeah to the world with cloud 
above the clouds,
Where everything just everything 
will be allowed.

Sliding on morning dews that stays 
till night,
Diving in the night’s sky that looks 
like morning light,
With no paths to follow,
I’ll glide free and fast,
Yawing, pitching, bouncing, 
shouting,
Like the endless penumbra it’s 
unknown where I’ll last
Yeah endless it is,
And it’s unknown where I’ll last



For Above the CloudsContest
I think I am late :-( posting this 
anyways

Copyright © Shiraz Iqbal

Details | Free verse | |

Nature Portraits - Mountain, Sequoia, Sunset, Thunderstorm, Waterfall

The grandeur of a majestic mountain standing proud against the horizon with its snow-capped peak enveloped in fleecy white clouds against a clear azure blue sky The glorious majesty of a stately sequoia towering above the surrounding vegetation being the largest living thing on earth its massive trunk over thirty feet wide with its gnarled rugged beauty The wondrous artistry of the setting sun edging the darkened clouds with silver linings and painting the evening sky in brilliant colours of the rainbow mirrored on the ocean's surface below The awesome power of a thunderstorm at night with jagged bolts of lightning that split the darkness and light up the surroundings with blinding dazzling intensity The thunderous roar of a mighty waterfall cascading down in huge torrents of liquid fury smashing into the water below creating mists of water droplets that transform the sunlight into a rainbow

Copyright © john beharry

Details | Free verse | |

THAW AT CROWSNEST PASS

THAW     AT    CROWSNEST     PASS  

Huge mountains massed and  cliffs  sheer.  It’s  March
And endless  blue  sky  cold is held back by the Chinook arch,
Snowy prairies rolling into their  thousand-mile realm  -  
The landscape  is gigantic, majestic, orchestrated to overwhelm.

But I stand and watch the lake-ice thaw,
Surprised by the tiny delicate music  -
Descant  ice -  jingling,  jangling,  tinkling
In delicate accompaniment  to the giant symphony.                                       
Ice chunks tangled in slow waves with the wind
Tiny  tintinnabulation before total ablation.
There is silence  and  harmony  around the sound,
The small melody of the ice breaking  into spring’s  chorus.




Note:   Crowsnest Pass is the southernmost way through the Rocky Mountains in Canada

Copyright © Sidney Beck

Details | Free verse | |

Newly Conceived Sunshine

   As the sun awakens the forest,
   I ascend the faded trail.
   A doe and her fawn spring,
   startled by the stranger,
   traipsing through their paradise.
   These overlooked alpine slopes
   soak in tranquility, 
   and newly conceived sunshine.
   Enchanted and purified I drink
   from untouched springs of refreshment.

   Give the valleys to the cities.
   Grant the plains to the farmers.
   Leave the mountains to her unsettled visitors.

   Where civilization grows,
   ugliness breeds in desperate streets.
   Pollution collects beside her gutters.
   Man turns on himself in greed.
   In the places people gather,
   desecration and hatred are common,
   and he is cut off from himself.
   His cities are bastions of confusion,
   concrete coffins awaiting the fill.
   Save me from our urban abominations. 
   
  

Copyright © Wayne Hill

Details | Free verse | |

The Mountains

In the musty mountains crevices
covered with overgrown foliage.
Trees hang on the edges
grasping the sheer rock
of these aging towers
 that reach for the sky.
The clear pristine waterfalls
flow endlessly, cascading downwards
Into the cool blue pools below.
The water creates a rainbow
within it's downward spiral.
Sparkling water sprays
 sprinkling
all that lies in it's path.
As it flows the downhill slopes,
it veers and runs to the canopy
of forest  below.
The water along with it's cleansing rain
are nature's refreshment.
 

Copyright © Phyllis Babcock

Details | Free verse | |

Northwest

Joined mountains and blankets of forests
Where the sun dances just above the breeze
Deep inside the past and positions of clouds
Following branches and roots to the inside of the earth
Meadows and crevices, climbing alpine heights
Freedom in the wildflowers and fields
Memories tangled up down long dusty roads

Copyright © Jeffrey Bovee

Details | Free verse | |

Mountain Poem

I love sky I love trees
and sometimes I can feel the breeze.
I feel like I can fly
With the wind pushing my hair back so lightly the trees are waving
My hair is swaying so is yours as we glide together
as we watch the sunset go bye
and once again I can feel the breeze
the mountains are high
so so high
they are so high
see them see them
yes
to protect me as I walk across the lake
I love the lake
it is so big big big big
I love big
do you like big?
I like the mountains
do you?
they are so straight like a statue do you think?
the mountains are high in the sky
I love to just watch the sunset go bye
so quiet and slow like the clouds I soar through the sky
I love soaring through the sky

Copyright © Katheryn Prier

Details | Free verse | |

REACHING THE PEAK





Here i am again hiking near a mountaintop as the aroma of hibiscus reminds me of my charmed youth, of a serenity the winds cannot contain. As I reach the peak, my breath spills of gratitude, gently affirmed. It didn't matter if the trees are older now perhaps, rustling my grandfather and Dad’s sleeves--- or if the mossy ferns gather like wrinkled toes on a late afternoon. I was bathed with soft of light beyond the ridges inhaling the serene madness of a nature-child as if the moment stretched into a dance of family bonfire. I flow… and now, my sweet memory retains a journey of girlhood days: on Mt.Cordillera, the fullness of my spring lips, my summer cheeks embrace a rapture I cannot touch or cuddle in my arms. While gazing at how new stars emit their beauty; all I know is on this angelic evening’s bliss… I become a child of eight again. Anthony Slausen's Pinnacle Contest

Copyright © nette onclaud

Details | Free verse | |

WATERFALLS, RIVERS AND DROUGHT

WATERFALLS, RIVERS AND DROUGHT

The frenzied forces of cold, icy streams
detonate explosively on the rocks below.
Their rapid currents wreak havoc 
on logjams caught in crevasses beneath
the mist and rainbowed spray.

We blink in awe to see this
spectacular remonstration 
of pretentious power abruptly
become whirling vortexes
of descending splash downs.

But then, almost as quickly, this despoiler settles
and begins to accumulate in multitudes
of rippling bubbles and froth 
immediately bleeding onto the embankment
promptly losing much of its potential goodness 
swooshed as sucking sounds
into the wild soils of the firmament.

What survives roams free and for awhile 
flows in any direction, with no beginning, no end 
as the river turns into riverlets
Eddying on without any selected steering. 

The rains that used to drip down from the mountain top 
cry to see the diversions of the most glorious river 
dissipate and dry up knowing that the drought 
which has appeared can not adequately supply 
sustenance to a parched soil. 

For that sunbaked soil to be reclaimed
the river must continue to extend its reach
and water the seeds of new growth. 
and use its silt to fertilize the new life
that waits anticipating its turn 
in creation's timetable.

CAK 6-04-2012 Revised 6-18-2013

Copyright © Allan Koven

Details | Free verse | |

Alpinist

I can feel the frigid air bite my lungs
as my shallow breaths try in vain to
soothe and stop the burning pain.
Each struggling footfall could be my last,
yet the mountain taunts me to keep onward.
The snow has consumed my crampon booted feet 
with numbness as trembling loins beg my brain for rest.
Heartbeats match the pounding in my head.
I just can’t stop now when so near the summit.
Blinding snow begins to fall as I leave my two
closest friends behind on the promontory.
They plead with me to turn back with them.
All sensibilities have vanished into the whiteness.
“As I feel the snow fly, I will conquer or die”.
Let these words be my epitaph I call to them,
should the mountain claim my sorry soul.

August 10, 2014
For Charlotte Puddifoot's
Dark Poetry Contest

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong

Details | Free verse | |

Purple Majesty

There's a place to go that feels like a kingdom-
sounds like the magic of a newborn day.
Those shreds of illusion I wrap myself up in
can never dissolve the rapture I'm seeing.
Gazing intently at miles of enchantment
the roar of the mountain takes over my senses.
Layered in purple with streaks of black-silver
singing out clearly across the horizon,
this is the stuff that most dreams are made of.
Amethyst notes that play on in your soul.


for contest  "The Sound Of Color"

Copyright © Deb Wilson

Details | Free verse | |

SOMEWHERE ON TOP

SOMEWHERE ON TOP Breathing free, I behold-- sash-like fluffy blue clouds hugging mountain-waists. Nearby, terrace of trees greets and falls that warble deep. ___________________ ©O.E. Guillermo 05:20 PM, January 10, 2015 30 syllables Sponsor nette onclaud Contest Name SOMEWHERE

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo

Details | Free verse | |

Mountains

Would I could recall and savor
the striking moment
I came to know of mountains.
Not lowland’s timid rolling hills,
adorned with scant veneer
of weeds, cement and green-grass lawns,
but lofty pinnacles that scratch the sky
with unyielding granite,
against whose might
the setting sun itself does daily yield—
Its bluster damned in mute dismay.
Yet there faintly linger,
among the tangled ganglia
of my mind, images and feelings…
of summits gained, and all the world below,
that I might behold
unforgettable things,
which mountains
have no need to remember.

Copyright © Mark Peterson

Details | Free verse | |

To be a part of landscape

 You can travel the four thousand miles of the Nile
to its source and never find it.
You can climb the five highest peaks of the Himalayas
and never recognize it.
You can gaze through the largest telescope
and never see it.

 To be a part of landscape

From a distance landscape has a
recognizable outline. 
A skin mite, grazing fleshy meadows 
grotesque microscopic cow,
has no concept of the human form it feeds from.

Just as a mountain in close proximity
is no longer symbolic of its form,
romance and the imagination of it
is reduced to a frozen, physical obstruction
that is a challenge to survival.

The skin mite tumbles, a huge force
has torn it's clawlike hooves from
living apertures, it falls
with flakes of dead turf into a 
depthless void, unoticed 
by the scratcher,

and the mountain climber sees the
blinding wall of snow that
flashes by him as he falls,

unoticed by the mountain.

 Suzanne Delaney
 For Giorgio's Impress Me 111 Contest
Philosophy.

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney

Details | Free verse | |

Greenbrier River Dreams

The clouds drape low, 
shrugging blue mountain shoulders,
melding with ghostly river mist
ascending in specterous vapor trails
salted with primordial tears.

Between stately mottled sycamores 
and aged medicinal white oaks,
slippered phantom figures glide,
clad in hides of deer and mountain lion.
Down to the silvered stream--
a mirror for chalky spirits and bright stars--
they slip to drink of pristine springs.
The powerful spell impacts within, without,
invading every animated sense.

A dream, an apparition? 
I wonder at the dawn of bright sun rising,
green moss clad boulders warmed, fog dissipated. 
I discern the curious sensation
of withdrawing from an ancient trance.

The happy river dances down the valley,
bordered in mountain laurel ruffles, pink;
the fragrance of breakfast bacon wafts,
a tantalizing, hunger inducing wave,
and campers' laughter echoes off a dream.

August 19, 2014

Copyright © Faye Gibson

Details | Free verse | |

Spring Showers

Living on a mountain top in Vermont "Spring Showers" are very dangerous
With several feet of snow still covering the rocky terrain above the tree line
a recue unit is always prepared for the fools that climb the cliffs; unprepared
They pay no heed to the weather report: Spring Showers today and tomorrow
on top of a mountain the rain falls and creates tiny rivers under the snowdrifts
A slow rain tears the bottom layer of snow away with a sheet of ice at its base
The potential now for an Avalanche just rose 80%.Are there fools climbing today?
every fifteen minutes, the rescue squad check their gear. The thermo body raps,
Snowshoes, Snow spikes, heat sensored depth poles,helmets with red, yellow,
and green push on lights, two way radios;checked batteries,Coffee and Whiskey
When one lives up here long enough; You can hear the snowdrifts : drifting
It has been raining for almost 48 hours,as raindrops keep falling my fears rise
Down in the Valleys, they cherish the April Showers,looking forward to May Flowers
I have to go now and call on my ham operator radio for assistance.The alarm is
ringing, the Snow is rumbling down the side of the Mountain.You asked to tell why
we do or do not like Spring Showers. I will tell YOU when and if I Return.

April 15, 2013 for the Contest : "Spring Showers" Sponsored by "Russell Sivey"

Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire

Details | Free verse | |

Improvements

The wilderness has been improved of late,
Or so they say.
The maple trees where sticky syrup oozed
Between the cracks of scarred and broken bark,
The wild apple trees whose crooked branches
Cradled clumps of crudely woven twigs,
Have been replaced by houses, row on row
Of painted boxes gleaming in the naked sun.

The narrow trail, a divine doodle
Traced across the earth and kept in place
By centuries of coyote and bear
And deer that bounded zigzag up the slope
Lies tame and straight beneath the asphalt sweep
That cuts a leveled swath across the peak.
The blackberry briars that pressed against the path
And tore the skin from little hands that wiped 
the purple stain on Sunday clothes,
Are cut away, and soft green grass grows in their place.

“Superior development, and more to come,”
The realtor explains,
Not knowing that I was here before.
I scan the hills for one certain house,
An Improvement on a three-room shack
where squirrels chattered in the rafters
And wasps built nests against the eaves,
And berry bushes dirtied up the window panes.

The modern house is pink with snowy trim;
A cement sidewalk leads from drive to door,
And tulips nod obediently by the steps.
Beyond the manicured lawn,
The last undeveloped forest hugs the hill,
And stubborn briars spill onto the planted grass.
“I’ll buy the house,” I tell the man.
He sees me looking at the woods and smiles
Apologetically. “For a slightly higher fee,”
he says, “that bit of forest can be cleared.”
“I’ll take it as it is,” I tell him.
“The blackberries might still grown in there.”

Copyright © Karen Ruff

Details | Free verse | |

What Lies Behind The Mountain

What lies behind the mountain?
 A far and distant land?
 Are there valleys and flowers,
 Or hot and burning sands?

What lies behind the mountain?
 A place I’ve never known?
 Is it desolate, and barren,
 Or do you reap where you’ve sown?

What lies behind the mountain?
 Somewhere to rest my head?
 Do the weary cease their labor,
 Or do they toil in fear and dread?

What lies behind the mountain?
 The sun’s warming glow?
 Should I stop or keep on going?
 Many things I do not know.

But I know what is behind me,
 And where those paths have led.
 Of all the odds around me
 Greater things must lie ahead.

Copyright © Crystal Mosier

Details | Free verse | |

Autumn's Breath

You whisper in my ear
midmorning bird songs
with that scent of mountain air
and foliage extracting its green emblem.
Switching to fields of neon;
your breath mimics the sunset sky
the feeling of kissing your newborns forehead,
so gentle and soft your entrance.
You ease your way into a majestic overlook
of pomegranate leaves,
and weak, crisp, dead skinned grass.

My delicate irises wince at
overpowering sun rays
but the heart of your existence
I open my eyes for.
I can’t miss this.
My body balanced
by your impeccable temperature,
my darling,
you look so beautiful tonight,
in my window frame,
your fire grows in the pale moonlight.

You whisper in my ear
midnight cricket hymns
so seducing in your presence
that I can’t get enough of this. 

Copyright © Katie Pukash

Details | Free verse | |

Autumn Leaves

Trees shed

Their Autumn Leaves.

 

Autumn Leaves-

That fall,

That twirl

And then embrace the ground.

 

Autumn Leaves-

That flood

The pathways I tread

And the horizon I see.

 

Amidst them, I halt

Amongst them, I sit,

Stare and admire

Them as they shower from trees.

 

I listen to them,

As they rustle,

And cuddle

In the soothing autumn breeze.

 

Wondrous it is to listen

To the tales they tell,

Tales spelled in their toungless accents

Tales that are the soul of each of those

Falling, twirling, rustling

Autumn Leaves.

Copyright © Suyash Saxena

Details | Free verse | |

Those Who Climb Mountains

Those who climb mountains
	live forever
	unless they fall.
They only drink icicle drip
	and chew thorns.
Their soles are like thin mattresses
	that are well used.

They breath tinted air,
	unfiltered.
Over and over again
	the hill is calling.
No obstacle is too long.
They are blind
	except by instinct.

A raptor circles, catching a thermal.
The climber would mount one
	and ride higher
	if he could.
A rock falls from its place
	and like a seesaw 
	lifts the hikers.

Always there is imagination.
Always there is a goal.
Sky is no limitation.
Her imagination is married
	to her distant goal.
Rules are broken here:
	no time for fooling.

They are reaching,
	reaching,
Like shoppers wanting stacked goods
	on a high shelf.
The eagle flies in the day;
	the climbers never stop.

Mountaineers are like people,
	colorful as the Swiss.
Their cheeks glow like tomatoes.
Their toenails are steep.
Finally the launch is ready
	and all who climb
	drift down again.

Copyright © Bill Yates

Details | Free verse | |

Tahawus - a short poem with a very long footnote

A polite rain
joined me briefly
before heading uptrail
to leave me standing, alone,
in a suddenly steaming forest.

1) Roger Davis
2) Nature
3) old

I wrote this on a hikein the Adriondacks to  to Mt Marcy, the highest mountain in New York State. My Adirondack  Guide indicated that Tahawus was the a first Nation (Iroquois ??) name for the mountain and it  meant “cloud-splitter.”   I decried that the mountain is now named "Mt. Marcy"after William L. Marcy, who as Governor of New York (1833-1839), authorized the geological survey that explored the area. I  speculated that this is why there is so little poetry in our time.

However, a later Wikipedia search revealed that the name was likely never used by the aboriginal peoples of the area to refer to the mountain, and its meaning, may have no roots in any language. 

Copyright © Dave Will

Details | Free verse | |

The Tree

High amongst the mountain peaks,
Stands a gnarled old tree.
Clinging desperately to the rocky cliff,
It is the only one to see.
How many years long past,
Has the tree tried to live,
On that rocky outcropping,
The mountain would grudgingly give.
Into the ancient cracks of the mountainside,
The tree’s roots desperately cling,
Barely covered in the little soil,
That the airs could barely bring.
For countless ages has it borne,
The wraths of wind, ice, and snow.
Reduced to a contorted pose,
The tree continues to grow.
Half dead in the summer it is,
From the eternal lack of rain.
Still, when the snows do melt,
It tries to grow again.
How many years more will it be,
Before the tree is finally slain,
And standing there forevermore,
Its withered shell shall remain. 

Copyright © Evan Griffin

Details | Free verse | |

The Adirondacks

My heart is in the Adirondacks
And day by day i drink the courage
captured in these mountain heights. 
The trail winds across the slope where bramble
lies like Tangled Truth--Blending Berries and Briars
--Bold challenges for hungry wanderers. 
The great white pine leans low in mountain wind--
but lifts its top again--the living hiding place
of antelope and bear--and little things
the birds and scurriers finding safety
in the needled limbs.
The contradictions here abound,
The breathless height amid hollow crevices,
The stillness--absence of humanity--amid
a cacophony of Nature's jumbled cries;
the barren rock 'tween rooted evergreens;
the toxic elder hiding almond scented mushrooms;
the dying elm that shades the sprouting oak;
The tumultuous roar of naked storms
Belied in the quiet tumble of mountain streams.
All these things--these contradictions
do but mirror the tortured passion
in my breast. Nor in the madding cities
or steepled churches hiding frightened people--
nor yet, in tenuous arms of would be lovers--
do i find peace. But only here--
where trembling deer dip cautiously 
into the water's edge; squirrels scold
in unquiet trees, and wild turkeys
strut unfrightened across the wind-bare
rocks. Here--on a mossy bank--
where the current curves in gurgling smiles
around the jutting stones; here
 in the flickering welcome of mountain shadows 
 the human  spirit  finds release.

Copyright © Karen Ruff

Details | Free verse | |

Where infinity lies

Between the sea
And the mountains that seem
To hold hands
Refusing to let go
Of each other's ties
For together is the home that lasts
While at the same time
Bathing their feet
In the love of deep blue sea.

A place of serenity
That once seized
One comes to feel infinity
Watching the tides
Moving onward to the shore
As they have done
For thousands of years and more
Protecting all life
For it knows its size.

Many have come and go
I suppose
But the land remained
The mountains have kept their hands
Together, hoping some day
Some will catch on to their message
It is here one can know peace
That holding hands enhance
That the sea from the moment of first glance
Has been so in love with
Reaching out to this eternal bliss
In tidal waves of
Everlasting love.

By CarolineCecile
Copyright August 2010

Copyright © Caroline Cécile Delacroix

Details | Free verse | |

Last Sonnet



Hither I stand, at crossroads,
And then I gaze, at the yonder end-
The vague horizon from where I began;
And all that I may ever deem
Is that- my days
Have been a waken dream.

Hither I stand, at the edge of my dream;
Then I wonder, at the depth of my trance-
An adventurous journey through the wondrous woods;
An idyllic stroll through the vicissitudinous meadow;
And from the final station as I depart,
All that I can ever say, is that
Perpetuation has been a rouge
Of fleeting phases of my life.


Suyash Saxena 
St. Stephen’s College.

Copyright © Suyash Saxena

Details | Free verse | |

KILIMANJARO


I traveled and see
The mount of glory
Where animal and person
Live as friends
The mountain of peace
Caries two peaks
Home of wonders
Guests be keen on

Mawenzi is the smaller
Kibo is the taller
They all have snow
Melts to life juice

The mountain is splendor
Tanzania must celebrate
sheltered colonizers and travelers 
Kilimanjaro is the mount
Where lord was worshiped
A mount of glory where glory lives
Dare not  missing once in being

People come people go
They dare again going
They felt the beauty
More and they live
Our friends and neighbors
Live in mount’s gossip 
That we play and teasing

Though lucky than them
Still illiterate and stupid

Of all the years!
No body had volunteered
Made policies
that attract sightseer
Only is thought
pouching and smuggling  
I hate this life, full of poverty
On natural richness!

Copyright © Lucas Mkude

Details | Free verse | |

desert's sunset heavens lights

i travel three-and-a-half hours 
for peace of mind 
leave the city dwellers 
worship our Mother Earth's kind 
She takes my breath away 
A trail, I take my hike 
"Who walked this path?" I say 
as dusk draws near 
a dance with the rays 
the sky, the clouds 
amber and red hues 
an a fading blue canvas 
my mind blends in 
top of a ridge 
breathing hard 
sweet smell of sage 
my mind at ease 
one with the earth 
desert's sunset 
heaven's lights 

Copyright © gregory ramos

Details | Free verse | |

I lay sleeping

I lay sleeping with eyes wide open,
I lay sleeping with dreams that have no meaning,
I lay sleeping with nothing to dream about.
I lay sleeping with no care and sleep with eyes blind,
I lay sleeping, there with my eyes wide open.

Seeing the dark change from dark to black.
There is no moon, there is no sky
just purple strokes of paint in the sky.
Take that morning dew smell and close your blind eyes.
Smell the morning, that smell that clicks in your mind.
The smell of childhood dreams,
that as an adult never came true.
Sleeping bare in the nude with your eyes wide open.
Thinking of her, as she is five thousand miles away from you.
Wanting to love and hold her, but no use in crying.
Sleeping their with blind eyes in the dark that dances in the light.

Your lamplight turned down low,
as life trickeles down in its nightgown and yawns for sweet slumber.
Tired from longs days, and sometimes long nights,
wanting to curel in bed and close its blind eyes.
Dusk will soon peek its head through the blinds
and awake life to a new dawn.
She sleeps in the morning, and walks at night.
When he sleeps at night, and walks with a bare nude heart in the morning.

Life climbs over yellow mountains,
and meets her fellow compainion
a handsome fellow with broud shoulders and blessed with an ego
as I sleep there with my eyes wide open.
As I sleep with my eyes blind to what life has intented for me,
and as I raise to walk the lone streets at the break of the dew covered lawn
at the first sweet smells of dawn,
I can see life go on with the handsome man
and I blind and wanting to go to bed.

I dream of dreams that have no meaning
Gardens of cluelessness and raging emotions
tare me down and I am confused on which way to go.
Do I stay here and dream away, blind and half awake
as life slaps me across my broad cheek?
Or shall I walk on with life hand and hand
and regain my vision of the world,
Start to sleep with dreams that make sense
and dreams that are made of gold and have no end?
Dream of fancy dreams that show love and happy endings
I would love that, and I would love to walk with life,
but she is out of my leauge.

And my bed is so cozy and I feel like sleeping.
So I shall sleep on more restless night chashing life down.
I lay sleeping with my eyes wide open.
I lay sleeping with dreams that have no meaning.
I lay sleeping waiting for life to come back from the mountains
and lay beside me.
I lay sleeping with hope of regaining hope and salvage
what is left of my spirit at hand.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski