Best Valley Poems

I thought I was a poet who had a pen of gold
With clear access to writing that was mature and bold.
I thought I could go...

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**REFLECTION**

Running through a wheat dream
Clear skies, worms and flies, my face cries
Surrounded by silver streams
I stumbled into a valley where sleepness never dies
A manger on...

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Your time worn hand rests on my shoulder
A gentle firm touch
Ancient fingers stretching awake
And for that moment in time, I receive you
My body marinates in...

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**Every pace change --are the voices of poets sharing his/her Ribbon** 

"PINK LADIES"  
  
The phone rings, 
The clock dings,

I scream, scream, and...

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The mellifluous musical tones of the village bells

Echoing chimes over the cold snowcapped mountains

Both finding their way to people in the valley below

Christmas songs —...

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Whether ocean or mountain with valley green
or every deep forest in between

My love for Nature fills my eyes
With every creature of Earth and sky

The changing...

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In the narrow margin between life and death,
I feel as I'm walking a tightrope - but balancing.
I'm a portrayal of metaphors, 
illuminating like spring's moon,
who...

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This is a very long poem and I will understand if you choose not to spend the time reading it. 
It is something I wrote...

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They hide behind mountains of ignorance, 
judging within a valley of selfish love.
Among weeds where flowers refuse to grow,
to the mercy of hypocrites -

only we...

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I am here now
Presence my companion
Rising I put my two feet
On the ground
I give thanks as I open my eyes
To this new day
A divine delicious...

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A bright array of rainbow hues
      adorns the parchment now and then,
   and gives a glimpse of writer’s...

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FOREVER ADELINE 

Acknowledgement:  
A big thank you Sam Scott from our Poetry Soup Community,
for your splendid narrative contribution.

Synopsis: 
A story of unrequited love that...

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I've never ever seen her face, 
but in my mind, she's the color of love
Black
strong like dark coffee
She wakes you up early in the morning,
gives...

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Four friends and I, one Sunday, take a ride.
our church still closed just short of one full year.
We drive, white almond blooms on either side,
instead....

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Their mere weapon was their forbidden courage, hands barren with  no armaments, no ammunitions, marching towards the proud valley of death, dedication born from...

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