Best Wing It Poems

The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and...

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I wonder about her
as I shave suet and place thistle seed down -

once again

she reveals herself to the corner of my eye
a slight movement caught...

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I am a wave.
From far I come to you
Swimming with desire.
In wild curls I come,
Riding with music,
Travelling on sunbeams.

Within my hidden folds,
I carry the thoughts...

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Apple cheeked autumn eyes bashful skies, as

Yellow frocked summer says her goodbyes to fragrant
Earth's seeded spring, to wild bouquets
Arranged by careless care, for the
Roses and...

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“Air becomes wind when it’s agitated.” Lucretius

“Thank you for joining me in the studio today,” Mr. Zephyr. 
“Glad to be here, Bob. Thank you for...

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*Note 
I had to bring this one back, though I've been posting mostly new writes here that PS hasn't seen before. This poem has been...

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~
My thirst now deep ~ I long to quench
to sip this periwinkle wine
In goblets cut of harvest moons
impassioned pleas now cast of time

Tender kisses ~...

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How long will I love you, often you ask
Forever and a day, my love will last
Till there’s no blossom or leaves upon trees
Or pretty daffodils...

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Each element of who she is, is scattered on the grass, 
with the scent of earth, the drop of rain, 
where dew reflects a sky...

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We push the pen to make you feel
the gentle tapping of the falling rain,
the stinging burn of the summer sun
the heavy heart of despair and...

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My precious chimney swift
Envy alone
Has named you so mundane
Tethered to the slightest pause
Amid your life upon the wing
Describing you as drab
Cigar shaped
And flying like a...

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I tracked along a silver trail
carved out from Earthly dust
by rays persistent in the dark 
and midnight wanderlust.

It led me to a bubbling fount
of sulfurous...

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Yes, he broke my heart, but not the usual way
With tender words, he made my poor heart sway
Each chamber beamed with his adoring smile
That chased...

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Poe's darkness calls to such as I, an ember,
a velvet covered wing chair's grasp on dark nights.
I seek the maudlin moan of his December
to nurse...

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Had I known love, flowers would have bloomed in Spring
I would have danced when hearing whippoorwills sing
But in my heart no seeds of love were...

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