Long Naturehouse Poems
Long Naturehouse Poems. Below are the most popular long Naturehouse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Naturehouse poems by poem length and keyword.
Evening tiptoes away on slippered feet
Houses up and down the street are silhouettes
The faint sound of a train whistles through the air
leaving a melancholy soliloquy resounding through the night
A table cleared of all traces of supper, is now set for breakfast
Doors are locked, and a screen has been put across the glowing embers
The two Labradors, in deep slumber, are curled in baskets by the back door
The house settles, like arthritic old bones
and the momentum of a busy day winds itself down
Beyond the kitchen door, a garden is washed white by the moonlight
A mantel clock is ticking, and the refrigerator is humming with comfortable familiarity
The moon slowly makes a shadowy passage
through the windows of each room
as it puts the house to bed...
I quietly head up the stairs, reluctant to let these parting moments slip away
Crawling between the cool sheets, I snuggle my head on the softness of my good fortune
In the long silent moments before I fall asleep
my drowsy eyes turn to wander
where window gazing finds the harvest moon
rifting in the darkness...
Against the moonlight, a magnolia branch is stenciled black and keen
Three stars are tangled in the topmost bough...
My eyes and I say goodnight to the moon....
and thank you to the stars.....
And today becomes tomorrow....
Electriconic connection
On a melting world
And my pain has completely lost her voice
Pajamas up since seven on the sofa now eleven
Where in abundance we can shiver the leaves and have our heads shake things out
Quarreling lovers are burrowing mothers are sorrowful daughters all terrible fathers we are
Pajama thirty now on the eleven-spot now “Zap-2-it” on-screen
I say all this because I love you and me though it's only because you love me that I love me
and know what love means
Can I paint broader strokes stepping out of the window of the house I am painting? Paint,
paint the colors of the paint?
Where were you when you were born: in a house or in a womb? On your mother or on the
ground?
Prefaces like precipices make modern living monolithic and rained on. Like how the flowers
need it.
I’m standing behind you now with your permission.
Hanging bow hanging bow
Bow bow bow
Hang bow hang
Let the rain wash the soiling regret
Make blood fill the veins of our roots
Blooming bloom blooming
Blooming asunder