And after all the noise
only when your soul settles
does the mournful song of the wind come from your cracked window
yearning
searching for a partner to join its duet
It screeches and howls, then quiets as if it awaits a response
The rain aims to console
Its scattered drops beat a rhythm
It fills in the space left by the silence
For now
The wind resumes its melody
She quiets yet again
My heart beats to the rhythm of the rain
In this stillness, I exhale
A reverberation of her song
But she does not hear me
She lets out another cry
pleading for an answer
Sterling beauty, scintillating green,
The morning's bright.
The pulchritudinous scene,
Let us conserve this, why be mean?
The trees are a sight to see,
They give shade and beauty to you and me.
Birds and squirrels make their homes and hide,
Bunnies and deer live together side by side.
The lunch foils, the banana peel,
Thrown in bins, with green zeal.
Our Mother Earth is clean,
Let us conserve it why be mean?
We follow the 3 Rs rules,
Spreading awareness with our vigorous modules.
We throw our litter in the bin,
Because we know, it is a perishable sin.
Let us plant more trees
Let us not cut them down
Let us be more discreet
Let us not let mother earth frown
Save the lovely greenery.
greenery, greenery.
Save the lovely greenery.
Save it if you please.
"Is this the gate of Heaven?" asked Mary.
"Silly" said Anne, it's only the gate of the park."
As they walked down the glade Mary enquired:
"Who lives in the trees over there?
Look. they're waving at us."
"It's nobody," said Anne, "just the shades
dancing over the grass under the trees."
"Let's climb the mound," said Mary.
"Yes, let's" said Anne.
"Does this hill lead to the sky?" asked Mary.
"Of course it doesn't," snapped Anne.
"If you were big like me, you'd see
the thorns and thistles with purple flowers
on the brow of the hill, you would."
"Are hilly brows like eyebrows?" asked Mary.
"Sort of, ony different," said Anne,
looking very deliberate like Mum sometimes.
Mary ran ahead. "Look!" she cried,
"you can see a piece of the sky
where there's a hole in the ground."
"Silly, that the relegshun of the sky
in the lake," said Anne.
One at the lakeside they saw a swan
swimming gracefully toward them.
"Is it an angel? asked Mary .
Her sister was speechless for a moment.
"It's just lovely," sighed Ann,
who for once dropped her omniscient guard.
silly
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.