Some say
opportunity’s squandered
as you roam and wander
I say
make the most of each stride
takes just one to turn the tide
Sea wanders 'neath pink skies,
so green, like restless young.
Scarlet birds are flying
somewhere near orange sun,
soon itself to turn mauve.
Such is way of the world.
Seems purple stars search, too.
in darkness you roam
finding comfort behind stars
leaving in morning
Walking all night
Upon the wave-kissed sands of the seashore,
Beneath the twinkling stars,
Through the silvery aerial veil
Of a waning moon,
Until the sun began to rise
From the lap of distant crimson waves,
Ascending
Into the enchanted sky,
Strewn with purple clouds.
The ocean halts,
Transforming into a mirror
To reflect the colours of dawn
Across its wine-red waves
The sun becomes a pupil
Within the indigo eye of dawn.
The sea seems like a lower lash,
The sky the upper one,
Adorned with scattered hued clouds.
Sublime!
Perhaps a glimpse of the Big Bang...
Or a corner of Heaven...
Eternity in every moment...!!
The random times of fun,
of which I cannot run.
The most beautiful joy,
That make the teachers annoy.
Eating lunch during class,
Breaking windows made of glass.
Careless of the school rules,
Roaming making the teachers fool.
Such of free person was I,
Thinking of it I wanna cry.
I am ransacking for those days,
No matter what may it pays.
Those days were much fine,
Because in the end they were mine.
delicate as a whisper in the night
AP: 1st place 2025
Inkblot animals
migrating across the sky
tirelessly roaming
Flow of warm drops from my eyes in winters,
Might be a sign that my eyes are drying.
If love is a sin, I'm among sinners,
Might be a sign that it's alone crying.
My mistake was to dive into her eyes,
And there is no way to go back to death.
I confirmed my death in the sea of lies,
No more drowning and no hustle for breath.
A normal life was not enough for me,
So, conferred my soul to love and romance.
A mad man imaging story with thee,
So there does not remain any regrance.
When my eyes are red and sky is all black,
Then there is no chance of moon going back.
In NYC where cardboard boxes and bums come from
In the comfort of his brown paper home
The smelly old man sleeps on a concrete ground of cold
Snores alone like a train in heat
Unaware of his left eye detaching to leave
A vacancy sign behind the socket is left, not worth reading
An eye rolling down the highway is strange
Pretending to be a traffic signal is suspicious
Blinking green then yellow is clearly disgusting
Disguised in red makes it downright criminal
Obscene and not very nice indeed
Children want to play marbles
The eye is wiser than you think
Seeing everything through a glass darkly
As it rolls away smartly unseen
I like roaming thrift stores
full of worthless things
lost treasures that I can hold
within my hands and mind
capturing a time gone
for a pretty hand painted cup
a collectible or a relic from the past
I love the old dishes
what stories they could tell
I imagine their history
oh, I could write a poem about old dishes
things from times long passed
inspire me to hold a treasure for a moment
I do not have to own it
to capture it with my thoughts and pen
but oh dear the vintage jewelry is my weakness
how can I touch it with my hand
and not own it, how, and I always wonder who did
a visit to the thrift store is quite inspiring
but I best write it down because it is fleeting
They have been waiting for Halloween,
for when the dead, zombies and such can be seen;
some walk oddly- and to one side they careen,
their decaying bones a disturbing moss green !
And here come the vampires to walk with us,
sometimes, these blood suckers even take the bus;
they serve no real purpose- quite useless and superfluous,
I am not afraid of them cause' I am no wuss !
I have seen skeletons walking with rags tattered,
some missing bones and looking battered;
they do not stay together but quickly are scattered,
they are spotted with dirt and mud splattered !
They all walk among us, the living, in the moonlight,
people look at them and run away at the sight;
but, Halloween night is their sublime delight,
roaming till dawn- then gone till next Halloween night !
roaming tabletop
persian’s taste for dainty things
the french-pressed coffee
soft black fur prowling tea cups
be careful kitty, it’s hot
I hear a rustling in the leaves
As the wind huffs and heaves
A storm is coming ever near
A rustling in the leaves I hear
Gray clouds roam across the sky
Some leaves swirl up on high
Thunder rumbles in the dome
Across the sky gray clouds roam
The rain will fall for a while
And make the land more fertile
Flowers seem to love it all
For a while the rain will fall
A rainbow shows its many hues
As the sky regains its blues
A pot of gold are at the end of those
Its many hues a rainbow shows
9-7-2022
The Chalice of Night pours dark on the stair
drops of shadows that don't belong there.
Echoes of footsteps--do they signal harm?
Whispers in bushes that push our alarm.
We know spirits like to do their roaming
in quiet darkness or amid murky gloaming.
We feel their breath as it tickles our ear;
murmuring softly, they arouse more fear.
Walking alone on a deserted lane
in dark night, footfalls I cannot explain.
Is that just a bush, or something unknown?
can it be paper, or a silk kerchief shown?
Reading alone by mere lamp flame,
I hear someone whisper my name.
A step on the stair, a brush of air,
I wonder if Night is creeping in there.
At night, it's best to sit outside by fire,
gaze at stars' wonder to our heart's desire.
Release our dark fears to nightfall instead,
and leave expired mortals entirely dead!
January 19, 2022
In the darkened twilight
My thoughts roam.
Even tho i bleed the same color,
Cry the same salty tears,
my appearance to some is different,
And yet, thought of as less than....
Educated by the same system,
Speaking the same language,
And yet, you still don't hear me.
With naked eyes, I see clearly,
As your blinders make you believe
You see all..... You know all;
Your politics
Your religion
Your social status,
And yet,
can you tell me in your knowing,
What it is to be truly human ?
What it is to be truly civilized ?
Does your religion explain any of that,
Does your politics tell you what to believe ?
In the darkened twilight
My thoughts roam,
As I work myself back home....
Sub Categories
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.