When the wind whistles,
silent sentinels,
shading thick thistles,
softly sway to the beat
Their coat of arms,
protects from harm,
the forest fauna's charm,
that rises from the heat
For they find no shade,
in forest glade, tho know,
they rise from Heaven's glow,
then they bow and retreat
They can't disguise,
under watchful eyes,
the true prize, proudly lies,
where the air is so sweet
The mystic eyes of Megan , not sad!
paint life in in blue in blue and grey,
no sunlight breaks through my cloudy day;
our footprints are erased
by a drifting breeze that
even dissolves the thoughts
we wrote on the sand tune
with childish joy and delight,
while we hummed a tune,
feeling mellow, not sad!
We resemble dry leaves falling from
a shading tree branch,
standing over the quite ranch;
does anyone catch them
to remind us of Autumn,
and comfort the goldfinch
waiting for her three days in vain:,
he has lost his soulmate.
Don't run from me again,
don't be more cruel than fate!
The mystic eyes of Megan paint life in blue and grey,
ditch your useless monotony, brighten your day;
I have been patient enough
to take what I don't deserve.
I have been too kind, I often laugh,
hiding my anger I like to unnerve!
I'm that lover who satisfies all desires,
be forever true, never cheat on me;
this beautiful thing that thrills us
is simply called love, honey.
no woman has ever told me lies:
I love endlessly, I expect sincerity!
,
The flock of birds that leisurely ride
The soft wind that gazing to your mind
The heavenly glow of red that pride
Witnessing the departure of its kind.
The blue shrine for the loved
The clean crystal that shined
The clear water that waved
Into your awful good mind.
We looked far beyond the earth
We searched across the heaven
We sought through the widest girth
Until we found what we were given.
The fading fogs of life
The shading parts of soul
The evading piece of strife
Invading me the foul.
Yes, I'm the one
Who yelled for the dawn
Yet does the dusk
Yawn and I'm gone.
The flock of birds that leisurely ride
The soft wind that gazing to your mind
The heavenly glow of red that pride
Witnessing the departure of its kind.
The blue shrine for the loved
The clean crystal that shined
The clear water that waved
Into your awful good mind.
We looked far beyond the earth
We searched across the heaven
We sought through the widest girth
Until we found what we were given.
The fading fogs of life
The shading parts of soul
The evading piece of strife
Invading me the foul.
Yes, I'm the one
Who yelled for the dawn
Yet does the dusk
Yawn and I'm gone.
A poem written just for fun and just because I ran out of ideas....
Squirrel-in-resting-mode sprawls out beneath a lazy sky,
his floppy sunhat shading half his face.
He’s ditched his headphones—no more woodland hi-fi~
Squirrel-in-resting-mode sprawls out beneath a lazy sky.
He listens to the breeze go drifting by,
lets chirps and mountain hush fill the open space.
Squirrel-in-resting-mode sprawls out beneath a lazy sky,
his floppy sunhat shading half his face.
*this is by primary school me, AKA 9-11 yr old me?
The serene crystal clear water,
Watching, waiting,
Calm placid waves lap up against sandy shores,
Playful dolphins leaped up from tranquil water posing for the sun,
As light pierced through peaceful water,
Like a diamond worth millions,
The graceful mysterious stingray,
So beautiful but so deadly,
Camouflaged below the shallow water,
Moving so elegantly through the sea,
Like a butterfly,
Shading into the sand beneath the ocean,
The venomous tail of the stingray,
Raging fiercely onto its prey,
Poisoning its target,
Oblivious of what happens on the sea bed,
Lapis blue water turns blood red.
The beautiful stingray,
Hovered over the coral like a UFO gliding across a moonless night,
Filling its prey to the brim of fright,
As it swiftly drifted across the water.
I have never wrote a sonnet in my life
fourteen lines of iambic confusion
I’m not as poetically gifted
as Shakespeare or Petrarch
because pentameters and quatrains
are perfectly not my style
and too flat out antiquated for my liking
It’s rhyme schemes
always oppress me
line after line
stanza after stanza
as if I’m never allowed
to journey beyond
the black lines
while shading a picture
inside of a child’s coloring book
with a box of Crayola crayons
Cotton soft billows levitate high
Stretch across the azure canvas
Blending, shading, images transform
Swirls, whirls of feathery white
Shoved together with a breath of wind
Stirring a recipe of splendor
A dragon, an eagle all in an instant
Mysterious is the artist unique indeed
Cloud art speaks with a heavenly presence
Little Oreo is nine months
Already planning his embroidered wall hanging
He’s so lovely he smashes the house,lol
I think he knows he’s spoiled
Can’t quite work his colouring out
Needs to be applied before I make judgement
He’s got a black fur on his face
No distinguishing markings but under his chin
Only white whiskers will make it stand out
And some clever shading.
Little Professor Oreo Double Cream Theodore Esquire.
There, the wooden beam stood
A conceptional use of wood
A burnished dark brown colored stain
Embellished the natural grain
Bracing the ceiling from the floor
Another piece our oaken door
Was this the use god meant you for
Aside shading hill, mead and moor
And blushing with the colours of autumn and spring
Scarcely now we see you were a living thing
Or at least a part
Of a work of art
That held our mortal eye
Attuned with earth and sky
Please, a silent moment for my soul in mourning
While they cradle the warblers bedight the morning
So sorry that I could not have more cherished thee
Only now realizing the scope of your tragedy
I realized being too nice doesn't pay,
I have ended up being used,
am now shading my skin,
if i behave in a way you don’t understand,
just know I realized all times I was taken advantage of
and now like dust I will rise.
being nice is not being weak,
it's not being afraid,
and it's not being pathetic,
it's strength to carry someone else burden.
let me now travel on the road I never took I see the difference it will make.
While the Sun was winking at the Green planet...
Seven colors cavorting in May
Winds swayed, lulled and clasped clouds like hay
Colors above clouds tilted and frolic
As Winds soared, fly o'er North Atlantic.
Seven shades that waft under shimmy skies
Shading trees and lagoons like brumed pies
Colored blades enamoured by nature's wonders
Inlying blessed planet, emitting in numbers.
Clouds flair, tireless of its athletic heels
Swirling in air, running like spinning wheels
Reels and Winds giggled at Clouds' cycles
Clouds gasped and wept with flaming icicles...
Pollock by night
drunk with hazed madness--
shading moon yellow
I stand tall and green, shading, like an umbrella,
Towering over the gray shingle roofs of my neighborhood.
And evergreen I am called; I stay green all year round.
My leaves never turn golden and russet colors
That float down and gather among the emerald-green grass.
Only my fallen acorns that lie scattered are gathered
By the squirrels that scurry around.
My leaves dance when the exhalation breath waltzes around
And tickles my fancy. At night, the mockingbirds perch
Among my limbs and serenade me to sleep.
Tassels of beads light my garment
as tropical air fondles my skin
content in the ripened grace
of my arms and round, orange fruitage,
shading men from rainfall and sun.
I nestle on the ground, hair basking
in May's glint...my guava pulp exploding
from Asian roots born of clay, and I,
in copper- like pose, become maiden
of woods, ever- rich... and evergreen.
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