Short Skylights Poems
Short Skylights Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Skylights by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Skylights by length and keyword.
twilight glances mid
horizon dances sunrise
peek a boos skylights
1/24/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
rain hitting skylights
late at night
open the window
breathe in the smell
a soothing sound
that lulls me to sleep
heaven's way of washing
everything clean
Lights
Night's torch
Northern shine
Aurora's glow
Bright
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Me and Abe Lopez did a lanterne on an awesome image of Aurora lights..................
Eyes like a clear lake,
reflections of a dreamland,
skylights for two hearts.
Walking amidst the cloud tops,
the light brightens up their day.
Edward J. Ebbs - March 15, 2015
Written for a Contest, TANKA 2
I want to describe
The stars as shimmering skylights
The wind as a strong breeze
Of an ocean's freedom
Butterfly's slow flight
For the sun's love
Silently darkened starry night
At an ocean's calm shore
A fisherman who has found
Safe harbor before a strike of a storm
Mother's loving touch
Of child's silky hair
I want to describe
Power and love of God.
I see from my window
rain falling again.
I've woken to another
moist summer day.
I hear the pitter pattter
on my skylights above.
Softly at first then
louder like a drum.
I feel the rain on my skin.
I just let it flow.
As I step out to my garden
and rose bushes below.
I touch their wet petals.
The raindrops roll
into my open palm.
Into my soul.
Rain here is different.
Falls softly on your skin.
More like gentle kisses.
No need to go back in.
The twigs of March drip,
and dangle ~ late in the day birdsong returns.
Pinched veins leach through uncurling buds,
sap thickens needle
frond and stalk.
Earthworms form oracle rings,
that rise up
from the mud to nurse the wet soil.
Iron skies shuffle their skylights.
fermenting airs soften murk
to tepid mists.
Above the hedgerows
a gloom is burying its ghosts,
At last, heedful wombs
are stirring under thicket,
berm and windbreak.
For you
I am walking on rocks
holding unburnt match sticks,
you want me to throw them
behind me.
To step down in lake
for washing sins
from the snuffed out
skylights.
Between green and blue I climb on leaves.
Remained pygmies
till end,
in frail human relationships.
All that we saw, was only for ourselves
in questions and replies.
Wasting shine of titles,
followed by empty looks.
Nothing remained to be said.
Food was left on the plate
untouched.
SATISH VERMA