A woman kneads dough for cakes.
She is sad and weary of life...
Into every piece, she mixes both a little anger
and joy – for herself, for the children, for her man.
She holds nothing back from life.
When the cakes are baked,
the anger fades away
and only the aroma of joy remains...
You still cherish
that rag doll from your childhood.
As if you never grew up.
When you change the water in the vase,
lightly stroking the lily stems,
I am moved…
You always bloom when surrounded by flowers.
And when we lie side by side
for eternity, half-immersed in sadness,
it seems to me that life is not to be taken
too seriously.
It’s Sunday –
a snow-dreamy morning…
The mad, embroidered Moon hangs
on the cloth of the sky.
Amidst a barren land I see
a speak-burning tree.
I am so dispirited.
By the roadside chapel, a small boy listens
to the deaf-mute woman…
through touch.
You are my Seine...
unchanging through winter and summer.
You are my wise Amu Darya, knowing
both the desert’s heat and the melting ice.
You are my faithful Ganges – a river of lotuses
and burning pyres.
You are my gleaming Yangtze from the land of ginseng.
You are my wild, swirling Ucayali…
You are my wistful Mississippi,
drawing me ever closer to the sea.
I am but a raft swaying on the waves of your dreams.
I drift downstream, past islands of solitude,
to cast anchor in the harbor of your
Passion…
A most distant sun
Blesses light on our union
As we feint through life.
Sometimes I feel
as if my soul hung by a slender thread
of my mother’s raven-black hair.
I remember…
her breasts beneath a floral blouse,
secretly reading the forbidden novel, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame,
with a flashlight under the blanket,
and the worn figurine of a Japanese geisha
father used to stroke from time to time.
Even in old age, I like to curl up in bed,
as I did in the womb before birth.
And wearing my mother’s stretched-out violet sweater,
I never feel lonely.
I was awakened
by a kookaburra’s screams
a crackling bushfire…
this parched yet amazing land
is forever in my dreams
a fragile bright thread
woven through the darkest night~
light that dispels dread
soft whisper of dawn
chasing shadows from the soul~
sunshine on the lawn
seed beneath the frost
waiting for the gentle thaw~
life will not be lost
tear begins to dry,
a quiet strength starts to grow~
shine anew in sky
sunbeam on the path,
melting away winter's grip~
greens in aftermath
a gentle warm breeze,
carrying a hopeful song~
worries start to ease
rainbow after storm,
colours painting skies anew~
peace begins to form
distant star's soft gleam
promising a warmer shore~
life`s journey still beams.
I don't like her
Not hate, I just know I could be better
Obsidian hair falls over her face
Perfectly
Why not me?
When will I be lucky?
Today he is wearing burgundy
His raspy voice tickles so good
Oh! Look...
She is dancing on him
Her existence makes mine so dim
I don't like her
My bag is heavy today
A little shopping you know
Strayed into his set yesterday
I don't know how
We were just meant to be
His cologne smells so good
And no, I am not a creep
It was laying around
I will keep it safe and sound
His vest smells heavenly! Did I tell you that?
Cigarette butt
Whisky glass
Vintage hat
That belt forged from brass...
I can still taste his essence
Don't worry I just put out his cigarette
Protect the environment I guess
Mrs. Jagger
Makes me kick my feet
Reminiscing future memories
Breakfast in bed
I would give him total servitude
Surely my tarot readings are true
Luck is for the chosen few
I work hard just to...
To be in the same room
And her
He is in my stars
But am I in his?
Do you think I'm crazy?
Longing flickers like a spell
loose in the dark...
a small, bright predator
pursuing the shape of you.
You appear where reality thins,
a shimmer of mist,
a spirit wearing light.
Desire opens its hidden door
and the door becomes sky.
I reach,
and my reach turns luminous,
a quiet magic
that conjures your presence
from memory,
from myth,
from the soft ache
that knows your potency.
Here,
in the enchantment between worlds,
you rise...
a mirage,
a star,
a dream
I can almost touch.
twilight is falling
on the river of Desire
I’m dreaming in vain…
young love never comes to me
by a silent lonely lane
I’m fascinated
by all elephant wisdom
watching a movie
they walked through a hotel hall
as quietly as the ghosts...
pain imprisons me
in the tightest straitjacket
again sleepless night...
I call upon the angels
to help me in endless fight
In a room without walls,
stars lie scattered across a long workbench,
each one dimmed in a different way~
some cracked at the edges,
some holding a faint pulse
like a memory trying to stay lit.
Tools hang from nothing:
a hammer made of cooled starlight,
a spool of night threaded with silence,
a brush that leaves a trail
only the dark can read.
Someone
or something shaped like someone~
leans over a fractured constellation,
turning it slowly in their hands
as though checking where the story failed.
A soft sound rises,
not quite sorrow,
more like the sigh a myth makes
when it realizes it can’t return
to the shape it once held.
Pieces of old legends
glow on the floor,
still warm from the moment
they fell out of belief.
A wing, a vow,
a name that used to matter~
all waiting to be reassembled
into whatever truth remains.
And in the far corner,
a single star brightens,
not repaired,
not restored,
just choosing to shine
despite the fracture
running through its center.
moonlight falls
silent on snow
frozen towering wild turns its face to ancient sea
the ocean, brooding, darkly gazes back
waves crash on rock
ink upon the shore
beneath the endless starry surface
a world of light and wonder
fall and float among the luminescence
down
down
the kingdom of giants wide awake
among deep time and eons
majestic sirens of the fathoms
call to their kin across the stars
Titan, Ceres, Europa, Earth
sisters, cetaceans, sing
Antarctic abyss keeps its secrets
hidden since creation
epoch after epoch
as it was in the beginning
is now
and ever shall be... until
we meet amongst the midnight
in distant days ahead
Star Categories
Read wonderful star poetry on the following sub-topics:
beautiful, christmas, crossed, death, easter, funeral, her, him, love, moon, romantic, shining, shooting, trek, twinkle, wars
and more.
Definition | What is Star in Poetry?
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.
Related Poetry Forms
major, dominant, leading, celebrated, chief, capital, main, principal, brilliant, outstanding, paramount, predominant, preeminent, prominent, talented, well known, hero, name, celebrity, favorite, idol, luminary, draw, lead, superstar, starlet, headliner, leading role, topliner,