The dance of light….
In the twilight the fireflies dance,
Her lips so close to mine…
The shy moon behind the clouds
My heart beating in sync with the twinkling stars
In my heart, in my brain
She’s in my soul, blood and grain
The breeze is cool, heavy and deep
Blowing hair on her face
She moves so gracefully, smiles with ease
This moment forever I seek to freeze
incaunipocrit
alice
blogulise
cella
coltulcumuzica
cristi
diversediversificate
experimentesiexperiente
gabryellehelen
lilip
vania
linkping
mirelapete
peter
theodora0303
roxana
ruxandra
A crack in space….
A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone’s knowledge of himself and the world around him.
–Dylan Thomas
“Look at the stars. They’re the same stars as last week, last year, same as when we were kids. When we weren’t even born. In a hundred years, no one will know who we are, but they’ll know those same stars.” –
you make the room
melt into riverbeds, smoothed stone.
Yes, this must be
how the universe felt
when it first cracked open;
Sky and earth parting as lips
to breathe out trees, mythology,
the first days of fall.
It is mud between your bare toes-
It is raspberries plucked straight from the stem,
and it holds you
like a butterfly to a board,
breathless at its beauty.
rokssana
incaunipocrit
cristi
theodora0303
ivanuska
linkping
lunapatrata
papornitacuvorbe
mirelapete
roxana
teonegura
verovers
zamfirpop
Stargazing…
GLYN MAXWELL
Stargazing
The night is fine and dry. It falls and spreads
the cold sky with a million opposites
that, for a moment, seem like a million souls
and soon, none, and then, for what seems a long time,
one. Then of course it spins. What is better to do
than string out over the infinite dead spaces
the ancient beasts and spearmen of the human
mind, and, if not the real ones, new ones?
But, try making them clear to one you love
whoever is standing by you is one you love
when pinioned by the stars you will find it quite
impossible, but like her more for thinking
she sees that constellation.
After the wave of pain, you will turn to her
and, in an instant, change the universe
to a sky you were glad you came outside to see.
This is the act of all the descended gods
of every age and creed: to weary of all
that never ends, to take a human hand,
and go back into the house.
Veiled in Stardust…
Through the mist she steps,
Golden rings shining on her toes,
Bejeweled fingers gently sweeping the dew away as
they glide in her wake…
“She’s walking on the water again,“ they say.
She’s walking on the water,
She’s plucking the strings, that she is –
She’s pulling them forward,
She’s pushing them away,
Yet how can they resist?
A maiden, a butterfly, a swan?
Veiled in stardust, clothed in clover,
Sweet lips painted as a cherub’s bow,
Her scent mysterious and enveloping,
Calling out your name (don’t bow your head in shame)…
She’s stepping on the stars,
Climbing ever higher, tightening the cord,
Pulling herself up…wings unfurled now.
They are reaching skyward, clinging to her toes –
The rings pull free and they fall,
Mystified as they tumble Earthbound,
Eyes lifted, frozen, trembling as she disappears
Not into the mist, but into the light,
Leaving the bleeding hearts behind
Dreaming the dream they cannot escape.
Stargazing ….
GLYN MAXWELL
Stargazing
The night is fine and dry. It falls and spreads
the cold sky with a million opposites
that, for a moment, seem like a million souls
and soon, none, and then, for what seems a long time,
one. Then of course it spins. What is better to do
than string out over the infinite dead spaces
the ancient beasts and spearmen of the human
mind, and, if not the real ones, new ones?
But, try making them clear to one you love
whoever is standing by you is one you love
when pinioned by the stars you will find it quite
impossible, but like her more for thinking
she sees that constellation.
After the wave of pain, you will turn to her
and, in an instant, change the universe
to a sky you were glad you came outside to see.
This is the act of all the descended gods
of every age and creed: to weary of all
that never ends, to take a human hand,
and go back into the house.
Electric blue…
Starlight Night
We lay hand in hand, head to head, eye to eye
The stars staring down, as if they were in envy
The moon radiating light upon us, as if it we were a showcase
The passion which was united, a passion of true love
Passion which wrote upon paper, can never portray my passion for you
True passion is like a song, A never ending list of cords and notes
An innovation of a creative mind, written from the soul and heart
A never ending canvas of joys and memories
True passion can never die, it can never fade away, for it lies deep down
You are my true passion, my true calling, my true love
Michael James Kennedy Findlay
androxa 