Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Hear this beloved river, in halcyon days
I was loyal to this majestic tree, I am attached,
to the sun I often spoke how loving
the tree is to me, and how eager I too am
to transfer sun's boons to my object of adoration.

Each season did visit us, with a  message
different, and I gathered this with joy:
The tree is a book of nature for all to read
and get exhilarated by the poems colorful
that speak in metaphors the tree invent
with water from  it's heart and sun's fire
working the magic only a tree is capable of
to show us as  flowers, fruits or  seeds that, attract
satiate, drive to the pinnacle of aesthetic delight
at times  create forests of future,with a vision too.

I am just a word, with a limited meaning I hold,
in the book of the tree ,that contains millions like me
my unconditional love to the tree is my fulfillment,
in return he loves every word that make his poem complete.

We were in love all through the time I was green,
the day I wore  yellow, got crinkled at the ends,I began
to think of you, river, with a devotion unknown until then,
though you a silver ribbon, was in my eye view , singing a song
of mirth flowing towards the unknown, imagined in our dreams

Our lives, at turns take directions that are not known
the tree once all I have is now from my world detached
flying down from the branch now a freedom I enjoy
receive me on your bellowing bed of water, comfortable
Let's flow together to the beloved destination,you've in mind.
There once was a time
when I'd defend
those eyes.

Every eye is a chasm of beauty, the entirety of the soul.

That was a year ago.
My perspective has changed,
like the sound of your name.
I'm no longer familiar
with those eyes.

I'm scared.
Falling out of love
Is not always a bad thing.
The very people and principles that we the American people dispise, we now allow to run this country.  It's time for the American people to rise up and make a change!!!
~~¤~~

Sweet kisses like
honey from your lips
Hands tracing the curve of my hips
I am yours forever,  baby
Just tell me,
tell me
you
are mine
With your hugs
Everything will be so fine
Sweet kisses like honey from your lips
Tempting touch by your fingertips...

~~¤~~
Love...
Our poems are fabrics

knit with the dreams inside
laid out in the open
so may a passing eye
grant a glance

a pausing mind
decides for a fleeting moment
to wear

thinking them their own.
Next page