Poems :: Poetry Essays

PoemsStar-watching The daydream grows handsome As it slips up behind the aspen tree. Warm, night winds rustles the leaves While crosswise the flick gaberdine, pin-point stars spread Earlier, the moon was huge and yellow, Sitting low everyplace the easterly horizon. A refreshing sight after the severe arouse Of the ripe August day. The cold, dampness of the back realm signal Seeps into my body. Grass ends tickle with the cloth of my shirt. It is a good night for star-watching. Red Dust Clouds Dragon-shaped clouds atomic number 18 luxurious gold by the setting sun As it slips towards the flat, westbound bunt of the desert. The sagebrush, lining both sides of the red dirt road, Houses an mix of apprisal insects, Or was it stinging insects. At any rate, Their tracks, a yen with those of fox, coyote, snakes And a wide-ranging assortment of rodents, criss-cross the road. I obliterate them with the toe of my shoe, Kicking up a sm entirely cloud of red dust with each s cuffing step. On rainwater The swirling water runs br accept Spring forever rains River banks atomic number 18 swept low The glitter sun bakes the earth Green leaves turn yellow The rains are long forgotten Fall rains mat dead brown leaves carpet the ground Gray branches pray towards heaven Cold rain becomes falling hundred Drifts cover the creek Spring will melt the ampere-second again. idle Shadows Shining forth from the black sky, a brilliant image, the vehement nervus of the moon, drawing on the snow-covered ground with its light. The shadows on the ground mirror the moons own shadowy shadows. The stark lines make faces on the snow, dark eyes, with white cheeks and lips sparkling. The faces seem to hold a certain brilliance all their own. more than just the tangible night light reflecting in shimmers eat up slopes of snow, It is as if all of the knowledge stored in the moon had passed through moonbeams to embrace in the dark shadows, behind the snows s urface, sparkling. Icy fingers reach surface to my soul, the fingers of snow- shadows. do out of the endless, luminous light from the knowledge of moon-beams and star-beams. Theirs, a brilliant plot, they prehend my eyes, my being, with their own sparkling eyes. They see past my eyes into my innermost soul, where it is dark.Poems Poetry EssaysPoemsStar-watching The moon grows smaller As it slips up behind the aspen tree. Warm, night winds rustles the leaves While across the sky white, pin-point stars spread Earlier, the moon was huge and yellow, Sitting low over the eastern horizon. A refreshing sight after the severe heat Of the late August day. The cold, dampness of the ground Seeps into my body. Grass ends tickle through the fabric of my shirt. It is a good night for star-watching. Red Dust Clouds Dragon-shaped clouds are gilded gold by the setting sun As it slips towards the flat, western edge of the desert. The sagebrush, lining both sides of the red dirt road, Ho uses an assortment of singing insects, Or was it stinging insects. At any rate, Their tracks, along with those of fox, coyote, snakes And a varied assortment of rodents, criss-cross the road. I obliterate them with the toe of my shoe, Kicking up a small cloud of red dust with each scuffing step. On Rain The swirling water runs brown Spring forever rains River banks are swept under The shining sun bakes the earth Green leaves turn yellow The rains are long forgotten Fall rains mat dead brown leaves Carpeting the ground Gray branches pray towards heaven Cold rain becomes falling snow Drifts cover the creek Spring will melt the snow again. Moon Shadows Shining forth from the black sky, a brilliant image, the glowing face of the moon, drawing on the snow-covered ground with its light. The shadows on the ground mirror the moons own dark shadows. The stark lines make faces on the snow, dark eyes, with white cheeks and lips sparkling. The faces seem to hold a certain brilliance all their own. More than just the tangible night light reflecting in shimmers off slopes of snow, It is as if all of the knowledge stored in the moon had passed through moonbeams to hide in the dark shadows, behind the snows surface, sparkling. Icy fingers reach out to my soul, the fingers of snow- shadows. Made out of the endless, luminous light from the knowledge of moon-beams and star-beams. Theirs, a brilliant plot, they capture my eyes, my being, with their own sparkling eyes. They see past my eyes into my innermost soul, where it is dark.