Deep Night For the moon's whisper is a balm to the night, And endless are the stars in the night that floats above. Quiescent is the air, And the world is sleeping careless.
By Bijan Mondalabout a year ago in Poets
Old standing Creaking walls in older houses, In halls have echoes of memories. Dust coat fogged windows, Weathered timber lost with the robbers.
Christmas Softly falls the snowflake, soft and white, The purest blanket in a calm, still night. Lights twinkle on the tree, standing tall, A season of cheer, for one and all.
Blue moon, so ethereal, so unique, A silver light in the night. With shadows thrown, soft but clear, Whispering secrets we cannot hear.
The hidden dark sky tells its tale: ungone, Of storm and wind behind their tongues; Clouds that whisper above drift in grace, And hide from face the forgotten moon's.
Poor Farmer The broad and clear sky under which he toils so simply: He toils in the field with jealous and weary care, by pushing the stubborn clay with the plow, and dreaming of a better day to bring.
Island of Silence A clear quiet is all this sky seething with blue. This is one place not known, but perhaps not always. The waves caress the golden sand, and whisper softly upon it.
Last Night Underneath the dark, deep sky, Silence keeps the secrets of stars. The fleeting wind, a muted sound, Such a big world and we are alone.
The Wee Stream Through fields where wildflowers grow, A silver ribbon winding slow just whispers soft-light-a-dancing moon in light gentle night.
Not a fleeting flame, true love Nor whispers wrapped by passion's name. It endures through the trials of time, A silent song, a steady chime.
blush of dawn; the sky unfolds. Whispers of warmth; soft hues of gold, Perched aloft; a melody stirred: Day begins; the morning bird.
Morning of December The sharp air, the world is silent, Silver frost lays vale and hill. The sky hangs pale and wide, Hues of dawn brave little space on the horizon's side.
