**Dreamcatcher’s Song** In the quiet of night, when the world is still, Dreams take flight over moonlit hill. They whisper softly in the midnight air, Weaving through stars, dancing without a care.
By Juliusly about a year ago in Poets
How could you stand there in silence after all we have been through? After all these years I spent desperately trying to find you,
By Carol Ann Townendabout a year ago in Poets
if life is as gossamer wings, how carefully I guard this tiny, delicate thing. frightened by my own fragility; avoiding strong winds and bitter storms lest the delicate threads and sheer lace tatter and shred.
By Carmen Heniginabout a year ago in Poets
I am not really a writer. And not really a poet. I just string pretty words together And make countless unfinished worlds.
By Lane Burnsabout a year ago in Poets
Once you find the need to stop and admire sunny trees, you’ll acquire the deed required to protect and breed sacred sanctuaries of honey bees.
By Kale Sinclairabout a year ago in Poets
O martyrs of love… I call you to be witnesses… The passion of my lover has flowed into my blood Do I have the right to ask you?
By Tahany Azzababout a year ago in Poets
We debated the path Staring endlessly Between the options presented, Holding breath Lest we cast a wind In the wrong direction
By Katrina Thornleyabout a year ago in Poets
I rise with the sun, and toil till the night Errands and chores, my endless plight I cook, I clean, I wash, with a sigh
By Emem Iniabout a year ago in Poets
I want to help I want to heal I want to aid I want to avail I want to give I want to learn I want to seek I want to ....burn
By Hannah Alexanderabout a year ago in Poets
If tomorrow starts without me, what will I leave behind? Echoes and memories, Joys and sorrows, Regrets and longings, But I shall feel none of them.
By Alexander McEvoyabout a year ago in Poets
It's in the early hours of the day The latest hours of the night When moments trickle not like moonbeams But like sequins
By Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelleabout a year ago in Poets
On Dreamweaver Ranch, where the sunbeams dance, Lives Mr. Tom, with his grandiose prance. A turkey of splendor, a black Artisan gold,
By Amanda Alexanderabout a year ago in Poets
