From the city heights, I look down on the James River, I see the Christmas lights, The city will come alive, This time of night,
By April Denise Stuartabout a year ago in Poets
Beneath the sky of twilight’s hue, The forest sleeps in silver blue. Its branches bow with snowy grace, A crystal crown for nature’s face.
By Luciaabout a year ago in Poets
Icy lover, Let my tongue tip stick. Can we adhere? Your blue moue. Cerulean craquelure. Skis kiss. Lips lisp. Raw warm maw.
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Poets
A wreath on the door, but no cheer in the heart, the one who was jolly did sadly depart. All I ask for Christmas, Santa,
By Isla Griswaldabout a year ago in Poets
sweet warm vanilla perfumes the rustic kitchen treats are being baked.
By Daphsamabout a year ago in Poets
Introduction Normally my thoughtpieces are freeform poetry or text but this is a compact pantoum to hopefully, capture the beauty and peacefulness of snow falling.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Poets
Dear Santa, I don't want much this year. Maybe a true friend or two. Someone who won't disappear. Dear Santa, If it's not asking too much, could you send me some hugs, it's been a long time since I was touched.
By ᔕᗩᗰ ᕼᗩᖇTYabout a year ago in Poets
Merry Christmas to the one I never thought I'd meet Oh how we fell in love in the Bangkok heat You looked so radiant and offered me a seat I was so nervous I couldn't stop my shaking feet
By Matthew Mccaheyabout a year ago in Poets
Isn’t it cruel My stomach’s empty But my head is full Full of foolish ideas Of freedom Of peace We’re all out here Just trying to get a piece
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
This season can catch me by surprise As tinsel tears fill up my eyes Unwrapping thoughts of past goodbyes Adorning the tree with ties that bind
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a year ago in Poets
During this season I always love these kinda days. Oh holy night I’m so in love with this holidaze. This is my kinda craze and I really don’t wanna miss this.
By Joe Pattersonabout a year ago in Poets
A bead of water slowly slides down a glistening icicle, melting in the sunshine after a frosty night. Drip, drip, drip go the gutters.
