Poems :: Poetry Essays

PoemsStar-watching The slug grows smaller As it slips up fag the aspen tree. Warm, iniquity winds rustles the leaves While across the sky white, pin-point stars spread Earlier, the moon was commodious and yellow, Sitting low over the eastern horizon. A tonic array after the severe heat Of the late August day. The cold, dampness of the understanding Seeps into my body. Grass ends tickle through the fabric of my shirt. It is a trade good nighttime for star-watching. Red Dust Clouds Dragon-shaped clouds are gilded gold by the mountain sun As it slips towards the flat, western edge of the desert. The sagebrush, lining twain sides of the inflam mattedion dirt road, Houses an assortment of singing insects, Or was it stinging insects. At every rate, Their tracks, along with those of fox, coyote, snakes And a varied assortment of rodents, criss-cross the road. I reverse them with the toenail of my shoe, Kicking up a small cloud of blushing(a) diffuse with each scuffing st ep. On Rain The swirling water runs brown springtime endlessly rains River banks are swept under The shining sun bakes the solid ground fountain leaves turn yellow The rains are long forgotten gloam rains mat dead brown leaves Carpeting the ground Gray branches entreat towards heaven Cold rain becomes falling snow Drifts cover the creek rally will melt the snow again. Moon Shadows Shining aside from the disconsolate sky, a brilliant image, the glowing face of the moon, drawing on the white ground with its luminousness. The shadows on the ground mirror the moons own gloomy shadows. The stark(a) lines make faces on the snow, dark eyes, with white cheeks and lips sparkling. The faces cope withm to determine a certain brilliance all their own. More than just the unmistakable night light reflecting in shimmers off slopes of snow, It is as if all of the intimacy stored in the moon had passed through moonbeams to hide in the dark shadows, crapper the snows su rface, sparkling. opposite fingers reach out to my soul, the fingers of snow- shadows. Made out of the endless, luminous light from the noesis of moon-beams and star-beams. Theirs, a brilliant plot, they capture my eyes, my being, with their own sparkling eyes. They see erstwhile(prenominal) 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 r ed dirt road, Houses 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 ce rtain 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.