Tag: poetry

Purest Bliss

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The sun poured into my window like a flowing stream

Its colors of orange and yellow bursting with gleam

I arose differently that day, as if I were on a cloud

No dark storm or aching pain could ever overcrowd

I swooped up the lace dress draped with jewels

Twirling and dancing as my feet hit against the toole

This day had finally come, the day I have dreamt

The man I was about to marry, who will forever bring my heart content

My life changing for the better, my heart at the fullest

My friend, my husband, my love of the purest bliss

 

Stars.

melrose🌹1 Comment

The sky lights up the world,
Twinkling with lights that dance for me.
I lay here, on this forest green meadow; surrounded by the chirping of crickets and light bugs.
I just keep my eyes set on the arrangement of the night.

All I can think of is you.
The way your smile makes my insides ignite like an orange flame. Your gentle touch upon my skin is always comforting.

I look up at the sky and see an array of constellations. Each star burning millions of miles away, but yet the imagery is all to amazing. Just how your soft, emerald eyes looked into mine, beaming with color and life.

The stars I gaze upon remind me that each one is made differently. But when brought together, the creation that is made is what matters most. The night painting I am always so fascinated to see reminds me that even when their is darkness, there is always light. I just have to seek it. That is why I will always seek you in the darkness, My Star.

Tree

melrose🌹Leave a comment

I am a tree
Standing still on top of hills. As they produce fresh soil for my viens and pump life into my being. My branches sprout high into the bright blue skies. I produce many things
Food for the nature, a shelter for the blistering weathers. I create an awe for passing travelers as my leaves burst into an pulchritude of colour.
I am a tree
I do not move. Only when the winds whisper sweet melodies into my limbs, making me dance to their interesting, cavort manner. Or when i am on the verge of death and the rain purifies me with its kiss of refreshment.
I am a tree
Taken advantage of. Being killed off, chopped to pieces by sharp axes of evil, and flattened by gruesome machinery.
I am no longer a tree, I am what you call a stump. No longer do i produce branches for life or sprout new leaves to attract visitors with my radiant colours. I am merely a helpless stump, longing for the life that has been taken from me.