Beneath the canopy, where green meets blue,
Lullaby of the grove sings anew.
Gentle whispers, in the tranquil air,
Crafting melodies, beyond compare.
Dappled sunlight, paints the ground,
A rhythmic dance, nature's sound.
Harmonious echoes, softly call,
Inviting souls, to heed the call.
Moss-covered stones, in silence lay,
Listening to what the trees convey.
Soothing tunes, caress the earth,
Celebrating life, in gentle mirth.
Twinkling stars, join the refrain,
Enhancing the grove's gentle domain.
A symphony of peace, both near and far,
Lullaby of the grove, a radiant star.
In this haven, where dreams intertwine,
Lullaby of the grove, forever divine.
A tranquil embrace, where hearts find rest,
Guided by the grove's loving zest.
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His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstressabout 19 hours ago in Poets
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Happy Pride Month, all! I love Pride Month and everything that comes with it; the celebration, the festivities, the prestige. Pride Month is the ultimate beacon of positivity. Now sadly, there are a bunch of people in society who aren't really crazy about Pride Month and have their things to say against it. To those people, I'll only say this. There's a special place reserved for people who are against Pride Month. I'm too much of a gentleman to say it here, but I'll give a few hints: it rhymes with "bell," and I'm not talking about the city in Michigan.
By Clyde E. Dawkins7 days ago in Pride
Comments (1)
Such a sweet poem.