vintage
Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
Crazy Hair
Miss crazy hair Why do you ask why I stare I’m always looking at the beauty Beneath that crazy hair Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
Night Sighs
Under the night cloak, where the shadows dance, Sighs echo in the breeze, like a lament. The moon, silent witness to forbidden romance, Uncover secrets in the night’s sighs. In the sky, stars blink like curious eyes, Lurking love and hidden pain. Nightly sighs, sorrows of lost souls, They sing a dark tale in the pages of fate. The wind whispers secrets in ancient trees, Mystical witnesses of what time does not forget. In the gloom, murmurs of buried passions, They walk the corridors of oblivion. In empty streets, where silence is king, Night sighs reveal endless stories. Loves that are gone, leaving only echoes, Marks on the soul, like tattoos of darkness. O night sighs, tunes of the unknown, Fate was woven into the webs of the past. Nights veil secrets, as guardians of longing, On the stage of darkness, where love is staged. So under the starry vault of infinity, Night sighs echo, perpetuating the charm. Between dreams and shadows, poetry intertwines, In the eternal dance of the night, where the mystery advances.
By Eduarda Rodrigues3 years ago in Poets
Crow Song
In a dark corner, where the night nestles, The echo of the crows echoes, sinister and alone. Under the cloak of darkness, their cries resound, In the crow song, the mystery sings. The black wings cut through the night sky, Feather circles, a taciturn dance. In the landscape of death, your destiny is traced, In the crow’s corner, the secret is kept. Burning eyes, like embers burning, They watch the earth, where shadows lurk. Among dark trees, secrets whisper, In the crow song, the stories are refined. On bare branches, their hidden perches, Guardians of the night, in flight consultos. A deep lament, a song of sorrow, In the crow song, the past echoing. In fields of mourning, where sorrow is woven, The crows proclaim what death has brought them. The dire melody, an endless poem, In the crow song, the soul is extinguished. Then, in the gloom, where darkness lies, The crow song echoes, sad, perfect. Between shadows and mysteries, the night reveals itself, In the crow song, poetry unravels.
By Eduarda Rodrigues3 years ago in Poets
