Deep Poetry for Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Each of our days has monsters and angels Always against one the other rebels Who we hear is surely our choice Listening in the din that standalone Voice! Life is a canvas we hold the brush It’s our choice we create or crush Colors are in the palette ideas in our mind What the world will see is the painting we leave behind! Short is the life big is endeavor To build in the present to secure future What we do is what our children will get We design destiny we build our fate! Sign in to see full entry.

A northeast wind Whistles under azure skies, Rattling Joshua Tree's, Jumping cacti and The prarie sage, As a ghost moon Paints itself crescent Over the Jalapi Hills. Not enough of a wind To startle the Feeding quail, Nor turn the head Of an errant Horned toad. An old miner's shovel Stands erect In its hardbed grave Of rock and sand, And there is a taste Of Autumn In the air, A taste of change, Of what if's and maybe's. There is a light, Blighted and hazy, That dances in the dark Of the black... Sign in to see full entry.

Phantom fir trees Draped in moss and dew Reach out their Flailing arms into The ambient and moving air, In a daft attempt At solitaire. They whisper and they Sing the breeze, A melody only Sung by trees, While their many fingered Branches fight To reach the fading, Phantom light. Leaves toss and scatter In the rush That winds its breath Through old sedge brush, And sends the buck To frenzied flight, To dissapear into the night. The Ivy sways Within the tide, And the Ghostwood Trembles side by... Sign in to see full entry.

The night and the rain are camoflage, they protect me through the years in the dark you can't see my sorrow in the rain you can't see my tears the wind blows through my loneliness but the sky conveys your lies. I walk through dark and rainy streets but still can't hide from your eyes the downpour goes right through me, I need someplace to hide, you were my closest friend in life, I can't believe that you died. Sign in to see full entry.