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A sky of red, with trees there – it to hide,
And winds of might blow round me all the night;
This is the nature in which I reside –
The natural feeling gives me most delight.
To stand behind a window and to feel
The winds of joy blow through a frame of bliss
Is more that one believes today is real,
Just listening to the wind’s most silent kiss.
One cannot try to state the pleasure nightly
Felt by those whose deep sense of awe is there,
When you are bound to nature and so tightly
With your eyes at silent night you stare.
While friends of mine don’t see the nightly world
Of tender, calm sensations; idle acts;
My motions and emotions are all swirled,
And mystify the world, obscuring facts –
Then I can see the worth of life, its sake,
The actual euphoria and joy:
Conventionalities, watching them break,
As if the horse had never entered Troy.
You are united with yourself once more,
When sensing chill of winds rise up your back,
You know, though, that in this state there’s no gore,
For harmony you have and will not lack.
Remember that the night’s a home for this,
And day will make this vanquish down to nought;
Remember now the wind’s soft, subtle hiss,
And let your idle dreams come from this thought.

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Posts: 358 | Registered: May 2005  |  IP: Logged | 

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Conventionalities, watching them break,
As if the horse had never entered Troy.

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Posts: 37449 | Registered: May 1999  |  IP: Logged | 

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I personally would rather see a poem that sacrifices rhyme for good meter and coherent sentences

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remember my warnings about Yoda syndrome

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Conventionalities, watching them break,

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Posts: 358 | Registered: May 2005  |  IP: Logged |