Learn more about other poetry terms
holy fever from heavens light you are a child of the cosmos and ruler of the skies they will cower before you and you will teach them what fear truly is
In the meanderings of my backyard, I set a glass of ice water on the muddled glass table Spreckled with rainspots and a splinch more than the grain of salt I asked for.
There are things impossible, things unseen In the darknesses between each sunbeam, Nameless shadows, and wordless paths Spun together in covering laths They watch and they wait
Ethereal angel of ice and snow, Against thy cheeks, the wind doth blow. A zesty tang of winter spirits Bid thee come to see and hear its Melodies of gentle breeze, see Spectacles of painted trees,
There are things in the shadows That dare come out into the day And grasp at my hands to tow Me far away. Alone I am nothing, Gone in the tides, But with you I am something
Life is awesome Words are beautiful Possibilities are endless Dreams are infinite The world is at your fingertips Life is ethereal
The Maiden danced gracefully Thousands of dimly lit lights Twinkling above her head The spot lightn her She dance an dances Trees wave with silent cheers As she dances by
Crashing waves and endless seas all across the weeping willow tree. Mists and winds and children’s song leave an echo through them all. And in this whimsy of life we find a spirit in warm delight.
Upon each wingéd criticism float hollow sadness extending infinite within, devouring seeming core of self eroded, still suspended in earthly bondage.
Instantaneously extrapolating infinitude summation of the single orb, derived of nether region, misty and cloud laden which sits on high.