Short Works, poems/stories

To my secret valentine...

The twilight haze, with swift goodbye,
has ushered in a blushing sky,
and as the darkness stretches thin
a gentle morning filters in.
Forgotten, dreams that filled my head
as I slip quickly from my bed;
all other souls lie peacefully
a'slumber so they do not see.

Warm winds will soon blow in to wake
the crystal surface of the lake;
tall reeds that skirt the edges there
are mirrored in this moment rare.
Reflected too, the pastel sky
with cotton clouds that hover high,
while pelicans with wings of snow
scout fish to fill small beaks below.

From leafy lofts in poplar trees
a choir of wrens and chickadees
bears homage to the rising sun,
proclaiming thus the day begun.
Upon my ear I feel the kiss
of leaves that sigh in quiet bliss;
within my heart, a warmth so rare
that only you could place it there.

What time could be more great than this,
when early dawn and morning kiss
for here, with worries swept away,
begins the perfect summer day.
A gift as none could ever find
to soothe the soul and calm the mind,
these precious moments, end to start,
that you have given to my heart.

Sounds pretty on my first read, although I confess that I read it too fast to pick up imagry

I've re-read, a little slower this time. Beautiful image of a divine, lakeside morning.

Glad you liked it.

Yet sometimes I wish I could write with a freer hand...make the words dance without rhyming every verse. Sometimes it honestly feels like I can't break out of a shell.

Here's a sad example... I wanted to convey a complicated thought through simple words. I'm not sure if I've portrayed it quite the way I had intended yet--its a work in progress. I'm learning and please, any comments are welcome.


Today I see just one
Not the pair
Filling me with dread
as I listen to the longing
in your song.

You search high and low
moving quickly, quietly
from place to place.
Is he a ghost now--gone forever
Without a trace?
Without a clue?

I've been told countlessly
that only time will heal.
I've often wondered how...
Back and forth, you come and go.
You song rings out so clear, so true.

A shining example of hope.
Be still.
You may not see it yet.
His spirit rests in you.


So that's the gist of it -- I'm having a hard time with this one.

Here I've put some suggestions in perentheses that I think might make this piece better Keep in mind, that even after whatever you do with these revisions, there will probably be more polishing

Today I see just one
Not the pair
Filling me with dread
as I listen to (insert three syllables, maybe ending with a rhyme to 'longing')
the longing in your song.

You're searching high and low
moving quickly, quietly
from (insert adjetive) place to (insert adjetive) place.
Is he a ghost now--forever gone
Without a trace?
Without a clue?

I've been told countlessly
that only time will heal.
I've often wondered how...
Back and forth, you come and go. (re-write this line)
You song rings out so clear, so true. (could be made to work, but better to show, not tell)

A shining example of hope.
Be still. (lengthen this line)
You may not see it yet.
His spirit rests in you.

thank you--much appreciated!

Hi,
I haven't posted on here for awhile...but my mom just had a baby. So I'm now the oldest of nine children.

Well, anyway, this baby is really a miracle. And I wrote a poem for her.

Abby’s Poem

Ah, the beauty of a new born babe,
Is just one of the wonders God has made.

The life that God has placed on His earth,
Has been given the gift of a brand new birth.

This precious gift that has been given,
Needs to be nurtured, just as it was written.

And when the time is right,
The little soul will be won without a fight.

As we watch this little maiden grow,
The Sunshine of God is on her, we know.

The baby of the family, she might be,
And a little spot of Joy we will soon see.

Praise the Lord for His wonderful ways,
For this little child is under His gaze.

Abigail Elizabeth is our new maiden,
For she has come to us from God’s Heaven.

God will watch over her with all His might,
For she is precious in His sight.

Every little child is from God’s own hand,
And a joy to all amidst a wounded land.
Writtten by~ Alilvna15