Quiet

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  • Nature

    Quiet

    Cloudy skies,
    Rainy days,
    The land clear and beautiful,
    The mountains rising up high,
    The clouds touching their peaks gently,
    Hiding the biggest of them all.

    The grass is green,
    The wind is blowing harshly,
    The flowers sway in the wind,
    Snow covered mountains,
    Hot days in the sun,
    Nothing seems to move the snow,
    The heat like a gun to your head.

    Clouds drifting towards you,
    Only to be replaced with more,
    A never ending circle,
    Will it ever stop?
    Let's hope not.

    Evergreens poised proudly,
    On every mountain and hill,
    A dark silhouette against the whiteness,
    Of the clouds filling the air.

    As the sky darkens for night,
    The hills become quiet,
    Welcoming the night.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    StarDreamer’s Poems (24)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    What You Said 0
    What I Have To Do 0
    Can't Even See Me 0
    Dance 0
    Haunted Eyes 0
    Unfinished Poem 0
    You're NOT 0
    Hurt 0
    You Say 0
    Little Girl 0
    Don't Hold Back 2
    If You Saw 2
    Pushed Away 0
    Misunderstood -2
    Fade 0
    I Won't 0
    Little Girl 0
    Don't Hold Back 0
    Bottle It Up 1
    Quiet 0
    Her Smiles Don't Last 0
    Night Creature 0
    My Sister Always Told Me 0
    Never Perfect Enough 0