The Sky Nomads
With such a long time to live
Yet living is not enough
For a single heart beat of time
It is gone in a single huff
Pouring from the great divines
And crossing anything in between
The velvet in the air waves
and is found only when seen
Taken from the earthly waves
They cluster with such form
They play games that children play
And so easy to be torn
Their tears are what gives us life
And beauty in the sky
They let themselves swell up
And bleed themselves completely dry
Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Barbara Sleep | 2 | 06/24/2010 |
| Legend of Kenidjack | 2 | 03/28/2010 |
| What Is It? | 0 | 08/15/2009 |
| The Sky Nomads | 0 | 08/15/2009 |
| Nightshades | 1 | 08/15/2009 |
| Ghost On the Roadside | 0 | 07/12/2009 |
| The Claymoure | 0 | 09/04/2009 |
| I Am The Reaper | 0 | 07/09/2009 |
| Sanity | 1 | 07/07/2009 |
| Grave For a Cradle | 1 | 07/09/2009 |
| A Letter From Mother Nature | 1 | 07/07/2009 |
| My Wine | 0 | 12/16/2008 |
| Lurching Lullaby | 0 | 12/16/2008 |
| Paradox | 3 | 08/15/2009 |
| The Life of an Ant | 2 | 07/07/2009 |
| The Hunted One | 0 | 12/16/2008 |
| Lips of Death | 1 | 12/16/2008 |
| Lady Katrina | 1 | 07/07/2009 |
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.