MagiStream

Swaying Branches
Rusling Leaves
The Wind moving Through the Trees
A Song like no other
What a beautiful sound
Go wind go
Make your sound


I had to start it up again

wolves10 wrote:Swaying Branches
Rusling Leaves
The Wind moving Through the Trees
A Song like no other
What a beautiful sound
Go wind go
Make your sound


I had to start it up again

Whats the next poem supposed to be about?

Quiery? Oh lord am I weary.
You ask
I sigh, mind turned to worry.
You ask
Why bother? Why should I hurry?
You ask
And I say, when you ask thrice
The next poem will be about light.

The emerald shadows
Dappling the grass with A marbling of colors
The light has traveled ninety three million miles
To sustain life as we know it
And she shines every day,
Though little we look up and say
"thank you"

Can the next poem be about sadness

He folds unto himself
like corners of
yellowed paper
Skies drip from his eyes
the screech of a thousand fighter planes
expanding in his mind.
Strangulation has a sound.

Next prompt: The morning after the war.

we made it

I made it

My body made it,
what happened to mind?
I lost it when the sky shattered
and the iron blasted bone to bits
when the sap of my comrades life
flowed like a crimson river
what happened to heart?
It broke when i learned that i wouldn't walk or run
unassisted ever again.
It broke when i was told
"i will pray for you" and
"God saved your life"
It broke when were lost.
What happened to you?

a poem about flight?

the flapping threw the air.
the wind blowing in your hair.
the freedom,
and high time.
watching the world bellow.
floating like a feather.

the next poem should be about someone forced to live the same day everyday. (like wakes up- its may 2nd- goes to bed- wakes up- its may 2nd- and so on)

Repetition, repetition,
You mock like some sick competition,
Sleep eludes, and hunger so thick its sick
But still I do not leave the bed
I wail at the indignity, but night after night it is the same
Truly I have no one else to blame
But repetition, repetition,
It mocks with precision
I cannot help but do it again, every day the same.

The next poem will be about sunlight

Light glowing from the smallest hole,
muffled and dark, it struggles through.
The Cave groans as its walls light up,
struggling to hide in its seas of coal.

The Sunlight never relents,
pushing harder and harder.
The crack opens larger,
and the battle will commence.

Day after day, night after night,
time passes in the blink of an eye.
The hole opens and closes,
as the Sunlight pushes with all its might.

For those outside the Sunlight is a heavenly ray,
of growing life and of peace.
Yet for the Cave it is nothing,
as all it knows is decay.

The Cave pushes it away,
but the Sunlight never gives up,
as it hopes to bring back its friend,
one day.

[Well that was long.

Could the next poem be about forests?]

Leaves above, moss below;
Plants guarding emerald depths
Mysteries they don't show.

Trees to left, trees to right;
Secrets are hiding here
Shadowed in green-tinged light.

Path in front, past behind;
No turning back for me
Things ahead I must find.

Next poem is about music.