Magic Meadows - created by Heathcliffe


Magic Meadows
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Magic Meadows by Heather Burns...

In soft green magic
meadows
Quiet, lush, and serene,
Pattern a beautiful carpet,
Near a peaceful water
stream.

There will be little houses,
Standing in a row,
Around the houses, planted
lots of mistletoe.

Heathers lite the passion,
Between their world and
mine,
Planting lots of fruit trees,
So our fairy friends can dine.

Roses, Pansies, and Tulips
have lovely heads,
Fairies use the Tulips, for the
baby beds.

Bees, Butterflies, and Birds,
flying everywhere,
The sweet smell of Roses,
Perfume fills the air.

If I were a fairy, in that fairy
land,
I'd live in green lush meadow (5 years and 3074 days ago)

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9 lives spent - created by GAYART


9 lives spent
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A kitten, dead.
Upon the road.
Nine lives spent.
As I could see.
Never had a chance to grow.
up to the cat it should be.
A carcass that's grown old and cold.
And a spirit waiting to be freed.

Poem written by myself. I hope that's ok. The rules don't say I can't write my own poem.
(5 years and 3077 days ago)


To the Virgins - created by jeaniblog


To the Virgins
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To the Virgins, to make much of Time

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer:
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times, still succeed the former.

Then, be not coy, but use your time;
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

Robert Herrick 1591–1674 (5 years and 3076 days ago)

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When the Fishing Boats Go Out - created by Heathcliffe


When the Fishing Boats Go Out
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When the Fishing Boats Go Out
by : Lucy Maud Montgomery

When the lucent skies of morning flush with dawning rose once more,
And waves of golden glory break adown the sunrise shore,
And o'er the arch of heaven pied films of vapor float.
There's joyance and there's freedom when the fishing boats go out.

The wind is blowing freshly up from far, uncharted caves,
And sending sparkling kisses o'er the brows of virgin waves,
While routed dawn-mists shiver­oh, far and fast they flee,
Pierced by the shafts of sunrise athwart the merry sea!

Behind us, fair, light-smitten hills in dappled splendor lie,
Before us the wide ocean runs to meet the limpid sky­
Our hearts are full of poignant life, and care has fled afar
As sweeps the white-winged fishing fleet across the harbor bar.

The sea is calling to us in a blithesome voice and free,
There's keenest rapture on its breast and boundless liberty!
Each man is master of his craft, its gleaming sails out-blown,
And far behind him on the shore a home he calls his own.

Salt is the breath of ocean slopes and fresher blows the breeze,
And swifter still each bounding keel cuts through the combing seas,
Athwart our masts the shadows of the dipping sea-gulls float,
And all the water-world's alive when the fishing boats go out. (5 years and 3074 days ago)

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Auguries of Innocence - created by jeaniblog


Auguries of Innocence
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From 'Auguries of Innocence'

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

William Blake (1757 – 1827)

(5 years and 3074 days ago)

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