Learn more about other poetry terms
Stevie, we were free, Stevie, you and me, On that golden day, Was it ’68? The decade’s last few days, The whole wild world was crazed, But where we were was peace, For you and me at least.
Kind faces smiling, Nodding politely at words They don’t seem to understand, Show me pictures Showing the richness Of a faraway distant land, Multicoloured motor cars,
Skies are gray and flat The crunchy leaves stir about I color blank streets
All I see is blue Transcends all seas, skies, and space The earth kissed my face
That gentle breeze Nothing but fresh air It is crystal clear Rising up through the atmosphere When the ship sails Over the horizon You can see those nightly skies As you approach your destination
my eyes will not enchant you friends will not ask why can't you escape pervading thoughts of me like a stream dreaming shots of sea you will not wonder how i cross a room
To capture a picture means a memory
Red, the raven flies in the northern skies. Black clouds growl on the horizon, while the faded orange sun rises in the east, the shimmering sea is but a sodden patch.
It smells like rain, dear. The grey sky cries heavily. I want to cry too.
Beautiful skies filled with gray Some may think oh what a shame But i, certainly do not We hold on to the very last bit we have