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DYING DAY

A wistful still, 
no wind, 
no song of bird, 
nothing stirs. 

The world seems half asleep, 
no weeping willows here,
just birches, firs and hornbeams 
beaming at the spring to come, 
each of them in their row, 
where thrushes gather in the fall 
to gorge on berries one and all.

It's evening, the time of rest,
when silently the night,
gathers in the light,
spreads an indigo instead.

The cool of air floats round about,
soothing sunburnt needles,
gathering the thoughts of those who hunt,
shutting the gates of day, it's bright,
dulling sounds and sighs alike,
pastel skies turned magical
in twilight's gentle madrigal.

Written just now.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Editing stage: 

Comments

Good discription of a day coming to quiet end, Also could describe ending of another type.............stan

THE SUNRISE HERE AND SUNSET THERE
ARE ALL ROUND THE WORLD
DAY AND NIGHT
SOME DAYS are bright
some nights are

was a dry sunny day here!

loved

And then the Lady asked why, or what did my comment in reply to your
thoughts on what I said in "Can I" mean, this just proves that you can, lol.
Lovely write and written, just now, from that heart that is run by grand thoughts, I rest my case lol, Yours Ian.T xx

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

in piece
or for better peace
maybe !

loved

I think that there are misunderstandings here, but nothing that needs to be gone into in detail.
I do not see where there was a case,
But thank you for appreciating my poem here Ian.
Do crit me if ever you feel like it. I am neither shy here, nor pompous
just Ann.

Love Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

You paint a beautiful picture I think we all have our beautiful sunsets and sunrise its the poets job to describe their experience and to notice them, this is a lovely poem I thoroughly enjoyed the read

love Jayne-Chloe xxx

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

Lives and lands so different from ours. It makes me wond whether the end if the day is the same all over the world

Jayne-Chloe and fFrench, i think they are the same all over the world, the duration of them is different, my Aunt Anne, described one sunrise in Nairobi, and they are short, and quickly gone, so everybody wherever they were in the streets stopped to watch it rise,she said it was an atmosphere of wonder she would never forget, awe inspiring where we stop en masse only to watch the fireworks of New Years Eve. this was an everyday occurrence, perhaps all who live there are poets??

Love to you both from Ann of Norway.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

che bello,Anní.

Grazie mio bello! :)
And as I write to you I hear the madrigals
of the Italian past, once we heard them
at the Italian council, beautifully sung,
so you know what I meant by that word here.

Love as aye Anni.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment
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