Poems About the Morning by New Members
#morning
Shon
Poem Published
Yesterday 5:50am
Yesterday 5:50am
Jack Frost
Twas an early December morn.
I felt a presents upon getting out of bed.
A nipping frosty touch.
In tips of my fingers & my toes.
A mythical creature, I now remembered.
In winters a long time ago
That is to frost as Midas was to gold.
Jack frost has come to call.
Not that I ever saw Jack frost ever!
nor did i see him work.
He always worked at night
Creating patterns of pure delight.
Some said he tried to snatch me.
Visiting during the night.
Scratching and touching the window.
Weaving my breaths...
I felt a presents upon getting out of bed.
A nipping frosty touch.
In tips of my fingers & my toes.
A mythical creature, I now remembered.
In winters a long time ago
That is to frost as Midas was to gold.
Jack frost has come to call.
Not that I ever saw Jack frost ever!
nor did i see him work.
He always worked at night
Creating patterns of pure delight.
Some said he tried to snatch me.
Visiting during the night.
Scratching and touching the window.
Weaving my breaths...
#morning
#night
#winter
22 reads
2 Comments
Shon
Poem Published
Yesterday 5:50am
Yesterday 5:50am
Jack Frost
Twas an early December morn.
I felt a presents upon getting out of bed.
A nipping frosty touch.
In tips of my fingers & my toes.
A mythical creature, I now remembered.
In winters a long time ago
That is to frost as Midas was to gold.
Jack frost has come to call.
Not that I ever saw Jack frost ever!
nor did i see him work.
He always worked at night
Creating patterns of pure delight.
Some said he tried to snatch me.
Visiting during the night.
Scratching and touching the window.
Weaving my breaths...
I felt a presents upon getting out of bed.
A nipping frosty touch.
In tips of my fingers & my toes.
A mythical creature, I now remembered.
In winters a long time ago
That is to frost as Midas was to gold.
Jack frost has come to call.
Not that I ever saw Jack frost ever!
nor did i see him work.
He always worked at night
Creating patterns of pure delight.
Some said he tried to snatch me.
Visiting during the night.
Scratching and touching the window.
Weaving my breaths...
#morning
#night
#winter
22 reads
2 Comments
Shon
Poem Published
Yesterday 5:50am
Yesterday 5:50am
Jack Frost
Twas an early December morn.
I felt a presents upon getting out of bed.
A nipping frosty touch.
In tips of my fingers & my toes.
A mythical creature, I now remembered.
In winters a long time ago
That is to frost as Midas was to gold.
Jack frost has come to call.
Not that I ever saw Jack frost ever!
nor did i see him work.
He always worked at night
Creating patterns of pure delight.
Some said he tried to snatch me.
Visiting during the night.
Scratching and touching the window.
Weaving my breaths...
I felt a presents upon getting out of bed.
A nipping frosty touch.
In tips of my fingers & my toes.
A mythical creature, I now remembered.
In winters a long time ago
That is to frost as Midas was to gold.
Jack frost has come to call.
Not that I ever saw Jack frost ever!
nor did i see him work.
He always worked at night
Creating patterns of pure delight.
Some said he tried to snatch me.
Visiting during the night.
Scratching and touching the window.
Weaving my breaths...
#morning
#night
#winter
22 reads
2 Comments
cinnamongirl031
Poem Published
29th Nov 2024 3:37am
29th Nov 2024 3:37am
Morning Fog
Fog seldom settles over this small city,
At times it pauses in early morning hours
to listen to the tranquil cooing
of pottering pigeons.
The shadowed sky appears comatose
as it breeds an air of dissolution
against the hypnotic setting
of a sleeping city.
Citizens awaken to the pale glow of mid-dawn.
The sky which had harbored
the heavy, leaden fog
now leaves only a whisper of grey
as evidence of its existence.
At times it pauses in early morning hours
to listen to the tranquil cooing
of pottering pigeons.
The shadowed sky appears comatose
as it breeds an air of dissolution
against the hypnotic setting
of a sleeping city.
Citizens awaken to the pale glow of mid-dawn.
The sky which had harbored
the heavy, leaden fog
now leaves only a whisper of grey
as evidence of its existence.
#morning
#nature
#sky
58 reads
4 Comments
cinnamongirl031
Poem Published
29th Nov 2024 3:37am
29th Nov 2024 3:37am
Morning Fog
Fog seldom settles over this small city,
At times it pauses in early morning hours
to listen to the tranquil cooing
of pottering pigeons.
The shadowed sky appears comatose
as it breeds an air of dissolution
against the hypnotic setting
of a sleeping city.
Citizens awaken to the pale glow of mid-dawn.
The sky which had harbored
the heavy, leaden fog
now leaves only a whisper of grey
as evidence of its existence.
At times it pauses in early morning hours
to listen to the tranquil cooing
of pottering pigeons.
The shadowed sky appears comatose
as it breeds an air of dissolution
against the hypnotic setting
of a sleeping city.
Citizens awaken to the pale glow of mid-dawn.
The sky which had harbored
the heavy, leaden fog
now leaves only a whisper of grey
as evidence of its existence.
#morning
#nature
#sky
58 reads
4 Comments
cinnamongirl031
Poem Published
29th Nov 2024 3:37am
29th Nov 2024 3:37am
Morning Fog
Fog seldom settles over this small city,
At times it pauses in early morning hours
to listen to the tranquil cooing
of pottering pigeons.
The shadowed sky appears comatose
as it breeds an air of dissolution
against the hypnotic setting
of a sleeping city.
Citizens awaken to the pale glow of mid-dawn.
The sky which had harbored
the heavy, leaden fog
now leaves only a whisper of grey
as evidence of its existence.
At times it pauses in early morning hours
to listen to the tranquil cooing
of pottering pigeons.
The shadowed sky appears comatose
as it breeds an air of dissolution
against the hypnotic setting
of a sleeping city.
Citizens awaken to the pale glow of mid-dawn.
The sky which had harbored
the heavy, leaden fog
now leaves only a whisper of grey
as evidence of its existence.
#morning
#nature
#sky
58 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About the Morning by New Members
Page:
