2 Poems

There is night in the day sometimes,
Scattered selves again and again;
Going around in their dark begrimes,
Laying their traps for their den.

There are clouds in the sky rushing,
Through hours of blue and to dark;
With breeze of their ways gushing,
In the hills with mischievous lark.

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Time will come again,
With beauty of all things;
Simple things and plain,
In the heart then sings.

When summer will rise,
In the blue and the green;
And each day diversifies,
What you haven't yet seen.

Through The Dreams That Are Gone

Through the dreams that are gone,
In the light of none to-night;
There is swift in each their aileron,
Through the darkening of light.
War and wounds of sorrel dreams,
Blooming fields that grow on near;
Everything into the rustle seems,
When again the daybreaks appear.

The fantasies ruling within reach,
A single task like a prisoner's diet;
Accurate by far lonely to teach,
Logic between a try to be quiet.
Grows of walls of blank thoughts,
Within bared windows of no view;
Emancipated reason of a bowknot,
Without more unanswerable argue.

Like the roses and the dark daisies,
Poet's spring is drawing here on;
In close keep of sleeping coveys,
Till each the demurrage's fully done.
Transformed delights once more,
Coming through the summer's ray;
Opening hue to the colorful door,
In the clearings of a beautiful day.

The Day Is Clear In The Blue

The day is clear in the blue,
Prevailing the drifting wind;
Sky in the gray and hue,
Covering the earth's tinned.

Forward look of the glen,
And forest in branches green;
All in the summer again,
Once where winter had been.

Love comes and sometimes go,
Through the sullen day lost;
Everything's from a while ago,
Into a time frame tossed.

Answers you did not find,
Walking through and plays;
Memories to some assigned,
Into gone thoughts pathways.

Beginning comes like an end,
The prime of our uncertainness;
Fancies crossing in the blend,
Clouds so light and frivolous.

Moods snapping ties to hold,
From the looks now going by;
Once so new and then all old,
In the clearings of blue sky.

It Is Late For The Day To Be Young

It is late for the day to be young,
All the feelings that are coming new;
Like a day that begins in a song,
And sometimes only heard by the few.
In the time that is here at this stage,
Growing themes from the silence;
and shall plow its magnitude with age,
When it is within reach of acceptance.

I was born to sing of tomorrows,
That is surrounded by infinities ways;
What of feeling each time borrows,
And how colors come from grays.
I have chosen a theme that is near,
To my heart and of island serenade;
In the many waters that flow here,
And to the ocean again is conveyed.

Days that were young come and go,
With feelings of those that were once;
Surrounded by the infinities that grow,
From the memories of candescence.
In the time where the thoughts travel,
With the clearness where all begins;
We will have the incarcerated marvel,
Magnitude of late the state that spins.

Autumn's In The Air

Autumn's in the air,
and days of memories;
it's this time of year,
in all gathering unities.
Flowers are withering,
to the colours of dark;
for summer is anchoring,
its vigour and spark.

The roads to new dreams,
in twilight now are;
and everything seems,
in a mood swing afar.
The silence are prolonged,
in travail voice foretold;
that sully moments pronged,
before winter's behold.

Autumn swings in moods,
from day to day that come;
world of different attitudes,
standing near and solemn.
Like the summer started,
patently now going through;
the autumn heavyhearted,
before its hue time is due.

All Dressed In Blue

All dressed in blue,
winter in frosty dress;
wet and rainy too,
weather fury duress.

All dressed in new,
spring comes in seedlings young;
first colors impromptu,
where cold once sprung.

Summer dancing dream,
blooms fragrance and hue;
a thought flowing its deem,
for what a heart finds true.

All dressed in brown leaves,
a breeze comes to blow;
the moments go in eves,
and the rivers overflow.

Accidental Opus

Just an accidental opus,
A song for another occasion;
Not to cause abrasiveness,
Just to settle some persuasion.

Just an Accidental song,
They were singing with a chorus;
A melody to get along,
To get sentimental and sonorous.

Just an Accidental passing,
Into an oblivion tune;
A thought here and there classing,
Into time's afternoon.

Just an Accidental way,
For whatever there inside is;
To meet the coming day,
And what a future may wish.

Abandoned Sundays

Abandoned Sundays,
gone into the oblivion;
with refined absurdities,
my concealed aesopian.

Playing through a heart,
with a spiritual strife;
cobbling thoughtful impart,
what makes up new life.

Going to a Monday,
with a full new beginning;
past a root of absurdity,
that was before singing.

A Winter Prelude

A winter prelude,
this song's going to be;
autumn will denude,
every summer tree.

And then it's gone again,
like the summer breeze;
it's easy to arraign,
to feelings of certainties.

A Secret Opens Like a Lotus

A secret opens like a lotus,
Revealed on the ongoing road;
Which is your time and notice,
For taking away a heavy load.

Days are born worrying free,
And all is set to the forward on;
Nothing is too extraordinarily,
Until it's all one time gone.

What you have is to fulfill,
And give away to the new;
Climb over the forward hill,
So futures may there bedew.

A Quiet Dream

A quiet dream
The woods are now,
In silences they seem
Going away somehow.

For winter glow comes
Glistening in snow,
And the frosty kingdoms
Surely will grow.

In still of night
Coldness comes forth,
Nothing there to ignite
From the north to north.

For winter glow comes
To give more frost on,
The frosty window blossoms
Will die again in predawn.

A Moment of Bliss

A moment of bliss
and a minute of wish,
is all that I need
to move forward and succeed.

What comes and goes there
like summer time's lane,
what circles in each year
and we must grow and attain.

The flowers on the hill
and beaches and sea waves,
the days that need fulfill
and new thoughts enclaves.

A Dream Within A Dream

A dream within a dream,
So lonely in the autumn still;
Wishes going in the air stream,
Never again to fulfill.

A dream within loneliness,
The moments we once had;
The day is now flowerless,
Down all this winter pad.

A dream within a stone,
So hard and cold of all;
The feeling when we are alone,
A day or two of appall.

A dream within the past,
From nights that were before;
The thoughts that didn't last,
And are therefore no more.

A dream within a reach,
That once was staying here;
And nothing left to teach,
Or nothing gave to share.

A dream within a thought,
That we once knew of some;
But time moved on or bought,
And never again is to come.