Oh belee! That belee turn to dust summers heat and seagulls in drove,
And brought about a dusk in October, on shore of sand and sea and sheltered grove,
Now that nature spins its dress, and her leaves falling slowly and a-clutter,
The sandy beach is cold and weathered, with orange sheens of browning October,
How the belee, becalmed the sea, made the fall less dreary,
Bright were the days of summer’s eve, recalled the sun a tear glittery,
On the horizon where it is dipping, falling asleep,
Now there's a dusk in October, the sea in fall, and shedding grove by the beach
About the Creator
Octovo Libra
Instagram: @libracymbaspoems
Twitter : @libracymbalspoems
And my poetry Hell Is Like A Dog Kennel and other poems
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His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstress6 days ago in Poets
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