Oh Solitude,
Wrap your golden arms around my shoulders,
Hold me in your silence.
*
Replace roarkus voices
With the hurly-burly of the brook,
Babbling by.
*
Change the traffic
Into birdsong, let the nightingale
Sing me her grateful melody.
*
Let me escape the busy-ness,
Give me exquisite delight, in
Sounds of nature, green and gold.
*
About the Creator
Ruth Stewart
Never one to do one thing at a time, I'm currently writing a horror novel and a book of poetry for the daughters of narcissists. Come back soon for a link to be included in all my news, on Vocal and elsewhere. I'd love to get to know you!
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More stories from Ruth Stewart and writers in Poets and other communities.
The 2nd Coming
**ATTENTION: Misguided wanderers of the World Moving forward, you shall relinquish your name and place all grievances aside. I reclaim absolute authority and choose not to recognize individual purpose or tired pursuits of grandeur. Until further notice, every living soul will now be referred to as 'Occupant'.
By Lamar Wiggins5 days ago in Poets
After the Storm
After the storm of winter snow there sat a small bear by the name Ted, of course. He loves the snow and likes to roll around in it making all sorts of trails and whatever he has a mind to do. He wondered where all the people are, but in a way, he is hoping that they are all snug in the homes maybe drinking hot chocolate-one of his favorite drinks with mini-marshmallows and eating something homemade for he likes this winter wonderland all to himself to romp and play and maybe even catch some fish down by the river.
By Mark Graham4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (5)
I could hear the brook and the nightingale while reading this. So calming
Oh, how I love the quiet, especially after the holidays
Ah lovely! I do like the quiet.
Evocative work, good job!
Really rather beautiful.