Into the valleys
Yellow and brown
Sun parched hills
Colors of golden.
Arrival of fall
Gusty winds
Plants and trees
Blowing and thrashing.
Tossing and turning
Scattered leaves
Dust and brush
Rolling of the tumble weeds.
Golden hills
Glowing into the valleys
Howling winds
Echoing through the canyons.
Crimson skies
The sun below the horizon
Above the hills
Arise of the harvest moon.
Riverside is a very nice place to live. When I wrote the poem Riverside, the wind was blowing and at the end of the day was arise of the havest moon. It was so very awesome! I jotted down what I had heard and seen and then I wrote the poem Riverside. Of course it was the start of fall.
There's a lovely rhythm and flow to this poem, and every line holds a glowing picture. I like your style very much, and I wish you luck with publishing.
Please take a look at my poems, which I feel are very similar to yours, and perhaps you would like to drop by my website, where you can browse through more of my poetry, and a bit more about me.
Explore the mystery of how nature makes unexpected gifts of creative wonders to an unsuspecting caregiver one late night and early morning in southeastern Georgia, USA.
Explore the mystery of how nature makes unexpected gifts of creative wonders to an unsuspecting caregiver one late night and early morning in southeastern Georgia, USA.
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Please take a look at my poems, which I feel are very similar to yours, and perhaps you would like to drop by my website, where you can browse through more of my poetry, and a bit more about me.
Do you have a website?
Kind regards, Louisa