Across the lands, the People prayed,
To spirits strong, a world they made.
For hunts to thrive and harvests bloom,
To push back dark and banish gloom.
...
Cat and Mouse.
A tiny mouse, in green so deep,
From cat's sharp claws, its secret keep.
...
A hand reaches out, across the sea,
To touch a land that wants to be,
Just on its own, to find its way,
But finds that help arrives today.
...
A whisper in the quiet night,
A feeling that things will be alright.
A presence, unseen, yet always near,
A guiding light, to conquer fear.
...
Alone in the wild, forty days long,
No friendly face, no comforting song.
Just sand and sky, and whispers within,
A battle fought, where shadows begin.
...
A quiet garden, walled and deep,
Where secrets bloom and softly sleep.
These are my own, a hidden store,
To mend the heart and ask for more.
...
The table's set, a game of greed,
With 'sane' leaders, planting seed.
Of empires built on borrowed land,
A monopoly held in shaky hand.
...
Eightynine seconds, thin and frail,
To midnight's chilling, dark veil.
The clock still ticks, a steady dread,
For all the dreams, the words unsaid.
...
Life, a winding, wondrous road,
Where sunshine dances, shadows load.
A mystery woven, thread by thread,
With joy and sorrow gently bled.
...
The clock ticks low, our journey nears the end,
The gold we saved, no comfort can it lend.
The houses grand, the clothes we wore with pride,
...
Sun hangs low, sky stays bright,
Summer night, northern light.
Fifteen-foot boat, a quiet glide,
Fjord so still, on every side.
...
A legend whispers, soft and low,
Of life's last journey, where souls go.
A bridge of light, to skies so bright,
A path to Heaven, shining light.
...
74 year old norwegian, married and lived in Minnesota since I met my lovely wife, Dawn, in 2011. I've been writing poems most of my life, but mostly for fun and as a hobby.)
Ancient Religion.
Across the lands, the People prayed,
To spirits strong, a world they made.
For hunts to thrive and harvests bloom,
To push back dark and banish gloom.
Each tribe with ways both old and deep,
Their sacred rites they vowed to keep.
With furs and food, a humble plea,
To powers felt but not to see.
Then Shamans rose, with knowing eyes,
And gifts received from starry skies.
To read the signs and guide the hand,
To calm the storm and heal the land.
Like tales the strangers brought from far,
Of heavens bright and Lucifer's star.
Of souls that rise and find their rest,
A holy book, a chosen priest.
Yet shadows fall, a different view,
Where earth and sky are bound anew.
No wall to build, no gap to cross,
But kinship felt, no sense of loss.
For every plant and every beast,
Held spirit bright, a sacred feast.
A web of life, both grand and small,
Connected close, embracing all.
The guardians watched, a silent guide,
In nature's breath, divinity hide.
Unlike the world the others knew,
Where earthly stained and spirit grew.
Tor M.Solvang