3 result(s) for Rugged Valley Poems: Green Moss And Bare Grey Rock Mountains.
These poems are completely original - not copied from anywhere. Feel free to use them however you want.
Dawn on the Grey Peaks
In the rugged valley, mist lifts slow,
Where green moss clings to the stones below.
The bare grey rock stands tall and wide,
Its ancient face with morning pride.
Then dawn arrives on silent feet,
And paints the peaks in gold so sweet.
The pale light spills from ridge to stream,
Turning cold stone to a waking dream.
The moss drinks gold, the valley breathes,
As shadows fold beneath the leaves.
And still the mountains, firm and bare,
Hold the sunrise in their silent care.
Stillness in the Valley
Between the peaks where cold winds sleep,
the green moss creeps on stones of grey,
and silence lays its quiet hand
upon the valley's rugged way.
The bare rock mountains, worn and high,
stand patient as the ancient years,
their shoulders bowed to open sky,
their stillness holding older fears.
No river hurries through the stone,
no bird disturbs the hush of noon;
the moss drinks dew, the rock grows known
to every breath of wind and moon.
And I, who came with restless feet,
am stilled as all the land is still,
and learn from mountains, moss, and stone
the patience of the hills.
Valley's Long Shadows
Green moss clings to the cold grey stone,
where the mountains rise, bare and alone.
No bird disturbs the rugged height,
only the wind, and the fading light.
Shadows stretch across the valley's floor,
long fingers reaching, cool and sure,
they pool in hollows, softly spread,
like dark water over the sleeping bed.
The rock stands silent, patient, old,
its seams of silver plainly told,
while moss drinks deep from the mist's embrace,
a sudden jewel in the stony place.
And when the sun slips behind the crest,
the valley folds into its quiet rest,
and green and grey dissolve as one
beneath the dusk's soft, gathering sun.
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