6 result(s) for Raindrop On Still Waters Poems.
These poems are completely original - not copied from anywhere. Feel free to use them however you want.
Return to the Deep
A single drop lets go of the cloud,
falls through the hush of the sky,
and strikes the pond with a silver sigh,
rings out in circles, soft and proud.
The ripples spread, then fade and fold,
as if the water tells its tale,
that every stream, however frail,
is only sea, returned and told.
So let the rain come down in grace;
each drop will find its way to rest,
like pilgrims coming home at last,
to the wide and patient, waiting place.
The Single Ring
A lone drop falls from the gray sky,
and touches the pond with a whisper,
then opens a ring that drifts outward,
widening, thinning, reaching the reeds.
The lily pads tremble and settle,
the surface forgets it was broken,
and all that remains of the falling
is a faint, returning stillness.
Ripple and Repose
A single drop falls from the gray,
and stillness shatters, bright and sudden.
Rings expand in silver lines,
reaching outward, breaking the calm.
The pond forgets its mirrored sky,
the lily trembles, the reeds bend low,
but water, patient, learns to rest,
and smooths its surface, slow and sure.
So ripples fade as they must fade,
and stillness gathers, quiet and whole,
until another drop descends,
and the pond remembers how to break.
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Ripples of Gray
A single drop falls from the heavy sky,
and breaks the glass where clouds drift by.
The sheet of water shivers, wide,
as storm-gray skies lie down inside.
Each ring spreads out in silver thread,
the sunken clouds are gently fed,
they tremble, bend, then soft resume,
all gray and calm within the pool.
Afterglow of the Storm
The rain has spent its restless hand,
and clouds unfurl like tired sails.
One drop lets go, a silver grain,
and brushes the pond with whispered trails.
The circles widen, soft and slow,
then fade into the glass again.
The water holds its breath once more,
remembering only the sky's refrain.
No ripple lingers past its call;
the surface mends its shining seam.
And stillness settles, deep and clear,
as if the storm had been a dream.
Concentric Silence
A single drop lets go of cloud,
and kisses the lake without a sound.
The surface shivers, then awakes,
where one small touch the stillness breaks.
A ring unfolds, both thin and wide,
spreading outward, love with pride,
reaching the reeds, the shore, the stone,
until the water is its own.
Then all is calm, as if it never fell,
the lake resumes its quiet spell,
yet every ring still hums within,
the memory of where it begins.
