Verses

Angels’ Dance

At the water edge

Angels dance,

their silver dresses

catch the sky above

and monsters-free,

new galaxies.

© Beata Moore

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Dazzle

The sea has no ambition to dazzle,

nor need to be the first.

Still, cherished, loved, admired,

we are its fervent slaves.

© Beata Moore

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

River Wey

The stories that river can tell you,

the things it has seen in the past…

I don’t want to know your secrets,

just dance in your green dress all night.

© Beata Moore

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The Splash

I can’t wait any longer, the ocean symphony starts,

and its blissful harmony engulfs my body at once.

 

I am not by the ocean, I am the ocean myself,

and water, the salty water starts running in my veins.

 

A sudden splash, an explosion, like heady pink champagne,

and waters cool me quickly – the perfect end of my day.

© Beata Moore

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Huntress

I am the huntress –

in the deep dark night

I hunt for stars in the sky above.

 

I am the hunted –

the celestial lights seek me

while floating on their starry paths.

 

They need me badly

to reflect their light;

their gleam is nothing, if I close my eyes.

© Beata Moore

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Beach Huts

Forgotten and empty for long winter months

the beach huts are bustling again in the sun.

The colourful curtain, like girl’s summer dress,

is merrily swirling in the gust of wind.

The smell of the fresh paint is lingering still

and marks the beginning of the coastal dream

of long sunny days, of chasing the waves,

of sand castles builds and fish that are grilled.

© Beata Moore

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Colours for Life

What do you do, the stranger asked.

I chase the colours, I catch the time

and paint my days with the divine light

of heavenly sky and the setting sun.

© Beata Moore

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Green Grave

The silent pond is not so silent,

a tiny stream reveals it’s source

and reassuring water trickle

adds to the beauty of the place.

 

The water surface by trees protected

is calm and green, like poor girl’s eyes

who lost her life when forced to water

by King John’s hunting her for her charm.

 

Just an old legend, they say, long time ago,

but when you come here at first light,

her see-through dress you glimpse in the water,

her face still sad and eyes not shut.

 

You want to rescue her, move one step closer,

but the faint phantom quickly fades

and you are left with green, green waters

and reeds that cushion her watery grave.

 

© Beata Moore

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Buttermere

Pink as marshmallow fluffy and merry,

clouds start to bathe in the glory of light.

Sky is on fire and frozen grass blades

steal heavenly warmth to break icy chains.

© Beata Moore

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Lullaby

When after a long day, at last the sun goes down,

the mast, stays and railing will sing you a lullaby.

Hush, hush my baby, there are no monsters in the sea,

there are only strange rocks and friendly creatures below:

 

puffer fish that inflates,

octopus with many arms,

starfish full of splendour,

and seahorses that dance

 

When after a long day, you no longer see the sun,

it’s time for the fish and ocean creatures

to start dancing and singing aloud.

There are no monsters, my baby,

sweet dreams, sleep well tonight,

our old trusty boat will sing you a lullaby.

© Beata Moore

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Two realms

Heaven and hell, so close together,

divorced by the invisible line.

Eternal sun barred by the fortress

of hills and woods standing nearby.

© Beata Moore

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Broken Heart

That terrible summer that you left me on my own,

I was sitting all numb and broken in my tiny seaside home.

The screaming silence was broken by the waves clashing outside,

I strolled slowly by the ocean to have my tears dried.

 

Watching the seagulls fly and stormy sky above

I felt the strong temptation to dive, dive, dive…

The sorrow – a bad adviser – was chased away by the wind,

I picked up some tiny seashells, went back to my home by the sea.

© Beata Moore

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Giants

I walk in awe among these mighty rocks,

watching every step I take.

How come their structure is broken,

who pushed them against the Earth?

 

Could it be that some angry giants,

playing with lumps of earth,

pulled them and twisted severely

to score some points in their game?

 

Their might fills me with stillness,

I am merely a few seconds old

against the grandiose beauty

and their never ending days.

© Beata Moore

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