I see the candle flickering in the shadows, the sweet smell of jasmine arouses my thirst for sensual lovemaking. I sit alone in this dark stone cottage nesting in the hills of autumn. The trees are shedding the security of their warmth, of the cold winter that is approaching. I sit all lazy and dazed. I dream of walking hand in hand with the beautiful man I adore, step by step, crunching and crushing the red, brown, and orangey leaves.
The sound of the lambs The tweet tweet tweeting birds sing From my garden swing
Embrace the Reality
Today I feel alive. There’s someone at my door. My heart joining the tapping of every knock. I open the door wide just like the look in my eyes. It’s him, he is here, he’s finally come. I wrap myself around him and embrace him tenderly. We are lost in a stare. My eyes are shut tight. I awaken from the night. I must have fallen to sleep. With the realization of my dream. The cold stone cottage dampens my joy. I crawl from my bed and blow out the candle but there’s no point in making a wish. I look from my window and the leaves have disappeared, replaced by the spirals of icicles neatly webbed between the branches of the trees.
Tea in the morning Pot of herbal for my lunch Wine in the evening
Writer’s block Hello Knock knock Racing against the clock Assignments piled up Until you feel the door unlock
Sit in the garden Sit at the desk Bring the pen to the paper The books you’ve read Will make the words flow
Let the words you drank Filter through your paws
So many hidden doors In this house she’s never lived in before Only in her dreams and nightmares does this house appear Each dream revealing a new room Which has familiarity Sometimes includes her family Doors of happiness Doors of sadness This is just life Clearing her path
A marital inquest In which one should enquire Forgetting the days of one’s desires Togetherness has just expired
Hostage to the virus Where is my protected vest? Will this nightmare rest?
Daisy Green’s inspiration comes from being a victor of domestic abuse who continues to thrive in life. Her words come from the heart and are most often dark. Her purpose, through writing and sharing her poetry, is to empower others to identify their own pain but most importantly to give hope. You can find her work at her blog – Daisy Green and on Facebook
beige irate hidden well within myself smile rejoice believe reverberate inside deeply bury sorrow’s babe float through imagined normal life ignore the toxic warnings to be honest with my pain and let it fly free
to kiss me
silent warm spirit icy wet sweet poison pot draw those thoughts from me
aging hand unfolds soft palm up to the skyline caressing her past
M. Brazfield is a Gen X’er born and raised in Los Angeles, California. She is an untrained writer and enjoys sharing her work on her blog WORDS LESS SPOKENon Word Press. Her inspiration comes from life in Los Angeles, particularly Downtown.
giving a voice
to your unuttered
despair left in the wake?
I cannot run to you now.
We survived the end of our world,
unfortunately not each other.
Paths once united, just dust from our past.
A reader commented “Exquisite”, I agree. 🙂 Thank you, Frances Tates, for this beautiful piece of deep, heartfelt emotions. ❤
By Frances Tate
You are moon to my tide,
You pull away – I ebb and flood.
Rare blue moons, I keep up
with your wax and wane.
Hunting through clouds to see
which bloodied or
honeyed face you wear-
which scars and valleys show.
But the black moon, the dark sky
I’m not ready to stop trying.
Stop hoping that,
of all the courses run,
one will be your resistance.
I can’t explain why it matters,
what it is about you
I can’t relinquish-
even though you’ve never
been mine to lose or hand back.
I never question my lunacy.
Frances Tates writes because, “the words made me.”
Willow I hide in you Where the pale winter dwells Waiting for light to come again Darkest Nights cry In silent solitude for love Once held in softest hands Come again love Call me
Stripped by winter’s darkest rays I lie in sorrow’s deep embrace Tears erupt fill empty days Disappear in rising haze Light comes again in unknown ways Stripped by winter’s darkest rays I lie in sorrow’s deep embrace
WHERE LIGHT IS BORN
Stuck in The damp dark earth My fingers scrabble cries Rising silently to heaven The veil Is torn By unimaginable pain I dwell in the darkness Where light is born Screaming
Call me As the snowdrops Die in pure innocence While the wild winds roar their rage Holy Sacred Is the silence now as death comes Sighing in the stillness Of the last breath On earth
Come lie In my sighing Sadness caress me now As I breathe in woe my last breath Leaving Behind You whom I love dearest of all Whisk me to the darkness Quickly now cry No more
In sun’s Pure light blinded I see an open door With the eyes of my heart softened By tears Gently Dancing with the stars in my eyes Gifted to me by love Unseen unknown Before
My name is Lorraine Lewis. I have always written poetry but began to write more in earnest following having serious advanced blood cancer and going blind and becoming wheelchair-bound. I greatly enjoy experimenting with different forms of poetry, preferring the shorter forms.