Daisy Green

Loneliness 

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 

Word Block

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

Hidden Doors 

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 

Game Over 

A marital inquest 
In which one should enquire 
Forgetting the days of one’s desires 
Togetherness has just expired 

Hostage 

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
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M. Brazfield

afterglow art backlit bokeh
Photo by luizclas on Pexels.com

dishonest 

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

fulfillment

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 SPOKEN on Word Press. Her inspiration comes from life in Los Angeles, particularly Downtown.

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Reblog – Elements by Isha Garg

It’s as if nature is speaking for us in this piece. Enjoy the imagery, revel in the emotions!

Ishaisms

I don’t know what I’m doing or where I stand
before these waves on this forlorn strand
will the waters inundate me and make me flow
or the wind push me away with its aerial force?

Lost in this giant abyss and life’s unbearable heat
I long for the shade, the faraway streets
exhausted beyond endurance, suffered beyond suffering
lone, melancholy, a troubled, broken thing…

Water, carry me now, or Earth, swallow me whole
Fire, leave no traces behind, when to the Air, you let me go…

© Isha Garg

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Reblog – Eccentric Orbits by Frances Tates featured on The Drabble

A reader commented “Exquisite”, I agree. 🙂 Thank you, Frances Tates, for this beautiful piece of deep, heartfelt emotions. ❤

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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
reveal nothing.
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.”

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Lorraine Lewis

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pxhere.com

COME AGAIN LOVE

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

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

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

LAST BREATH

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

GIFTED

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.

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Reblog – Matches and Candles by Varnika Jain

Varnika has done such a beautiful job with metaphors and emotions in this piece. Enjoy!

Moonlighting Scrivener

Some people are like matchsticks

Starting up with a dazzling light

Before flashing and burning down to nothing

A simmering pile of soot

A has been of a never was

And some

Are like candles

Slowly burning

With a subdued glow

Spreading warmth

Giving light

Melting themselves

For your sake

Yet, we let the dazzle

Blind us to the warmth

Probably why my heart is dank and cold today

Rather than a well lit, cosy abode

Strike a match again, will you?

And light up the wick?

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