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Children In Mourning





Virgin shrouds
Mourning wombs
Innocence cut short
Parents' lap
Empty broken
Shoulders weary
Eyes weighed
Bullets strayed
Nameless assail
Hopes frail.

When bombs fly
And sirens cry
Children cannot defy
They wonder if they 
Will live to see
Another dawn
Play and run all day long
And they wonder 
What the fighting is all about?
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Danseuse

Waltzing through air, this vision with beguiling delicate grace
Like a danseuse figure, poised, carving delicate grace.

A breeze gently embraces this fragile creature
touching nimble limbs, a limber accentuating delicate grace.

Sunlight streams iridescent on her lissome stance
symmetrically lithe and supple, flaunting delicate grace.

Rhythmic movements pattern fawn colored sand creations
nudging grass beneath, with a soothing delicate grace.

The boundless energy of this dainty, flighty antelope
as she ambulates gracefully, epitomizing, delicate grace.

Elusive, mysterious, uninhibited, she basks in nature’s fold
within a cosmos, spangled with, pleasing, delicate grace.

Her vulnerability fills me with foreboding and much fear
of bloodthirsty predators, massacring delicate grace.

Finding The Rhyme

FeaturedFinding The Rhyme
I send my words into the sky
Watch them rhyme and then fly.

I close my eyes and feel the air
Forgotten words lost without care.

I take the letters in my hand
And put them on a poetic stand.

I scribe the words on a starlit scroll
Watch words take shape as night unfolds.

My dreams drift from a soul that bleeds
In the blue of ink, fractured lines freed.

I run my hands over my words
My fingers feel the emotions stirred.

With tender ease, the poetry glides
From my page to your eyes.
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Moonchild

I am a child of the earth
Raised by the stars in the sky
Tended by the moon as I sleep
Scars of the world clothe me
Her wounds rich in history.

I am bathed by the tears of the clouds
When it rains, the wind howls-in my ears
Apocalyptic....
When I cry-the earth soaks up my tears
A piece of my soul
Turning to dust;
And like dust, I rise
A storm of stardust
On moonstruck madness..

The sky calls out my name at dawn
Sparking the sun on my breast..

I am a child of the earth
The darkness and the light
The truth, the lie
Sorrow and joy
It's all there in the
Pen that I wield.


#free verse
Featured

Poet And Muse

I write from my soul to yours
I undress my heart to show you my scars.

Crimson-tinged words need no pages
Scattering into synapse spaces.

The pain spills as blood blue ink
Dipped in the inkwell of syllabic sync.

Hold my words close to your heart
They are my soul's oxygen chart.

I am a poet who paints with her pen
To frame my page with your name again and again.

Featured

Magnolia Reveries

Alphabets become jeweled figurines
Like studded stars drip-dropping
Sparkling confetti on a magnolia vignette…
I sit in quiet solitude breathing in the solace of sepia memories…crocheting a borealis in my solstice day
Syllables of Monet hues flame
A potpourri of poesies
Galaxy’s champagne
Serenades my rosette fire
Kaleidoscopic eloquence
Needling a mantle of chrome waltzes
A phonographic euphoria
Etching a musky interlude
Of shared tears
Radiating scarlet of an Amaryllis quill…

Featured

Magnolia Reveries

Alphabets become jeweled figurines
Like studded stars drip-dropping
Sparkling confetti on a magnolia vignette...
I sit in quiet solitude breathing in the solace of sepia memories...crocheting a borealis in my solstice day
Syllables of Monet hues flame
A potpourri of poesies
Galaxy's champagne
Serenades my rosette fire
Kaleidoscopic eloquence
Needling a mantle of chrome waltzes
A phonographic euphoria
Etching a musky interlude
Of shared tears
Radiating scarlet of an Amaryllis quill...

Featured

Along Came A Spider

Along came a spider
An eight legged rider.

In her web, I espied a fly
Other insects came to say goodbye.

The spider's sting operation
Causing pain sensation.

Spidey's silken seduction
Makes no cause for affection.

An intrepid with her labyrinth
Her stealth is her fingerprint.

She never trips in her net
Her web is her bayonet.

She walks and stalks a silky trail
Rigging a web to catch the frail.

Spiders are seen and never heard
They wield a most unlikely sword.
Featured

Poetry: The perfect noun

If I had wings to fly
I would go to the scarlet moon
On the wings of a diamond night
Trying to live again
Because the poet in me cannot die
I would go in search of my muse
I would go in search of eternity..

Under an ancient sky 
That spills the sun in my hair
Wildflowers in my eyes
Poetry on my lips
When the wind sings on my skin
Broken heartstrings kindle a lilt
Clouds weep into the blue
My soul goes sleepless
As the moon and sun wake together
Feeding my soul with ink
In a silence that goes ballistic
A quill that needs to be tranquilized
I idolize thoughts that spring
From poetry..
My mind stops hurting
I crash my hourglass..

White Spell

peace finds me 
in the soft murmur of an aurum hush
in the breeze that plays hide and seek
in the blue and ivory of dew kissed stillness
when shadows flutter the silent whiteness
peace finds me
when the sun’s golden passage
warms my sepia eyes
under winter skies
peace finds me.

Love Means…

love means never having to give up poetry 
it’s yours and yours for eternity .

love means writing poetry by yourself quietly
without pressure, without the anxiety.

love means dancing to a poesy I cannot hear
singing at the top of my voice without restraint or fear.

love means having poetry around forever
tucking away words for another poetic endeavour.

love means blowing words into the sky
catch them as they fly back to you with a sigh.

love means the breathing of words into a page
when blue of ink is all set to engage .

love means closing my eyes and feeling the words
a heart eloquent, so many emotions stirred.

love means glow and warmth of my soul’s evoking
where I can be just me being me scribing.

Sleep Writing

Poems whisper to me as I prepare for bed
Like a lullaby I hear them in my head
I fall asleep holding my notebook tight
Clutch my pen feeling the ink glowing bright
I dream I am writing in my slumber
But when awake I can’t remember
To capture elusive words that run asunder
Many a time I make a wordy blunder
I try to get back words from where they meander
There is no paper, there is no pen
I don’t have to cross my t’s
And dot my i’s
I don’t need to write a rhyme
Or make the syllables chime
My mind let’s go and feels sublime
With the spoken word I converse
Dreams come to me in the form of a verse
A monologue
In a soliloquy
A symphony of my
Soul’s piquancy .

Trick Or Treat

Wolf like dogs howl
At elusive moon
candy clouds abound
Out on the prowl

Ghouls play foul
Donning ensemble
Unearthly assemble
Phantoms bogle
Corn mazes , hay rides
Haunted houses fear belied
Green eyed sirens
Black cats roar like lions
Ravens fly blading the sky
Zombies spook
Owls hoot up trees
Skeletons sneak
Ghoulish scenes
Jack -o’-lanterns swinging
Errant wind chilling
Silhouettes creep creepily
Dead walk the gloom dreadfully
A witch cackles , swishes her broom
Her magic hat goes vroom
Goblins, imps, pixies
Trolls, brownies,
Pranking Bogies
Lightening the pumpkins
Carving trick or treat
Being scary is no mean feat

Autumn Rain

pearl-like rain
glosses the vista
slip-sliding
gleaming plops
borne by handmaidens of wind
gushing into brooks
spilling the
leas, meads, and meadows
bubbling bright
crystal fine
tinkling, cruising the zephyr
spate of rhythmic rush
a pouring
from a sky so vast
flimsy clouds
come down fast
dribbling, drenching, drip dropping
gossamer droplets tap.


# shadorma