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In Her Own Write
Are you ready to start your day or, perhaps, to turn in? Do you need a boost to get you going? Have you had a hard day? Tired and spent? Then youve come to the write place. Heres a chance to do something special for yourself: Turn off the TV and the radio, dim the lights, enflame the candles--add incense if you dare-pour a bit of your favorite beverage---wine, perhaps?--- curl up in that comfy chair youve always been meaning to spend time in, close your eyes and listen to Monica recite from her collection of original poetry, with a subdued musical background.
Or, if you prefer, follow along with the text below. Simply click on the play arrow of the collection of your choice when you are ready.
COLLECTION 1--NATURE
Wind
blows where it will
and waits
for no one.I sometimes wish
I were the wind...Simple Pleasures
Give me a sapphire sky above my head
With stars to guide my way
An alabaster moonlit night
And the golden sun by day
Give me trees to teach of beauty and strength
Flowers in every hue
The rain to quench my thirst for life
For temperance, the morning dew
Give me wind at my back to ease my way
A breeze to cool desire
A gentle breath that whispers love
And for passion, give me fire
Give me the soft green grass throughout my life
On which my feet may tread
But when this body breathes no more
Lay me down in earthen bed
Woodsmoke
Silver smoke spiraled
around a blackened chimney
and faded into a frosty mist.
The smell lingered long
after the woodsmoke vanished
deep into the cold winter night.Fog
In the darkness of night it crept
In silence
Embracing each thing with a gentle mist
Softly
Its hazy shadow was cast upon the hard-frozen earth
The image born, complete peaceI delighted in the ethereal beauty
And was acutely aware of the hush
That had fallen along with the fog, muting
The starkness
The harshness
Of both sight and sound
Transforming each thing for a moment
By its presenceCome October
Copper and gold, these riches I treasure
More than any earthly pleasure
Come October they shimmer in fields of grain
A harvest of color, in nature they reign
Behold their beauty, store the memory, look fast
But the blink of an eye and the season has passedFinale Wet leaves
veiled in the silver-soft mist
of a late summers eve
glisten through muted moonlight,
their swan song
before an autumnal gust
sends them sailing
to heavenly heights
like dust in the wind
Collection 2: Miscellaneous
Grave Concern
Two stood together, heads bowed, silent
Cries buried in cold cupped hands
Bearing the marks of tear-stained grief.The earth was not newly opened here
And I wondered who might lay, still,
Beneath the feet of two
Who stood together, heads bowed, silent;Whose long-ago passing could yet evoke
Such profound pain.
Sister, mother, friend, other?
I am each of these and more.
And so, I pondered, what of my own?Would any stand together, heads bowed, silentCries buried in cold cupped hands
Bearing the marks of tear-stained grief?
Ballerina
In the spring
When she was a child
I wanted her
To be a ballerina
So she put on a tutu
And toe shoes
And danced for meNow it is autumn
And the winds blow colder
She dresses in jeans
And sweatshirts
And a Superman hat
And I want her
Simply to beTestament
Poetry is within me
I know this from the heart
It lives and breathes akin to me
We too shall never part
Although Im but an instrument
For each poetic word
Im pleased to offer testament
That the souls voice can be heardNever More
Uncertainty was not a stranger
But these days seemed more distant
It could not approach a heart so full
Nor dash her spirit of hope
Neither would it dare intrude
the sanctuary of a soul contented
She believed in herself now
And would call upon this tormentor
Never moreIf Only, I Think
I am a storm on the horizon
Slate blue, whirling dizzy
Soaring on eagles wings
Swaying like jazz with each gust
Of Gods mighty breathI am a chameleon, changing moods
Like a Maple changes colors
I can smile with tears in my eyes
Cry with a smile upon my lips
And no one is the wiserI think I can be anything
If only I had the courage to succeedIf only I had the courage
If only
Time CapsuleTime goes, you say? Ah, no!
Alas, Time stays, we go (Austin Dobson --British author The Paradox of Time)
Though many times Ive paid no mind
And pushed the old trunk aside
This day I bravely bowed to fate
And beheld what lay insideWith pounding heart I broke the lock
And raised the dusty lid
I could not wait to resurrect
The treasures which it hidEntombed within, conserved with care
Concealed throughout the years
My life, preserved for posterity,
Before me now appearedIn infants raiment, small and crisp
In yellowed scrapbook pages
In crinkled paper and ribbon shreds
I survived throughout the agesI closed my eyes and summoned Time
I begged it to remain
I could not bear its passing now
I prayed it would refrainI closed the lid and asked myself
Time goes, you say? Ah, no!
I thought again and sadly sighed
Alas, Time stays, we goFear
In darkness it comes,
that empty feeling.
Fear, like a cold sweat
leaves us chilled and wet
with hot tears tingling,
cold rain co-mingling.
We are its target;
in darkness it comes.
Forsaken
Death has been greedy of late
and has surely taken more
than his share why
the rush what need
in the hush of night
to exact such a fateIt gives us pause,
a moments thought
to examine our lives
lest we be caught off-guard,
forsaken
More To Come...
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