Snuffed
by Serena Mossgraves
the candle flickered softly
till the snuffer was brought forth.
the illusion of knowledge
given to the world is stripped
as the light fell from the eyes
of the innocent when truth was seen.
perhaps the snuffer has uses,
the world darkness does need…
the light has uses and knowledge
can be gleaned by leaving
the innocent to see.
forgetting
by Patricia Harris
I am working on forgetting
the importance of my life,
for I am more than what I
can remember myself to be.
instead I want to remember
the importance of those I love
and the way I want to eventually be
instead of focusing entirely on me.
Hindsight
by
Serena Mossgraves
The way hindsight blinds,
kindness hidden by fear,
and friendship torn apart
by the illusion of what
the mind perceives.
Perhaps hindsight is twenty twenty,
but with no light to illuminate
seeing through the dark
can be an impossible thing.
Under the Street Light
by Serena Mossgraves
the cold sets glistening
the ones that live
under the street light.
with no roof above them
the light exposes the
darkness below.
no home, no warmth,
the night is just another thing
to harry the broken soul along .
The Past
by Patricia Harris
the past is gone
forgotten,
repeating.
it leaves so many
feeling defeated.
it is not even happening
in a different way,
the past is gone...
so we will have to
live it all over again.
I have to admit I love Rachel Wiley’s Poetry. It feels like she gets where I have been. This was an impulse buy for me, as I rarely buy the paperback versions. I enjoy paperbacks but I don’t often read them. I find it easier to curl up with my phone and enjoy what I want to read. So for me Paperbacks are a luxury item. This one lives up to the hype. The poems tug at the heart, and are well written. The book is lovely. Not the largest volume, but it feels just right. I bought it on the Zon but it is available on B&N, Google and a few of the usual suspects.
Shame
by Serena Mossgraves
sitting in the dark
thumbing though
shame drenched
memories.
Wishing I had
a light to
illuminate the
truth in what
was just me.
The Problem with the Pen
by Patricia Harris
the poetry seems to flow
when the pen is no where
within my grasp,
inspiration striking as sleep
begins to take ahold.
I wish my memory
was set to be
as perfect as writing
the words would be.
Then I would have never
lost the words that crossed
my mind you see.
When Death came in
by Serena Mossgraves
we welcomed him with a smile
for the cards had laid clear,
when death came in
we all awaited him.
now please don’t worry
please don’t fear,
death was not the end at all
it was the choice to start again.
when death came in
the walls would fall,
and the ghosts would be
no longer drowning us
in a waterfall made of
memories and sin.
Unspoken
by Patricia Harris
I have forgotten how
much I enjoyed
the wprds that were
a river flowing from my mind.
so much to say
I somehow never
expected the world
to kill the joy in words
I could so easily find ...
struck dumb in the face
of what was humanity revealed,
I hated what I found.
it was easier for me
to live in the unspoken
then to fight cruelty all over again.
Pattimouse 