Blindfold
By
Serena Mossgraves
I have found it too easy
To don the darkness
Of the intentional
Blindfold.
If I can not see
Then it will not
Hurt me,
If I am but
Blind,
Then you are
But a figment
Of my mind.
Wednesday whisper
Category: Women Poets
Monday Poetry
Forgotten Flowers
By
Patricia Harris
Faded blooms
Floating down stream
Forget me nots
Don’t mean anything.
When you promised forever
With flowers in your hand,
I believed you with no demand…
But here I sit with forgotten flowers
And forever but a dream.
Monday Poetry
You Saved Me
By
Patricia Harris
You say that you feel
like you were a curse…
before you I was a soul
lost in the void.
I had no idea
what I should do
or who I was…
I had never seen
anyone else
remotely like me.
until you.
you saved me,
by introducing me
to who you are.
Wednesday whisper
Sirens lullaby
By
Serena Mossgraves
Blood in the street,
youth for the reaper to greet.
regrets pour from the end
of the gun like just another rainstorm .
Perhaps the community is so used
to playing the game,
oh well that's just fireworks again...
and the reaper's approach
will go unnoticed.
Or the sirens will be the lullaby
the infants remember
because of how oft they have
heard them .
Monday Poetry
Welcome Back
By
Patricia Harris
The door was closed
So long ago on who
We were, forgotten children
Pretending to be human
In the world turning us into
Monsters.
Taking away the idea
That were allowed to
Play, allowed to be
Happy…
Welcome back
To the forgotten places
Where childhood stows.
Wednesday whisper
What the Dead Know
By
Serena Mossgraves
Regrets add weight
To the soul,
Leaving knowledge
Of what life has been
Stripped away
From all that was
Worthwhile.
Instead of fighting with
What the Dead know,
The living should be
Thinking about how
To live instead.
Monday Poetry
Caustic
By
Patricia Harris
The words that drip from your tongue
burn deeply into the soul,
Caustic like the acid,
Perhaps I am lost in a fog
of the brain melted by what you had to say…
I stand here broken,
wondering if I have made
many the wrong choice,
Walking through the acid rain…
for someone who will never see
the damage inflicted.
For the one who will always
cause me pain.
Wednesday whisper
Hell
By
Serena Mossgraves
I read somewhere
That Hell was a place
Of fire and suffering,
I think not.
Hell is familiar,
That place you go
over and over again.
Hell is repetition,
and unending.
Hell is the moment
where the pain feels
the most like home.
Perhaps there might
be suffering,
but in the moment
would you see it so?
Or would you merely accept
that this is all you have
ever really known?
Monday Poetry
Singularity
By
Patricia Harris
Perhaps I am not the person
I thought I would be,
So like everyone else.
Perhaps I am but a
singularity,
a lost note
in a song sung
by the divine.
Wednesday whisper
Flutter
By
Serena Mossgraves
The first sensation
Nearly too much,
So when the darkness comes,
Seeping across too warm skin…
Maybe it was enough to bring
The asylum doors open.
The crimson flower
Blooming into the abstract,
Making sure I doubt whether
It was even reality
Or just the flutter of
A dream.
Pattimouse 