So quickly my whole world shattered
the results are in from the test,
you told us years ago
that you needed to be free,
and now there's a problem...
It is nothing new
doctors always doubt,
health is just a cost
and how much money
you are able to throw about.
Midnight Conversations
by Serena Mossgraves
In the wee hours
when life comes forlorn,
speaking with ghosts
of memory seems to be
the one comforting
thing to hold on.
midnight Conversations
with moments of the past,
seem to set to rest
the worries of my life.
the madness is but a whisper
that speaks to the chaos within,
tis okay though ... for as long as you
keep going forward and and don't give up,
it'll all make sense in the end.
the world will always have chaos
madness and drama to forge
the dreams into what makes
sense in the end
Little Deaths
by Serena Mossgraves
how many times
can a man die,
each little death
a monument to
the life they have lived.
Nothing so strong as needing
a coffin for burial or cremation…
still each death a moment
that affected how life was
continued from there on.
in the mind's bouquet
mine seems to be
gathered wildflowers
wrapped around
belladonna and foxglove.
Irises and daisies,
violets for sure...
a collection of strange
that suits me so well.
soft, lovely, and deadly,
with beauty to spare.
Flowers in the Rain
by Serena Mossgraves
the sadness weeps
from the bouquet
Just set in memory,
being drenched
by the rain.
so often flowers
are given in heartache
and in pain,
but none of them
so sad as those
left beside the grave.
the entrance to the tomb
by Serena Mossgraves
the door was closed
after the corpse was laid,
to keep the dark things out.
the entrance to the tomb
was meant to be used
only once in a lifetime,
for else the souls would
play jump rope forth and with.
Rotate,
nothing to stop it,
against the flow
in and out again.
the entrance
to the jail,
has no locks…
Just a hesitant reminder
that prisoners are supposed
to be stopped.
Pattimouse 