each syllable drips to the page
setting words to hearts ablaze,
penning poetica is both art
and passion sincere.
I believe that I will pick up
my pen and drop the rhyme
I love so dear.
Ars Poetica April 2
Category: poetry
Wednesday Whispers
Moonlight Muse
by Serena Mossgraves
As the moonlight illuminates
the world around me,
that is when my muse awakens.
Though the whole world
is closing its eyes,
and I find myself wanting
to settle in weak and weary…
the muse is insistent
I pickup the pen
and bleed again .
April PAD challenge Day 1
the prompt can be found here
Ars poetica April 1
Am I just a fool
for wanting to write
the verse freely?
to weave the words
into the poetic,
pick my pen up
and let poetry flow.
Monday Poetry
Involuntary Movements
by Patricia Harris
Remaining still is easier said
than it is for me to do,
I am made of gelatin and
thoughts straight from the
ocean's waves.
Involuntary Movements
are almost expected
when you are as chaotic
as I.
Wednesday Whispers
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.
Monday Poetry
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.
world poetry day
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.
world poetry day
Forgotten Lullabies
by
Patricia Harris
you once gathered lullabies
pretending that you cared,
but how quickly were they forgot
when it no longer suited your life?
forgotten lullabies are
but the memories
children fight with
into adulthood.
Wednesday Whispers
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 .
Pattimouse 