Forsaken

1

When I stepped out today,

I was not expecting the ocean to look so gray,

Nor the cries of the gulls

To match so perfectly with the outline of distant oceanliner’s hulls.

 

There are birds flying high above,

And part of me wishes Peace would send me her Dove.

Though I am so busy sitting here, writing this poem

That perchance I might miss the omen.

 

The clouds are collecting secrets

On the nature of human weakness;

They are amassing for war at their gathering,

While I paint them and wonder if this is the right moment to be capturing.

 

I am probably giving them more fodder,

But ‘tis true that I am the Mother Earth’s daughter,

And I could not resist the temptation

To watch them as they imagine the world below, forsaken.

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Grey

It was the end of May and
My love was in full bloom,
Lush and vibrant and full
Of musical moments of merriment,
Soft and comfortable and
Shining like the Northern Lights,
Beautiful and brash and
Everything I’d ever wanted.

June was taking a bow as
The curtain came to a close,
And my love grew gentler and
Sweeter, lovelier,
If you will,
But the roses wither, the music dies,
Light fades, and
My love was no more.