LEGEND

PHOTO BY PIXABAY




Intermittently,
The dead of night,
Beckons the call,
Of drowning silence,
That inevitably infiltrates,
The zealous mind…
Laying in bed,
Passive median to,
Dream and reality,
Gently gliding in,
Steadfast trance.
A defining moment,
Luminosity in my Eureka,
Embedded in the epiphany,
Enraptures inside my head.
I oppose the astral night,
And gloomy day…
Metaphors magically fall.
But there is a chronological,
Method to my madness,
A song for my sorrows,
And praises for the beauty,
That intrigues the soul.
In these 2 am predicaments,
I will pause for the motion.
The corner stones I see.
I will build my foundation,
Long live poetry..

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

TIMELESS

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

When the being passes on,
Departs this earthly life,
Soars into the hereafter.
Leaving behind a husk,
Of flesh and bone,
Hollow and foreign,
In front of weeping eyes.
The heart oblivious,
Filled beyond capacity,
Just as the day before,
When the spirit burned bright.
Perpendicular angles,
On opposite ends,
Contrary realms,
Infest sparingly in my head.
Inundated in thought,
My heart pulsated,
While yours stood still…
But this presence I feel,
Unshakeable and rigid,
I know deep down,
Is the fire of your soul.
Its validity infinite,
As my love for you…
You are here with me,
Inexplicably diffused,
Intricately manoeuvred,
In the gentle evening breeze.
The brightest star at night,
Aligning with my every stride.
Navigator to my intuition,
You lead me to the fountain.
These joyous elements,
Caress my sanity.
Snippets and fragments,
Systematic proof,
And authentic prelude,
Of immortality.

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

FORWARD EVER

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

My faith blindfolded,
Credence camouflaged,
From this ardent love,
And fiery passion,
I have deep down for you.
Walking the tightrope,
To a blissful Utopia,
I leave dubious speculation,
Behind my shoulders.
Like a withered flower,
On a porous rock.
Spirited procreation awaits,
Spawn of a fervid twin flame.
Underneath satin clouds,
Among resplendent trees,
Where sunsets are a myth.
Love will flourish,
As the eternal blaze,
Continuously burns.
The tightrope I shall walk,
In my ebony aura,
Guided by this,
Immovable seedling,
Fixated inside of me.

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.