Gleam into swift sham of a night
Transit a meagre mile away
Sleeping like a lion cub
Moon on a lambent high
Copious are the scenarios
One can't help but detect
Whilst glowing of coals cease to exist
Moments in captured time
To awaken any subconscious mind
A contemporary prism shaped corner
Designed to annihilate yesterday's war
Conceived to hearten tomorrow's peace
With every emotional rush
A tempestuous roar would avail
Dance to a bonfire's rhythm
Even in its square perimeter
As daylight emerges
Watch the flaming embers burn
Amidst its golden radiance
Embrace the jovial mystery
For it is short lived
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.
Footsteps along a tranquil bay Daunting task trying to catch A crimson sun’s prompt departure Beauty worthy of an encore Tomorrow a forever wait Mountains bring forth no justice Echoes to imminent future prohibited Like a censored boomerang Beckons the dusky semblance Of a quiet yet placid bay Cast away callousness Time capsules eradicated For a walk to remember Poised and in stride After all In the magic of the present It is all we have
She wore a red dress today… Not to accentuate the scorching fire within, Or even sneer at every flaming ember. Ultimately the sunset hue was her fancy, Boundary of daylight. Motionless yet marvelling at its ambience, She firmly pondered, If such a borderline can be pieced, Near her wounded heart. Lodged in captivity, A taunting perimeter, Adorned in solid armour. Just a fiery crimson flatters the horizon, Where mere mortals gaze in pure fondness. Though in reality, A whimsical median, The story far from finished., Fate rests like bedecked poppies In a methodical maneuver, Waiting… Her intuition works overtime, Movement is imminent and inevitable. She wore a red dress today…
Permit the dewdrops to fall, Command ascending sunbeams, Flowers might duly curtsey, Should luck bear witness. Be still and vigilant, In a compound world, An engrossed realm, Expeditious pace of reality. Agile wind rhythmically blows, Grasping change with all its might. Night rests in solemn peace, Over an enigmatic horizon, Among kaleidoscopic sparkles, Forever to dangle at the cusp of day. The medium established as a blank page, Ambiguous maybe… Shrewd demands to cease the moment. Challenge that inner being to make memories, To ingest life’s complexities, Awaiting the unknown, Exhale every bygone, To just simply and earnestly be…
Supernova supreme, You came and went. Minute was the moment, But the memory everlasting. Immortality surrounds your name, An unforgettable beauty. Woman, your star still shines, As bright as the morning sun. The warmest smile, Could dim any diamond glare. How you were loved, A flame so everlasting, Infinity will never be the same. The goal indeed conquered, An impression so deep. Woman, your star still shines, As bright as the morning sun. In an original fashion, That can only belong, To a rose like you.
There’s a misdemeanor in the moon… Trickery through swift howling wind, Equivalent to vast illusions, Of a descending waterfall. Tainted in ambiguity, Yet mystified amidst exquisite ambience. Dredging nomadic feelings, To roam in an extraordinary zeal, And converse with smoky mountainous peaks. Relaying thoughts that engrossed one’s mind, On the dynamics of this callous world. Fully aware to continuously dance, Like that of daring gypsies, Twirling at lightning speed, Unbeknownst of an encroaching tomorrow. Ample time some might say, To surely interweave and fuse, Among these phenomenal elements, Laden in flawed perfection.
A reawakening so refined,
Unblemished retreat deep in silence,
Mannerisms willfully suppress mayhem.
An outcry lingers to ride the cape,
Of an encroaching sunset,
Blanketed in prismatic gold sequence.
Sleep like a rare Morning Glory,
Abiding in discipline,
Delayed in eloquence.
Much is to be exhibited,
Pungent smell of revival,
No glacial falling star,
Among the shadowy night,
Can ever mask.
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.
Why does one thirst near the water well?
Or shed a tear near the salty sea?
Contemporary ounces of perplexity,
Yearning for what the dawn brings.
We've yet to catch a falling star,
Discover the precise end of a rainbow,
In all its chromatic glory,
While scouting for tomorrow's corner,
Threading light and subtle,
Catch and seize the present,
Thirst for the greater good,
Cry to heal one's soul.
Scripted chronicles await,
Interlaced with serendipitous moments,
Amidst destiny's hour.
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.
Oblivious to crashing waves, Sodden sand beckons. An enthralling call, Drawing me further away, From desiccated landscapes. Mountain tops in circular motion, Become miniature with each passing minute. Purplish hue radiates abundant beauty, Amidst its coy revelation. In a brief, expedient pause, My silhouette stood tall in grandeur, Like that of the Trojan Horse. Unparalleled in the moment, For my fight is finished. Refusing to replicate the ramblings, Of a buoyant militant, To a place intolerant of my being. A diminished colony, Where magnolias remain closed, Destined to wither away. Unbridled, adamant stride accelerates, Fate isn’t held hostage to a mirage, Coursing through a parched dessert. May the sand forever quench my feet, Synchronously embracing every footprint. As I welcome raucous waves, Connected are we, Thriving and free.
Slowly orbiting out of a mediocre mind Vigorous flowers remain in awe While the grass remain still Like dead simpletons The canvas is naked Bare and beige Not a moment too soon Before colored diffusion Makes its grand appearance Timing is of supreme importance Fate will never be a bystander Or a gnarled stepping stone Bedazzled are my feet Shimmering amongst a tepid sun Chilled filmy mist come to wave at me Mischievous wind in all its glory Yet still I ascend Not relying on a rapid curtain call Even after a spectacular performance Yet still I ascend