FLICKER OF FLAMES

PHOTO FROM PIXABAY

Temporary embers
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.

IN REAL TIME

PHOTO BY RON WHITAKER UNSPLASH

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

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022

HOSTAGE

PHOTO FROM PIXABAY

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…

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.

MORNING MAZE

PHOTO FROM PIXABAY

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…

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.

CLEAR CUT

PHOTO FROM PIXABAY

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.

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.

BEAUTIFUL DISASTER

PHOTO FROM PIXABAY

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.

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.

UNSHACKLED

PHOTO FROM PIXABAY

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.

HALFWAY THERE

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

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.

PROOF OF LIFE

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

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.

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.

LARGER THAN LIFE

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

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

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022