Aspiring to be the best at writing. Poetry lover, haiku and free verse to be precise, I hope to one day master
Sometimes the journey gets weary, Rest is imminent, The reflection pensive... Like a soldier in hostile combat, I will persevere. The mission transparent now more than ever. I love writing, I love poetry, I love being unique, The race is not always for the swift. I will reach the finish line! As for now, In this intricate relay, I've only touched the tip of the baton. 💥GIVING UP IS NOT AN OPTION💥 To those here with me in my journey, a sincere THANK YOU ❤
Happy International Women's Day!!! ❤ POEM ⬇ PURE AND TRUE Every day Beauty becomes her Beckons her To walk perplexed valley Or harrowing alley Here to fulfill her destiny She is fire on ice Tender meat to white rice Her vocal Direct language clear and concise She is love Tapestry inside her Weaving her To a steadfast teacher Broad shouldered councillor First response surgeon and doctor Can surely multiply With positive supply Let her soar Caterpillar turned butterfly She is love And everyday As an infinite light More and more Beauty becomes her...❤❤❤ (c) Monica St Hillaire, 2023. #internationalwomensday #localpoetry #trinilingo #trinidialect #Trinidadandtobago #woman #beauty #strongwomen #wordsmith0412
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.
warm liquid sunshine
interspersed water ripples
full picnic basket
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.
Iridescent entwined beauty
True magnetic force
As a nautical ship steering
Full boisterous course
Era of brass turned to golden
Blurred signs of olden
Emerald leaves upon this earth
Assent to your worth
Woven fine thread so arduous
Joyfully combust
You were loved…
From near and afar
Ms Hedy Lamarr
Carnation flower full in bloom
Vision of glory
Eyes were doors to a labyrinth
Of melancholy
Versatility undenied
Accolades aside
Emerald leaves upon this earth
Assent to your worth
Flair never whispered to ponder
Should there be wonder
You were loved…
From near and afar
Ms Hedy Lamarr
Mighty tide viciously ebbing,
Opaque world became.
Demise of withered rose petals,
Timeless endured name.
Paramount innovator,
Hold supreme structure.
Emerald leaves upon this earth,
Assent to your worth.
Sheer fairness concurred with trailblaze.
Amidst dusty haze,
You were loved…
From near and afar,
Ms Hedy Lamarr.
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.
A rotating prison…
This desolate dungeon,
All the while my smile,
Creating illusion.
Slurry speech tongue heavy,
Sun rising already,
Dismal road toting load,
Bag of woes I carry.
Isolated corner,
Not one clue or answer,
Yet you dare say you care,
In bleakest hemisphere…
Don’t come with the weight of judgement,
Cause I have no room left to spare.
No prismatic rainbow…
Golden petals in sight,
Amidst the flight of night,
Journey in black and white.
Palpitations and sweat,
Alter ego a threat,
Breath of air a nightmare,
Solitude and regret.
Engulfed in morbid fear,
My flesh I cannot wear,
Yet you dare say you care,
In dreary atmosphere…
Don’t come with the weight of judgement,
Cause I have no room left to spare.
(c) Monica St Hillaire.
This furrowed mountain I climb My reflection has been lost Hollowness I harbor No wandering fugitive But a carbon copy Of my melancholy mindset Willing to dance among Soft twilight rays Like a barefooted gypsy Flower child of the night Gesticulating to a fading azure Sturdy in my stance Divinity will soon come But for now These exquisite daisies interlaced Among midnight tresses Will befittingly suffice (c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.
Pain of a mimicked heart
Agonizing whirlwind
Jesters know the lyrics
Mimed tune for a mocking raven
Dismembered and torn
Exhausted from dangling
Repeatedly to puppeteers delight
Seized and dominated
In arduous angst
Strings perforated within
New rhythm being born
Of faint palpitations
Decaying remains surround
Ravaged carcass existent
laying motionless on the ground
Irregular beats obvious transgressor
Leaves room to ponder
Myriad of thoughts brew
In a subliminal mind
Does fate even compensate
Will a rain shower suffice
Exact amount that awakens
Wilted wildflowers dazed
From scorched brazen sunlight
Scrutiny feels like
Final nail on the coffin
Paling heartbeats
Infrequent and throbbing
A mere mortal’s prelude of
Walking an unending tightrope
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.
Three steps from the wishing well... Beige hills fuels this somber aura. Softly bow down my head, In succession of falling teardrops. Silver coin dazzle eluded my sadness, No gazing of any rippled motion, Glare of sunshine was my companion. Translucent words within me, Crystalline and lucid, Yet a gripping joust deters any utter, Or repressed remark from these frigid lips. Sub conscious eager to constrain, Heartbreak of a time bygone, Any reprisal assuredly condemned. No repetition of the past, Along this dreary reality. In sequential fashion, As a mockingbird flew by, Beam of lucent sunshine was solemnly, My one and only companion. (c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.
Woman, dry your tears and cry no more, Not oblivious to your trials before, The weight of the world is not yours to bear, Speak to God without unease and fear. Amidst this flowing river, Make peace with your creator, Immobile wounds do not condone, Leave your burdens by this river stone. Woman, dry your tears and cry no more, Like clustered debris upon a sandy shore, May your pain be successfully buried, Answers you have often queried. Cast them in crystal water, Dawn of your ever after, As a queen departing her throne, Leave your burdens by this river stone. Woman, dry your tears and cry no more, Here in nature's solace you can rest assure, Now relinquish and instantly release, Heartache will promptly decrease. As the whitest doves fly by, In a celestial sky, Signifies you are not alone, Leave your burdens by this river stone. (c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021
tinythoughtspoetry 