
cardigan teeters
white chrysanthemum plummets
cheekbone clamminess
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.
cardigan teeters
white chrysanthemum plummets
cheekbone clamminess
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.
Palpitations of a weary heart
A partial eclipse…
Gradually holding on to existence
Meandering towards the hilltop
No laughter from the merry men
As blurred mist encroaches
Faith a minute grain
But the soil is not barren
The ground not parched
Like a nomadic gypsy
Barefoot and brazen
Gravitate…
Dance amidst the wispy air
Melancholy will die a slow death
Bury it by the wayside
This ground is not parched
Leaves boldly glimmer
Though sometimes
Replenished by teardrops
Dance gypsy dance
The heart will endure…
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.
Tears of joy from Uranus Descend upon the earth today An alignment so divine Two hearts destined to be together Fate shall reveal its face Beneath the pale blue sky A swan gracefully glides Leaving behind sequential ripples Perfection in this flawed world Gifted to be a witness of A warm moment of bliss Oblique is the gaze Color of beauty in a prismatic form All that's left to do is sigh If what is to transpire Is better than this present time Bated breath will be impossible to subdue The soul already hungers May the glimmer of the sun forever stand still The fairytale begins now (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.
The locket broke today... Abrupt fall caused its untimely demise. The timing is uncanny, For you have now left my life, A bond sworn never to be broken. Standing along this pathway of cobblestone, I see a resemblance to my heart. It just has to be the same, Crushed and uneven inside of me. The flowers are all wilted, I shun from the evening sunsets. Shudder to think at times, What these feelings can spiral into. If this is forever and day, Like your previous solemn vow, Then I am forever trapped in a Pandora's box. Screaming at the top of my voice, Which is to no avail. What corner of this earth am I to turn to? Wished that locket did not break today, Firm in my belief it was the one keepsake, That harboured wondrous moments. The one keepsake... That brought genuine solace, In its bittersweet mystique, The time swiftly rolled on by, I was one hour closer, To being reborn... (c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.
Profound silence
Amplifies with each passing moment
Dimness of the room
Takes on a deeper shade
So concentrated
It restricts my breathing
The very same passage
That was once abundant with air
Absence can be an intricate culprit
Like a flower in the cold winter
Withering your defences
Elapsed time
In this whirlwind of confusion
I desire any sign that comes
Any light in this surreal tunnel
Trickle of sun rays
Piercing through the old cracks
Lodged within the wall
A light so miniature and vague
But immense and fair in meaning
These fictitious shackles
Will be removed
This solitude I endure
Expeditiously
Will cease and desist
( c) Monica St Hillaire 2021.
Listen carefully,
You’ll hear the somber song,
In my sadness.
That piercing falsetto,
Shatters the mirrored doorway.
Tears stream down,
Rigid and swift.
An enigmatic flow,
Unaware of their fate…
They were in firm solidarity,
With my heartbreak.
Synchronization so metrical;
Feeling like a puppet on a string.
These masterminds,
Of this dreary hole,
I now dwell in…
As I sit here,
Doleful and dejected,
The rhythmic chant,
Consumes inside of me.
Glum quivers,
Unending…
(c) Monica St Hillaire. 2021.
A hollow in my heart.
Dungeon borders my soul,
Heavily guarded by an army of woes.
Dejection tramples on my spirit,
Kindred connections disbarred.
There is murkiness in the distance,
The road marred with desolation.
Oh this deafening silence!
Pungent taste of reality;
A realm I now dwell in.
Compression infests my movement,
But I persevere.
Stare without blinking,
Yawn without sleeping…
This pain is heavy.
Yet the notion to proceed persists within.
Song of the Sparrow,
In the touching distance.
Whistle of serenity; a sound of hope.
In an instant, my despondency effaced,
Like a mid evening fog.
I exhaled, with such precision.
The soldiers retreated and left for home,
Just as I was going home…
Never will I look back.
Should the pathway behind crumble,
Like an ill-fated stack of dominoes,
I will not see.
With the winds of change blowing at my side,
A singing Sparrow to symbolically guide.
Forward motion is now my stride…
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.
She was golden
Long before the rising sun
One treasure chest
You never want sunken
Epiphany
The pieces fit perfectly
Her bosom
A cradle to the innocent
Your burdens
Weightless
To her ever caring heart
In full bloom
Flower for every season
It’s quite okay
Hand her the rocks
Undoubtedly
She will find the diamonds
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.