BOUNTIFUL

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

I am a wordsmith,

Versatility overrun,

The corners of my mind.

Prolific and exuberant,

Permit my narration,

Witness these fruits fall.

Like a methodical chronicle,

Or cosmic carousel,

May every chord resonate.

Bearer of warmth,

And solace to the downtrodden,

The shining catalyst,

To the beloved and betrothed.

An angelic advocate,

The estranged scouts,

This earth to find.

Cryptic messages,

Stern intellectual maze,

A sapiosexual’s delight.

These words shall twirl,

Like rose petals in spring,

Dandelion seeds ,

Rotating in the blustery wind,

Over and over again,

Whilst the vast fruits fall…

Join me in my journey.

I am a wordsmith.

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

A DATE WITH DESTINY

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

Meet me near the melting sun,

To watch the brilliance of tinted clouds,

Cease to exist.

Here our love will blossom,

It has been concealed too long.

You are the lily in my life,

I want this world to know.

We’ll keep our eyes fixated,

On the mountain top,

Till the last glimmer fades…

Eloquent words I solemnly utter,

Professing this undying,

Love for you.

Daylight will wane,

As the silhouette of the night,

Encircle us both.

I delicately draw you near,

Moments before our love,

This unwavering supernova,

Illuminates the shadowy darkness,

Replenishing the twinkling sky.

The descending sun,

Is where we shall meet.

As the day retreats for sleep,

Awaken is our newfound love.

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

LIAISON

PHOTO BY PIXABAY
Cupid flew over my house last night,
That winged silhouette was you...
Your playful chuckle echoed in,
The dead of night.
Arrows harmonized,
Like a golden wind chime.
My rattling window was no match,
For that glorious sound.
Discreet you were not,
Overflown with passionate thoughts.
Perspiration trickles,
'Neath  the glacial stars.
I crave a touch that is tender...
Stumbled upon,
A whirlwind of emotions,
A slave at their beckon call.
You mischievous maker!
It just had to be you.
Who else owns a potent,
So strong?
Who? πŸ’˜πŸ’˜πŸ’˜

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

HEAVEN SENT

PHOTO BY PIXABAY
You are my diamond honey...
My perfectly imperfect gem.
The radiation you give,
Transcends within me,
To a point of no return.
Oblivious, like a lamb,
That has strayed from the fold.
Amidst the rough and rubble,
Among the condemned,
The unforsaken...
I would discover this most,
Precious and astounding jewel.
Profuse in flaws and perfection.
Bittersweet -
The taste in life you offer.
A balance and weight I endure,
With sheer amazement.
The hand you hold,
This very moment,
Is forever here to stay.
As soon as the dawn breaks,
Let's be the paradigm,
Of this new day.
Quintessential diamond,
You are to me, honey...
And I couldn't love you more.


(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

WOMAN…

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

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.

BROKEN PIECES

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

These eyes have cried

A thousand tears

Sporadic as an evening shower

The periwinkles are drenched

But the grass does not shine

An overflowing fountain

I can no longer suppress

Not a dime to my name

For my one true wish

Speechless I have become

Constant quiver of the tongue

Restrain me from climbing out

Of a hole that is dismal and dark

Surely whatever I touch

Never turns to gold

Like a star that shone bright

Standing victorious

My sense of hearing

Is in impeccable form

I heard the slamming of the door

A daunting echo

I will never forget

Knowing without

A shadow of a doubt

You were gone

Never to return

A love once united

A life now divided

Yet in this existence

We must live

You will live without my love

And I will live with your choice

Monica St Hillaire, 2020.

OASIS…

PHOTO BY PIXABAY
These hands...
Harsh and worn, like a lonesome seaside rock
Diminutive in stature but with,
An overwhelming depth has consumed,
Dreams and fears... even the tears.
Time circulated like a roller coaster.
Come closer...
Convinced you know the story,
For you were there with me.
Your love...
Golden bright, as an authentic morning sunrise.
Can never outgrow the grandeur of spaciousness,
These hands have reserved for you,
Laughter with sad... even the bad.
Years flew like petals in the wind.
Come closer...
Let's both narrate the story,
For you were there with me.


(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2020.

MASQUERADE BALL…

PHOTO BY PIXABAY
Foolish as it may seem,
I am in love with a memory.
That reeked of a charade,
Hide and seek,
The kind children play.
You left like a summer's end,
Dredging all my warmth.
My hands remained clenched,
For you were gone.
Evanescent clouds before my eyes,
My faith as big as Gibraltar,
Now a sunken pebble.
I await the pale moonlight,
To eagerly catch some hope.
Inside is just too empty...
The hollow sound is boisterous.
As I stare into your eyes,
I anticipated my reflection.
But you turned toward the meadow,
So I could not see.
Even a broken mirror,
Would have made me happy.
As I muster courage to move on,
Walk these dim lit streets,
I sometimes turn back.
Bent on seeing your face.
Convinced that I,
Made no mistake in,
Unconditionally loving you.
And foolish as it may seem,
I still do...

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2020.