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



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.


(photos from pixabay)

That vengeful strike of the tongue,
contrived to permanently wound,
Those colossal pillars of emotion.
Connected to the heart and mind.
Imperishable thought of what was spoken.
Where did the time go?
Emotional scars consume my inner being,
An abyss is now my home.
Can I be healed by the ray of light,
I desperately seek?
Can forgiveness be my glimmer of hope?
Legions I cannot compress.
All from a concealed weapon,
Waiting to attack with words of despair.
Beware of any duel it engages in,
Damages can be a blemish,
Forever lodged within.

Monica St Hillaire.