Systemic in a paramount system
Alluring and perplexed
Leaves do not conform
In their whirlwind spiral
Ascending to an overcast sky
My every premeditated step
Bears no silhouette in the dark
Invisible remnants of shattered glass
But that boisterous noise
Warm welcome relief over
This speechless silence
Infiltrating dim somber perimeter
A forbidden space
Supremacy comes full circle
Repetition is imminent
As clustered dewdrops begin to fall
Staunch methodical madness
Only a few can master
(c) Monica St Hillaire.
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…
Write my name in this moistened sand
White lilies are fading
Simultaneously with the utterance
Of words abound in solemnity
Carve our dates between the gnarled oak tree
Robins flew away a minute too soon
But I kept each and every memory
Savored that happy space
Sketch my face in the corners of your mind
Whilst we reign in existence
Appoint me your hero
Battle any encroaching dark force
Armored and aligned we must be
Trotting through this portal of destiny
Me for you and you for me
Signed and sealed marvelling in eternity
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2022.
Spiraling but in full control
Momentum a shadow length away
A spherical supernova
Adamant in ascension
Staunchly fixated on
Matching energies and
Correspondent aura with
That of a burning sun
How golden will I become
A colossal silhouette
In a monumental sky
Brilliant light that is bearable
Its peerless glare
Culminates after a tumultuous wind
Inner being shattered
Like that of broken glass
A tale to tell
Just before casting them away
To a perplexed sea...
(c) Monica St Hillaire.
Lest I forget Breaking free this pivotal morn Marvel in metamorphosis Doused in redemption Remembered the dark night Encroached in cascade fashion My space in destiny now depleted A weight so unendurable My head elevated to the lull sky The goal to feel less constricted Even for a brief moment Does a butterfly recall Any remnants from its cocoon An alluring apparition From the faded chrysalis Allow the sequence to conform Like a string of priceless pearls This world is ready Dormancy has died Life will indeed go on Let my wings flutter and soar Interlaced with a sunrise Ardorned in brilliance I am breaking free
Erroneous...
Spasms like a wave at sunset
Gently uniting with the sandy shore
Serendipitous collision maybe...
A tender to the touch feel
But you are gone...
Crystalline illusion that is fading fast
No prismatic rainbow
That hoists the pot of gold
What am I to receive from a naive heart?
Turmoil grasping for navigation
You are gone...
Time will indeed wane
Hills and valleys await to greet me
For I radiate warmth
Monarchs shall flutter their wings merrily
But for now no whistling from the wind
You are gone...
(c) Monica St Hillaire.
Moonlight mystique, Traverses the air. The mocking bird is my friend. His song comforts my silence, Empathy is not far away… As stars take their rightful place, In an extensive sky. Predestination seals its beauty, Alluring in their prime. Darkness won’t ever crumble, To the lull of a forthcoming dawn. Sing mocking bird sing, Lyrics need not triumph… Endurance I can muster, Hold my rightful place, As median to what is drawing near, And what is left behind…
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.
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.
tinythoughtspoetry 