THE LOCKED DOOR

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

Rejection...
Intricate pathway of redirection.
With fastidious precision,
Navigating to your momentous destination.
In this candid declaration,
Heed this crucial assertion.
Delve into this submission.
In rigid locomotion,
Cast away all procrastination.
Assume the position,
Move forward in vast progression.
In this exact acceleration,
Amidst a brilliant scintillation,
Limpid is the horizon.
Rejection...
A maneuvered miscalculation,
One way maze extension,
Toward fate's intention.

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

CLOAK OF JUDAS

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

Worn cloth albeit of beads and sequins,

Woven and interlaced of a distinct textile.

Custom made for the vile creature,

Who dons an impostrous smile,

In hope that the fox will cry.

Leads his flock to an arid desert,

Fruitless and impoverished,

Where lioness grow manes.

They walk the beat.

Only lull speaks volumes.

River stream a horizon’s touch away,

These parched lips quiver.

Vinegar is the taste,

Just before it all vanishes.

Is this a mirage gone awry?

Do you add insult to my confusion?

No stench of ignorance here,

This is not bliss!

Walking this cracked surface,

Naked in truth and integrity,

And you stride alongside,

Clothed in deceit and dishonesty,

I visualize ending this,

Antagonizing relay race.

The baton shall fall.

You see…

Forthrightness always creeps in,

Like an innocent child,

Waiting anxiously to be held.

No revelation to my enemies,

Will be made.

You are never to kiss this cheek.

Despair has left a scar upon my back,

A colossal pillar of strength,

Materializes within me.

Samson you are not.

Weakness becomes you,

And withering is imminent.

Impending arrests are for naught,

The army has retired.

Bare will be the palm of your hands,

For there are no pieces of silver,

To collect.

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

Featured

THAT WISE BIRD

PHOTO BY PEXELS

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.

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. 

EPIPHANY

PHOTOS FROM PIXABAY

Know you must leave the table,
When love is served no more.
When you hunger for affection,
Thirst for attention...
That bough you rested on,
Poised and asserted, has been broken.
Never to be mended again,
But your famished soul is reluctant.
How can you stay when the vessel is empty?
Permit dignity to win this battle.
Strength will creep in like a thief in the night,
Your love was never jealous; let life be.
You were meant to flourish,
May you never wither away waiting... yearning.
This table is bare as can be my friend,
Never come back here again.
Allow life's whirlwind to move you,
To a place where love is given freely.
Know you must leave the table,
When love is served no more.


(c) Monica St Hillaire , 2019.

REBORN

POETRY

Image by Kei Rothblack from Pixabay

You love me no more,
But the flowers smell the same.
I hungered for that love;
My soul wondered in the Ocean.
I hastily grasped for life.
The message in a bottle appeared;
Said I was my worst enemy.
Is this perilous end my destiny?
Sensations now surround my heart,
Ring round magnetic poles;
My aurora beamed so bright!
Control I redeemed,
The road ahead was clear.
I breathe fresh air,
At last I am free;
A new me...

(c) Monica St Hillaire , 2019