Burdens of war

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His eyes burned

Like the midday sun

And he wept with deep regret

For what he had done

 

There was no going back

Second chances didn’t exist

Not in times of war

When the enemy was in the midst

 

Stumbling along

He continued the mission

Fraught with guilt

Full of indecision

 

This was his punishment

For obeying his command

Living with the remorse

Inflicted by his hand

 

As innocent casualties

Littered the otherwise barren streets

Their bodies broken

Lying in slovenly heaps

 

The faultless people here

Had hopes they’d escape an attack

And he wished the hands of time

Could now somehow be forced back

 

The delicate balance of life

Had surely tilted the scales

And he shuffled along

Feeling as if he had somehow failed

 

The cost seemed too great

His heart broke in despair

Because of all the innocent lives

That he couldn’t save right there

 

Written by, Michelle Cook


Poetry prompt: His eyes burned like the midday sun.

Photo credit: Pixabay.com

 

 

 

Festival Fiasco

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Crowds of enthusiastic people

Stormed the rusty gates

Charged thrill seekers

Awaiting their fates

 

The fees were ample

And wallets ran dry

Prosperity flew away quickly

With faint whimpers and sighs

 

The sun was blazing

Most bodies were drenched

Thirsty dry mouths

Just couldn’t be quenched

 

Up and down all day

The clinky coasters they went

Folks screaming on wobbly rides

That were worn and bent

 

There were weird painted faces

Of strange scary clowns

And some were even wearing

The saddest of frowns

 

The air smelled of stale popcorn

And pink cotton candy

The carnival games they played

Were all but dandy

 

Frivolity and fun

Seemed to wax and wane

And the really long lines

Were a terrible pain

 

The kiddies they all smiled

But the parents just grinned

Thinking to themselves

Oh never again!

 

Written by, Michelle Cook


Poetry prompt: Up and down, the face of a scary clown

Photo credit: pixabay.com

 

 

 

 

Do you know?

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Do you know what you mean to me,

can you feel my love clinging to your heart?

 

Do I remind you enough each and every day,

of how much I’ve cared for you from the start?

 

Can you see the sparkle in my eyes,

the way I light up when you are near.

 

Do you fully understand this depth of love,

have I made myself perfectly clear?

 

Do you realize how much you amaze me,

by the things you say and do.

 

Well if it isn’t completely obvious yet,

here’s your reminder that I Love You!

 

Written by, Michelle Cook


Photo credit: pixabay.com

Under the influence of weirdness

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Dreaming of a long forgotten land

Where we go walking hand in hand

Fields of strawberries bask in the sun

Red ripe berries to be devoured by the ton

Pristine waterfalls saturate the rocky beds

As fairies fly gaily around our heads

It seems as if I have lost my mind

In this weird dreamy state where I now reside

 

Written by, Michelle Cook


Photo credit: pixabay.com

The onset of Autumn

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Autumn seemed determined

To arrive on time

Her metallic hue invigorated

The gentle breeze

And summer mournfully said

Her last farewell

As the first leaf fluttered

Lifelessly to the ground

Her rustic foliage danced

On the old withered boughs

Filtering soft glints of golden light

Through the swaying trees

And the bronzed leaves

Awaited their return

To their soft earthen sanctuary

From whence they were born

 

Written by, Michelle Cook


Poetry prompt: Golden light shone through the bronzed leaves of the trees.

Photo credit: Pixabay.com

Goodbye tears

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Her once tear streaked face

Now held a determined grimace

And her ambiguous gaze

Dared not surrender a single woe

Quite done with the days

Where misery ached to control her

Her heart now anchored firmly

In the midst of the coming storm

 

Written by, Michelle Cook


Poetry prompt – Goodbye tears.

Photo credit: Pixabay.com

The adversary of your heart

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He who stretches you and challenges you until you are broken

She who pushes you to the limits and then reels you back in for a passionate kiss

They have become the adversary of your heart

He is the one who demands more from you than you ever thought possible

She is the one who looks at you and sees all the potential which you yourself could never see

They have become the adversary of your heart

She, the opponent who strives to make you believe in yourself

He, the competitor who only wants to see you succeed

They have become the adversary of your heart

They are also your worst nightmare and your dream come true all in one

 

Written by, Michelle Cook


Photo credit: Pixabay.com

Forty-five

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So since I didn’t do a birthday post this year on my actual birthday, here’s one only five months late… Enjoy!  Lol… 😉

Forty-five seems fairly old

Your hair gets thinner

And your feet get cold

It’s the age you find wrinkles

You didn’t think would ever exist

And that stubborn heartburn

Just seems to nag and persist

You look forward to night sweats

Sounds like something you wear

But it’s really just you sweating

Right through to your underwear

The allover aches and pains

They frequently come and go

And sometimes you forget

Things you really ought to know

You frequent your local gym

Trying to lose those extra pounds

But it becomes hard to reach over

And you can barely touch the ground

You’ve tried all the fad diets

None of them have really helped at all

And so you cringe when the doctor says

You need to lower your cholesterol

There’s just nothing that wonderful

About turning the age of forty-five

I guess the biggest surprise is knowing

That somehow you’ve survived

 

Written by, Michelle Cook


Poetry prompt: Age 45.

GIF found at: Giphy.com

Time-worn photos

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Fragrances

Of times long past

Memories fixed

Behind shelved glass

 

Forgotten faces

Frozen in time

As the clock ticks forward

Clanging its chime

 

Who were these fanciful

Looking folks

Dressed in top hats

And fashionable cloaks

 

Time-worn photos

Too old to tell

Cast their alluring

And questioning spell

 

Written by, Michelle Cook


Photo credit: Pixabay.com

Poem: sunny nostalgia

An amazingly talented new blogger here. Visit Rachel’s blog and see for yourself! 😉

Reticent Writer

the sun envelops me,
its rays a scorching blanket, draped around my shoulders.
warmth seeps into my chest,
igniting my spirit, bringing my heart to life.

a gentle breeze caresses my skin,
I close my eyes and feel it cool upon my face.
a smile breaks free as nature’s soft embrace helps lift me,
up to a place where I can dream of summers past.

orchestral waves playing their sweet melody upon the sandy shore,
the refreshing mist welcome on hot salty skin.

endless beaches stretching out for miles ahead,
the sunset sand delicious underfoot.

lazy legs dangling from the quayside,
playful toes dancing magnified beneath the surface.

lush green meadows with weeping willows,
whispering promises of adventure and freedom.

sizzling coals and hazy laughter,
hearts swelling with weekend conviviality.

ice cold rapture sickly sweet on tongues,
a blissful respite from the endless heat.

echoes of shrieking children and garden…

View original post 66 more words

Destined – #RomanticTuesday

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Her dress was made of cotton

And smelt of sweet perfume

And her heavenly scent enticed him

On that endearing afternoon

 

An unfaltering gaze between them

Said everything they couldn’t say

And they laid there with hands clasped

On that bright blue summer day

 

His smile caused a flutter

And her heart began to soar

Convinced of his love

She wanted to keep him forevermore

 

Her expression amused him

And her affections gripped his soul

She was the only woman alive

Who had ever made him feel whole

 

Their connection was unmistakable

They seemed destined from the very start

So they dreamt of a future together

Where nothing would ever keep them apart

 

Written by, Michelle Cook

 


Poetry prompt: Her dress was made of cotton and smelt of sweet perfume.

Photo credit: Pixabay.com

 

Fragments of lost memories

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The bricks crumbled

As the sands of time decayed their subsistence

 

And the rain ran red

Mimicking the cries of every forgotten soldier

 

Earthy fragments of lost memories

Wound their way through the ghostlike grounds

 

Old heaps of shrapnel mingled

With rivers of blackened tears

 

The disheveled mess full of leftover remnants of war

And bodies which lay undiscovered

 

A multitude of sins left on display

As a torturous reminder

 

And still the battles continue

As history hasn’t remembered all it once lost

 

Written by, Michelle Cook


Photo credit: pixabay.com

Defining Character

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Her worn hands were tired

And so was her weary mind

She spent her days working

For the spoiled and unkind

 

Her days were long

And her nights were short

Yet through all the struggles

She remained a good sport

 

She tried her best

To satisfy every need

Of her rich employer

Who was laden with greed

 

Through the years

She remained faithful and kind

And everyone missed her

On the day she resigned

 

She still has not been forgotten

As she was loved for her gentle ways

Seems it’s our character which defines us

Even beyond our earthly days

 

Written by, Michelle Cook


Poetry prompt: Tired hands and mind.

Photo credit: Pixabay.com

Featured Writer – Heidi Baker

 

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Fully Their Own

Laundry can wait for morning.

Sleet bouncing on the rooftop is for pajamas,

yawning, soft music, letting legos in their piles

be uniquely organized floor ornaments.

I gather another brownie,

a second cup of coffee, my breath in one large motion

before curling up beside the space heater,

snug in a crocheted blanket.

Dark comes early, whispering, “Slow down, listen,

look up and see the children grow

a little more amazing

every minute.”

I stare so long each one asks, “Mom, what?”

I smile, just barely remembering we once shared a body,

then lightning-aware that these children

are fully their own.

 

Written by, Heidi Baker

 

To read more of Heidi’s lovely words, please visit her website at: http://heidibethbaker.weebly.com/

And you can also purchase her book on Amazon by clicking, here.


Photo credit: pixabay.com

Her one guilty pleasure

 

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As her pen touched the paper

Flames erupted from the ink which flowed

Writing was her one guilty pleasure

It was all she had ever known

 

And the erotic words danced pleasurably

On each sultry and seductive page

This was the role she was chosen for

To dance freely on a paper stage

 

Written by, Michelle Cook


Poetry prompt: Her pen touched the paper, flames erupted from the ink that flowed.

Photo credit: pixabay.com