wistfully she gazes out to sea
as the waves crest and kiss the skies
missing that which you can’t see
but you feel her longing
deep in her disguise
the home she left
behind to
claim her
prize
*A nonet is a nine line poem. The first line containing nine syllables, the next line has eight syllables, the next line has seven syllables. That continues until the last line (the ninth line) which has one syllable. Nonets can be written about any subject. Rhyming is optional.
i have a tattoo between my breasts
inked there for a boy i once loved
long gone now though ink remains
forever there it taints
constant reminder
innocence fades
taunting me
my heart
caged
*Nonnet: A nonnet is a type of poem which has nine lines, with the first line having 9 syllables, the second 8 syllables, the third 7 until the ninth line has only one. Some nonnets may also have an iambic meter (stress on every other syllable).
Raindrops fall on the roof above us
The winds sigh through the window seams
Nestled beneath warm covers
Skin to skin, lost in dreams
All that love demands
Lost in twined hands
in safety
you see
me
*A nonet is a nine line poem. The first line containing nine syllables, the next line has eight syllables, the next line has seven syllables. That continues until the last line (the ninth line) which has one syllable. Nonets can be written about any subject. Rhyming is optional.
**First published on June 15, 2013
it’s the yearning that hits me the worst
when all I think about is you
what you’re doing, where you are –
are you thinking of me?
and in the silence
that follows, should
i believe
what i
see?
on this day two years ago, he died,
driven home from the hospital
for it was cheaper to die
at home, not surrounded
by his children for
they were too far
from home, now
on their
own.
there’s a storm brewing deep inside her
rumbling like thunder in the dark,
seeking release lest it rips
right through her, tearing her
troubled soul apart,
till nothing’s left
but broken
bits of
heart
Just a Wednesday nonet…
For the first time in a long, long time
she felt beautiful in her eyes
her lips red from his kisses
arms warm from his embrace
long after he left
the bed still warm
but only
where he
lay
It’s the longest day of the year and
you’re at the cusp of something big,
life-changing and breathtaking
it’s what you always wanted
to do; so break a leg,
knock’em dead, do
what you love,
and stay
true.
Morrighan's Muse 