The Perfect Color

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Robin’s egg blue
Takes me back to you

You were the loveliest creature
I memorized your every feature

But cornflower days
Were never long stays

I had you for just a short while
Amidst the decaying dandelion pile

You should’ve had more
A bit of forest green to explore

Instead the pacific blue
Became your life-long hue

Those sea green and periwinkle days
Formed all of your mahogany ways

You stayed purple mountain majesty true
To your olive green and cadet blue

Carnation pink and brick red brown
Followed you into the burnt orange ground

And bittersweet left the taste of gray
As the sky-blue in your eyes faded away

 

© 2018 Michelle Cook

*Just needed to repost this today. Been thinking of my grandfather and his patriotism. He was my hero and loved this country more than anybody else I’ve ever known. He gave me my love for the United States of America and taught me to never say an ill word about our country. I love you so much grandpa. You were a rare gem in this world and will never be forgotten by me and all who knew you. May you rest in peace today and always.

Foredoomed

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I recognize your face
Longing for freedom
Submerged in a life
Forbidden of change

The mirror stares back
Unyielding in its curse
For destiny cannot deny
What the universe allows

To forsake the chosen course
Is as foolhardy as the thought
And death would surely enjoy
The aftermath of the volition

So count your numbered days
And live them while you can
The voyage to the other side
Will never carry you home

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/desktop-people-human-hand-man-3170198/

Stop and Listen

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Stop and listen
Hear the sound
New life teeming
All around

Look at the fields
The sky, the earth
All so lovely
Full of rebirth

Listen to the ocean
And the stoic geese
Notice the beauty
Find your inner peace

See the world
Through brand new eyes
What you observe
Might be a surprise

Stop for a moment
Catch your breath
Plenty to live for
Before life meets death

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Finished

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At the peak of the crest
She’s tossed aside
Flung carelessly
Violently
Without regard
Against jagged rocks
And hollow crevices
Where life once teemed
With awe and discovery
Her battered body
Lies forsook
Bloodied and bruised
Lifeless and forgotten
Her daggered flesh
Barely responding
As the salty spray bites
Licking at her wounds
Washing away the evidence
Of a vindictive heart
And she gives up the fight
Succumbing to the void
As the tidepools shimmer
Beneath a forlorn moon
Her spirit at last
Drifting away
Soundlessly
Serenely
On the wisp of a thread
Life reclaimed

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Defenseless

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The burden he bore
Gave no time for refute
He’d been given a job
One could not dispute

And poor Lady Jane
In her ashen condition
Seemed far beyond
Any hope of volition

Not a single wish
Could change her fate
The course was set
Her breath too late

And the Lady in wait
Sorrowfully reclined
Pearls in hand
No peace of mind

The room stood still
As time captured the end
Poor Lady Jane
Not a soul would defend

© 2018 Michelle Cook


Photo credit:  https://www.wikiart.org/en/paul-delaroche/the-execution-of-lady-jane-grey-1833

 

Window of warning

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Window of warning
Opened above
Rays of sunshine
Warmth of love

Voice of reasoning
Calling her name
Beseeching her to leave
A life of shame

Reminder of things
Futures to come
Imploring her to remember
What cannot be undone

Choices, decisions
Whirred through her head
Her choosing too late
For she was already dead

© 2018 Michelle Cook


For a full month of writing prompts, click here!  Window of warning

Bavarian cream dreams

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She dreamt of sweeties
Candies galore
Along with mounds of cookies
Piled on the floor

There were licorice laces
Lying all about
And candy corns
Which had just begun to sprout

Marshmallow fluff covered
Her once boring bed
And she began to consider
If she could possibly be dead

The curtains appeared
To be made of toffee
And she wondered if someone
Had poisoned her coffee

She thought this might be heaven
Or potentially a nightmare
While tasting Bavarian cream
As it dripped from her hair

And she thought to herself
Perhaps sweet dreams really do come true
Maybe they just don’t happen
The way they seem they ought to

© 2018 Michelle Cook


For a full month of writing prompts, click here!  Bavarian cream dreams