Heather pink

Heather pink

Beauty displays herself
In fragrant wisps
Of thyme
During midday wishes
She’s at
Her prime

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  Heather pink

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Perfect stranger

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I watched each step
As she crossed that road
After leaving the safe shelter
Of her humble abode

Her clothes looked comfortable
With billowy cotton sleeves
And I suspected her socks
Were likely pulled up to her knees

Her hat was placed neatly
Atop a bed of pearly white hair
And as she slowly strode along
I couldn’t help but stop and stare

Her strides were shortened
By hips that dared not move
And her uniquely designed cane
Didn’t do much to improve

She seemed determined
Yet unhurried in decisive fashion
To get to wherever it was
Which was driving her inner passion

I sensed freedom in her jaunt
Though not of the physical kind
And I believe our brief encounter
Was solely meant to remind

For she made me think of the worries
The ones I cling to every day
And yet she so unintentionally
Seemed to leave hers miles away

I knew she’d discovered the secret
Found only in aging years
The one we all hope to find
To help lessen our irrational fears

And so she taught me a lesson that day
About my own life and who I am
And how I shouldn’t worry about the things
That I will never fully understand

I just wish I could thank her
For the encouragement she provided
It’s hard to find that these days
In a world so terribly divided

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Faith 

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Plainly put
She needs more
Not the pot of gold
At the end of the rainbow
But instead, that bit of light
The one beckoning her
From the end of the tunnel
She walks cautiously
Uncertain of where to step
For the ground is uneven
And the rocks are jagged
Does she dare continue?
That tiny bit of light
Seems awfully far away
She sighs…
It’s likely just a mirage

 

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Gravity

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It’s one of those days…
The kind that makes you wonder
About all the things you shouldn’t
And then leaves you feeling weary

I feel bored and uninspired
And the monotonous drivel
Flooding my emotionless mind
Is only making matters worse

The familiar clicking of the clock
Is fueling my hypnotic state
And I think I may just collapse
Under the weight of my excitement

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Acceptance

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I found myself depleted
Of every last drop
Not even an ounce of myself
Was left in the cup

I’d been spilled nonchalantly
Chipped on occasion
And I’d invited my curiosity
To allow an invasion

I worked tirelessly everyday
To refill my cup
But the pieces gave way
And I had to give up

Even the glue that lingered
Wasn’t that strong
So mending the edges
Went unbelievably wrong

The stains and scars
Still very much remain
And the cracks are reminders
Of so much pain

Thankfully a vessel
Doesn’t have to look nice
So this battered old cup
Will just have to suffice

© 2019 Michelle Cook

To my inky friend

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It’s been quite a long time
Since I last held you
And now you just don’t feel the same
You’re like a long lost friend
The kind I used to know so well
The sort I’d spend every day with
Who I’d laugh and cry with
The kind I’d stay up all night with
Who’d listen and love me for me
Like the friend who was always there
No matter time or day
The sort who cared about everything
Regardless of its true importance
But now things are different
And you feel so unfamiliar
Our connection has sadly faded
And the magic that was once inside you
Seems to have lost its fiery spark
You used to be so mesmerizing
I could stare at you all day long
Your life-giving enchantments saved me
And I wonder why you had to change
You used to write the loveliest things
But like a long lost friend
Who was once as close as a brother
You just aren’t the same as before
I’m afraid the spell has been broken
And the essence of you is surely gone

© 2019 Michelle Cook

The truth

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I feel saddened by words
Which aren’t meant for me
Seems so often the truth
Hides in what I see

And my heart breaks
For what I know to be true
But my head tells me to ignore it
Now what should I do

Do I blindly let life
Lead me by
Enjoying the naïve view
Right in front of my eye

Or should I care
That the truth is hidden
Behind words I see
So plainly written

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Illuminating illustrations

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Defiled strokes
On soiled canvas
Once vibrant flecks
Destroyed by madness

Disarray strewn
In flagrant display
Immortally disfigured
In austere grey

Regretfully imprinted
On a heart of black
Never to find
Her way back

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  Illuminating illustrations

Even from afar

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Words cannot express
Everything you are
I’ve loved you forever
Even from afar
And on those days
That are cold and bleak
It’s you that I miss
You’re the one I seek
I cannot deny
The things I feel
It’s you that I love
These emotions are real
You’ll always be there
Concealed in my heart
The place where we never
Have to be apart

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Who am I?

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Who am I?
Some say I’ve changed
But have I?
Or am I merely revealing
Who I always was
Maybe I’m just fed-up
With people not understanding
Perhaps I’m finally breaking free
From always hiding the true me
There seems to come a time
When we can no longer be afraid
To let others finally see
Our true identity

© 2019 Michelle Cook

The keeper of her heart

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He was the grantor
Of wishes
And the bearer
Of love
He was the giver
Of affection
And the maker
Of dreams
He was the bestower
Of kindness
And the producer
Of happiness
But most of all
He was the keeper
Of her heart

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  The keeper of her heart

 

Forsaken

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The sheets
Were the only witness
As to what transpired
That day
Ending up discarded
In a disheveled mess
On a cold
Barren floor
Tossed nonchalantly aside
Like they never
Even mattered
All the warmth
They ever gave
Instantaneously forgotten
As a sudden moment
Of unforeseen passion
Left them crumpled
And useless

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Wednesday

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The clock
Was restless
In anticipation
Of another day

The girl
Was helpless
To keep procrastination
At bay

The work
Was senseless
And wouldn’t
Go away

The day
Was useless
Windy
And gray

The outlook
Was pointless
But she’d promised
To stay

The desire
Was reckless
To find
Another way

The afternoon
Was zealous
Beseeching her
To play

The schoolbook
Was jealous
Begging her
Not to sway

The convincing
Was endless
And she became
Its prey

The pendulum
Was voiceless
With nothing else
To say

© 2019 Michelle Cook