I love the way
that you look at me;
like I’m a sinful portion
of caramelized crème brulée,
and you are the dessert spoon.
♥
© 2019 Jacqueline
Category: Poetry/Poems
Sage and Vine – Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Challenge
fruits of the vine
mature with age,
and so does sage.
wisdom, she lost,
buried in the deep cups
of the grapevine.
—
© Jacqueline 2019
Thank you Ronovan, I enjoyed this prompt.
The numbers…
These are
the number of kisses that we’ve had
the little dinners we have held
the evening walks on Tuesday’s end
the glorious sunsets around the bend
These are
the number of laughter we have shared
the times our silence has been paired
the million tiny tales we’ve told
the times you held me when I cried
These are
the moments we lived as we foretold
the times that slipped and went untold
the many nights our eyes went unslept
the promises made and yet unkept
These are…
busting at the seams…
I don’t do drugs,
she told herself in consolation,
yet she stuffed her face
and got sedated
on pies and cream cakes,
her righteous self
busting at the seams
This is me of late. Guilty! I am an emotional eater and when I’m unduly stressed like I’ve been for many weeks now, I go into eating overdrive.
Unreachable…
I searched his eyes
but he was long gone
wandering a private,
and distant place
a landscape with no zipcodes
and no maps.
I tried to call him back
all in futility
he was stuck
in the corridors of silence
unreachable…
© 2018 Jacqueline
This poem came to my mind when I heard of Senator John McCain’s passing. I don’t know him personally except for what was made public, but I developed a healthy amount of respect for him as I read a bit more about him. May His Soul Find Rest.
Uninvited…
I saw it coming.
I grudgingly said hello.
I allowed it to simmer and linger.
Depression.
That uninvited guest.
Comes to spend the night on your couch,
and ends up
staying for weeks on end
in your room and bathrobe.
I have my episodes, like I did this past week and a lot of times they are triggered by very innocuous, mundane things. such as a break in my rituals.
Sometimes, I can’t even put a finger on the precise point of trigger, or even encapsulate my emotions properly in words. What I do know, however, is that as hard as it may be to get out of that bed and bathrobe and face your day, for those of us who go through these down times, it’s very important to focus on daily pick-me-up rituals. They have a way of keeping you grounded.
Visions…
I want to walk the earth,
to capture its vision
through the lens of my eyes
maybe many memories
will be framed
to hang on the wall
but most importantly,
are those memories made
and stored in my mind’s eye.
© 2018 Jacqueline
Peeking Into The Future…
Do you often wish,
that the future ahead,
you could surely foretell;
knowing every step?
Ω
I stare at the tea leaves
willing it to reveal its secrets,
I swirl my cup gingerly
but nothing comes up.
ℜ
I am not a psychic
waiting on tea leaves to tell secrets,
I possess no crystal ball
to peek and tell the future.
Σ
What would life be
if everything is known?
For the fun of living
is to unwrap each day.
©
2018 Jacqueline
Let me ask a pertinent question, have you ever had your tea leaves or coffee grounds read for you? I am curious.
Travesty…
when leaders stole a Nation
from under its feet
they said it would make us great
like we have never known before
but we sat down
and we drank wine
forgetting to weep in our cups
and mourn our loss
they sold our land
for shillings for their pockets
heritage given to men
who held them by the balls
bereft, we are left adrift
‘cos travesty besieges us;
for we were sold falsehood
and promises that leak like a basket
© 2018 Jacqueline
Her Butterflies…
Her first love,
he gave her a butterfly,
a beautiful, iridescent thing
stuck in a jam jar
Her second love,
he took away the butterfly,
sold it for a nickel,
and left her a fist in the face
Her third love,
he gave her many butterflies
etched in pretty coloured ink,
they lived free on her backside.
©
Jacqueline
a cooking pot and twisted tales 