You touched my life
with a stroke of a feather
A fleeting moment
in the moon shadow
that excited and tantalized
Luring me to you
like a moth to the flame
Singeing wings
burning desire
Now all that remains
is a feeling
A sensation that still tingles
A scratch
you can barely see
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©
Word Prompts:
Barely - WotD
Scratch - RDP
Grace is hosting at D'Verse Poets
for Open Link Night
The melodious sound
of instruments
broke the still night air
A soft rhythmic beat
appealing and seducing
daring to share
Like a moth to a flame
it lured and cajoled
with musical ingenuity
Lacking self-control
It was easy to be tempted
Succumbing to promiscuity
Heart racing
and adrenalin flowing
Caution thrown to the wind
The course uncharted
and on this whim
all hopes were pinned
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©
Mish is hosting D'Verse Poets
Open Link Night
Word Prompts
Melodious - WotD
Ingenuity - RDP
Chart - FOWC
Photo - Stephan Keller, Pixabay
A place for a clandestine encounter
or secrets hidden within its periphery
This wall could tell stories
of trysts, surreptitious meetings
Perhaps even some bewitchery
Traces of lichen and moss
Covering the ancient rocks
Underneath, romantic messages
left by star crossed lovers whose
footsteps are now covered with Phlox
The old gate bearing initials
Carved with high expectations
Yet thwarting courtship
blocking fate, destiny
and undying declarations
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©
Sue Vincent's Thursday Write/Photo
Forgotten
He ordered
the finest whisky
as he sat at the bar
and buried his head
The time had come
It would be a long night
Looming
He considered in dread
His clothes were ill fitting
They had seen better days
He looked disheveled
he knew, but couldn’t care
His thoughts on his purpose
As he nursed his drink
Focused
Avoiding the glare
Nine fifteen, his mark entered
the noisy bar
Full of swagger
and arrogance
He knew it was him
There was no question
Relaxed
He ignored the dissonance
Finding a seam in the throng
he worked his way through
Sliding onto the bench
next to his target
Pressing a gun
into the man’s side
he fired
Killing the devil incarnate
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©
In response to Jim Adams Prompt of “I Shot the Sheriff”
On Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie
Finest
Seam
Bench
Image by shauking from Pixabay
The land was calling
He could hear it
beckoning to his soul
Come, come it cried
Over and over
Echoing through the shoal
He followed the sounds
through the waters deep
until the beach he found
Where he shed his sealskin
taking on human form
and laid there on the ground
Breathless, resting on the sand
Looking skyward to the sun
Feeling the warmth of the glow
A shadow crossed his eyes
and he did see an outline
of a beautiful female torso
As he struggled to get up
the girl held out her hand
“Come with me”, she said
Mesmerized he complied
“You and I belong together
and we will surely wed”
He hid away his Selkie skin
in a place so secret
no one would ever look
He lived happily in human form
with his beautiful bride but
curiosity is all it took
She found his sealskin
one fateful day
in its hiding place
The legend came true
He did leave her there, alone
with her own good grace
The sea called him back
to where he did belong
leaving her broken-hearted
The Selkie returned
from whence he came
to the ocean uncharted
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©
Anmol is hosting DVerse Poets and has prompted us write about
myths or legends that we remember from childhood.
Click the link below for more information on the Selkie legend
The Secret History of the Hidden Selkie
National Poetry Writing Month
NaPoWriMo - April 24 - Day 24
Today's prompt - Today’s (optional) prompt is to write a poem that,
like “Dictionary Illustrations,” is inspired by a reference book.
They said,
“If the broom fits, ride it!”
And she did, of course
Controlling, fearless and fierce
Aware of all secrets
And what might be source
Gifted with calculating skills
And knowing where souls and
skeletons were concealed
She used information acquired
Holding feet to the fire
Shameful stories were revealed
Stopping one day
To take refreshment
From an offered chalice
It was poison she drank
That took her life
A death from obvious malice
Despised by her enemies
Loved by her followers
She was both target and idol
An illustrious force of nature
A hurricane in a sandstorm
No one could ever unbridle
RIP you crazy witch
and haunt us no more
It’s enough we have to see
A constant calling card
Your hat on a pole
When all we want is to be free
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©
In response to Sue Vincent's Thursday Prompt
Sign - Write/Photo
Word Prompt
Illustrious
Soul
Come, come, the enchantresses sing
Mesmerizing and hypnotic
The sailors are lured
by these sea creatures, so exotic
A long time on the seas
forgetting the power of sirens
Charmed by their beauty
Forgetting their environs
Fooled by their wiles
Ecstatic at the attention
The unwise men
Unaware of the intention
Blindly complying
They are led to certain death
A ship on the rocks
Guarantees their last breath
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©
In response to:
Hélène Vaillant's What Do You See Photo Prompt
Word Prompts:
Rock
Ecstatic
The low hum of the air conditioner
was the only sound to be heard
He reclined on the bed, thoughts swirling
but the lines were blurred
Life had been full of possibilities
until that fateful night
He had loved her deeply
but she had been full of spite
His history needing an overwrite
He had run to clear his head
Events had escalated quickly
He feared he had left her dead
Bringing her a gift of flowers
She had thrown them in his face
Accusing him of infidelity
Her words out of place
He would never do such a thing
She had been ill advised
She screamed and ranted
And continued to chastise
His head exploding
from her volcanic eruption
He had pushed her away
Needing an abruption
Awkwardly she fell to the floor
In his fear, he had ran from there
Now In the stillness, a voice on a megaphone
“Come out with your hands in the air”
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©
Word Prompts:
Possibilities
Hum
Megaphone
Overwrite
Photo by Albert Dera on Unsplash
My wanderlust is responsible
for the souvenirs I collect
From here, there and everywhere
My travels they do reflect
At home in the clouds
where I anchor my balloon
This is where my head resides
closer to the moon
Look into my windows
and see this world of mine
Come fly with me
from the Mississippi to the Rhine
I can take off to distant lands
Lifting me higher and higher
With no roots in the earth
I am a constant frequent flyer
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©
In response to Hélène Vaillant's "What do you See" Photo Prompt
Word Prompt:
Wanderlust
Often, she would come
to the frozen pond
A place of solace
Finding peace, courtesy of
Nature’s magic wand
She occasionally saw the pair
on the ice arm in arm
Sometimes they would dance
Holding each other
Skating with such charm
Sitting by the frosted tree
Music filtered through the air
Where could that be coming from?
Looking closer at the couple
She studied them with a stare
Their clothes were from
a time in history
The music was a waltz
She had never noticed before
It was now a mystery
Who were these people
that appeared from time to time?
Was she the only one
who could see them?
Why were her feelings sublime?
Nothing seemed to add up
There was no trace of a car
She called to them
but they did not answer
Maybe she was too far
Realizing they were ghosts
as they faded from sight
Her mind playing tricks again
in the chilled afternoon air
As she stared into the white
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©
Word Prompts:
Waltzing
Frosted
Pair
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