Here we go, a rollercoaster ride
Snap! just like that – we’re locked inside
Daily numbers on the rise
Contagion, multiplies
Just as we relax
COVID attacks.
Not again!
Here we
go…
By Sarah ©2021
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Lucky Dip, Saturday 14 August
The flowers were blooming, and the bees
kissed them every now and then. Their
charisma – alluring; so
irresistible. Not
able to choose just
one they loved them
all. Pollen;
lustful
drug.
By Sarah ©2019
Image credit Pixabay
Ragtag Daily Prompt, Saturday 24 August: Charisma; and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Unique Personality, 24 August 2019
I heard scurrying as you ran away.
My eyes saw, yet couldn’t believe.
Screaming, my mouth formed circle,
Yet the sound was primal.
Base. From deep inside.
I hugged myself.
Left behind.
All a
– lone.
By Sarah ©2019
Spider silk clung at the doors, over
the windows, and over every
thing she had left behind her
– memories won’t linger.
Her reality
long forgotten.
Dusted off
and moved
on.
By Sarah ©2018
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, First Line Friday: September 14th, 2018
The wedding loomed closer and all Tay
could do was think of the storm clouds.
They say it’s lucky; rain on
your wedding day. But what
if you realise you
didn’t love him?
And so, Tay
called it
off.
By Sarah ©2018
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, First Line Friday – July 20th, 2018
“His smile was like some kind of magic.”
That’s what she’d said when they’d first met.
He’d chosen to cling to that,
even though they were through.
Thought him gone; moved on,
never knowing
how close he
really
was.
By Sarah ©2018
Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, First Line Friday – April 27th, 2018; and also, Olivante Poetry, #NaPoWriMo 2018 – Image 28
My heart aches when I remember you.
Your last day so happy and free.
It was selfish of me to
keep you so long. I knew
it was time to leave.
I said goodbye
but always,
you’re with
me.
By Sarah ©2018
Prompt: Olivante Poetry, #NaPoWriMo 2018 – Image 23
My extensive roots were not enough
to sustain the secrets within
my heart. With arms stretched skyward
I cry for my lost youth.
Girdled and alone,
years of tawdry
growth are all
I have
left.
By Sarah ©2018
Author’s Note: The nonet poetic form is simple. It’s a 9-line poem that has 9 syllables in the first line, 8 syllables in the second line, 7 syllables in the third line, and continues to count down to one syllable in the final (ninth) line.
Prompt: Olivante Poetry, #NaPoWriMo 2018 – Image 22
By Sarah 