Midsummer blue

I don’t care
to blame others
for thinking of the past
of things that have gone out of style
love, marriage, family, first kisses
wandering the shadows, morning mist
cyber secrets like ancient charms
traded after dark where words are power
dancing flames of hair, emerald eyes
glance sharply, voice echoes
a witch’s refrain to leave it alone
because midsummer blue
will always be a dreamer

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Women’s magazines

greengrocers – early afternoon
blue canvas awning heat
keen to get home from gossip
long daily excursion pointless
there must be more to life
meetings, Friday tennis, empty house
just her and the baby
on a merry-go-round

I wake up with sounds inside me

I wake up with sounds inside me,
rhyming like a childhood spell;

to be a witch I hone my craft,
personal magic to navigate the world;

power – magic – destiny,
I call on that spiritual force;

trust myself to walk the path,
to let myself drift among secrets;

connecting me with nature
for she is who I am.

to never wake

a voice inside
shouts I’m a girl
watching shadows
that won’t stop
risking my life;

I can feel them now
burning in my stomach,
my eyes, daring me
to never wake

Bruised petal poet

Bruised petal poet
of human nature
glances over her shoulder
at spirits from the past;
silent, concealed heart
in the pages of a book;
ghostly hands nervous
with little moons
turn the page
of secret dreams
to nourish her soul.

Today

Belonging to a hidden truth
somewhere else fragmented
like spiritual wisdom
or existential anger
I didn’t know anything
harmless apparition
absent-mindedly walking
through my life

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