Josephine J.W

I have some flowers upon my window-sill,
The yellow and white contrast so lightly
You would hardly notice that they differ at all,
Yet one is purity, and the other is frivolity
...

Wandering aimlessly at the misty station
Lugging a velvet heart-shaped case
Listening numbly to the conductor's whistle
Trudging past endless grey with dreary pace
...

As I kept my nightly vigil
On the cliff's rocky edge tonight
As the waves crashed below me
By the twinkling of starlight
...

Suspended above a riveting scene
Fathoming lovely things otherwise unseen
Eyes trailing over countless dewy mounds of green
As the blue of sky reflects serenity
...

There is a silent tragedy
In the setting of the sun
When the golden orb
Declares its day as done
...

Trudging through an aimless drizzle
That reflects my damp and foggy mind
Slogging on in the endless downpour
That echoes my mind's constant grind
...

Wandering up the hills,
Meandering through the dales,
Wafting through the leaves,
Whispering up the vale
...

Down the street and through the wooded paths
Filled with the scent of other seasons that have passed,
I wonder at the flowers and rest beneath the trees,
The friends of my loneliness are none other than these.
...

Ebbing as the eventide,
Bringing dark waters to your mind,
Festering up into your eyes,
Brew of waters turns you blind.
...

He lay with her and toyed her hair in his fingers, gently,
As she was silent and sighed and looked so beautiful,
But he sensed that there was something wrong
And he asked, so tenderly, had he been cruel?
...

I hear the birds and yet I cannot see them,
I wonder if they are as beautiful as their song;
Humanity may try to copy through their music,
But they must know they have failed this all along.
...

Reflecting in the computer screen I am staring into now,
I see the blue of sky, painted with cotton swabs that we call clouds;
How do they stay suspended in the air so long?
They seem to trail along so fast; could I fly with the moving shroud?
...

Eyes' glassy surface reflecting,
The charcoal of your empty orbs.
Red flame igniting and gleaming,
Turning blue skies to lightning storms.
...

Walking down a muddy road
In the throes of December
Heaving through the decay
Of Spring's now frozen embers
...

At times my my mind wanders back into it's library of memoirs
Of times that I have tried to forget, and things I wish I abhorred.
Yet they still haunt me from their murky depths, however vaguely
At the times when my mind breaks it's chains, and the heart is free
...

As I meander through my garden
Filled with memories
I stop beneath the willow
And rest beneath the leaves
...

Roses and gargoyles
Red upon grey
Hourglasses and clocks
Reflections of time
...

Such luxury had become a memory,
World covered in a carpet of silver splendour,
My groggy morning turned to dreamy,
The shimmer of frosty carpet everywhere.
...

Wandering across fields of white,
Strolling through flowering arbors,
Dancing out among the corn fields,
Gazing over the waters at the harbor
...