Day: August 18, 2017

Walking Water

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Walking Water
By J.Lynne Moore

Water walks to the wayward shore,
Over and under the sparkling decor.
The gleaming shadows,
Harbor no secret gloss,
From the weeping emerald moss.

Twisting and turning across its bed.
In a leisurely pursuit of what’s ahead.
Carving a path all its own,
Washing away all circumstance,
Moving along in a heavenly dance.

Carrying life to all who will sup,
From its succulent refreshing cup.
Caressing the banks in a gentle embrace,
Bubbling with effervescent delight,
It’s beauty ripples day and night.

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

Choose Love

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Choose Love
By J.Lynne Moore

Back against the wall,
Out there, what do I see…
A world out of control,
Screaming in front of me.

Don’t dip your toe in the water,
You might not get it back.
The raging beast inside,
Will never give you slack.

So much hate from all sides;
Humans run in vicious packs,
Eating those weaker souls,
That have yellow down their backs.

Wake up each morning and choose,
Pour yourself a cup of love,
Share it with your brothers.
Take off the hater’s glove!

Blink your eye, your life is done…
Don’t take the time to wait.
Rage against the venom,
See to the extinction of hate.

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

The Heart of Man

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The Heart of Man
By J. Lynne Moore

In the end…
Who will know,
Who killed the dog
or ate the crow?

Who will remember,
The lover’s game,
That broke a heart,
In Heaven’s name?

The will of man,
Is a fickle toy;
Wrought with fear,
Forged with joy.

In the sands of time,
Who will erase,
The deeds of evil,
In want of grace?

Hope may die,
But not the soul…
When courage steps forth,
To pay envy’s toll.

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

Bette Davis Style

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Bette Davis Style
By J.Lynne Moore

History screams on high,
The beauty of…
A Bette Davis eye.
Class and style,
Define her fame.
Black and white reels,
Color her name.

Red carpet rolling,
Twixt the valley of stars;
Marquee extolling,
Laurels of praise.
Love her or not…
Talent doesn’t lie,
No approval is sought.

Rival her never!
She is the voyager,
With red, red lips…
Her victory is in the dark;
Dancing on the silver scene,
Respect is her due,
Of style, she is the queen.

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved