By J. Lynne Moore


quarks, protons, electrons, atoms, molecules

cells, organs, flesh, body

steam(gas), water(liquid), ice(solid)


one is all,

all are one

infinite cycle…

cycling infinitely


can you tell the beginning…

from the end?


gaze upon the mirrored mirror

as you recite pi

eternally, eternal, eternity


© 2016 -2018 Cashmere /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved


Breaking Out

Breaking Out

By J. Lynne Moore

Entrapped, entangled
Within the choking dark
Caught beneath the deep

Interred, entombed
Surviving fathoms below
Encircled by the murk

Encased, enclosed
In a prison keep
Fully self-imposed

Searching, seeking
Aching for comfort and hope
Desperate to escape

Jetting, bursting
A single ray of dawn
Extending through the dark


© 2016 -2018 Cashmere /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

Sounds of the Night

Sounds of the Night

By J. Lynne Moore

Dancing winds
Whisper a song
Of fireflies
Chased by the ruddy frog

The cackling brook
Chimes a verse
About the spider
And her web of pearly fiber

Rustling leaves
Take up the tune
And sing of the owl
With glowing moonlit eyes

The last to sound
Is the breaking sky
With its saffron morning song
Adieu, goodnight, it is dawn

© 2016 -2018 Cashmere /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

Spare a penny

An offering from a tremendously talented poet, this is one of my favorites.

Andrew Green's Poems


A poet bleeds and breaks his heart
Spills it out on paper
The reader spares a passing glance
And treats it like a favour.

All the anxt and heartbreak there
The intellectual labour
Keep your troubles to yourself
Or share them with a neighbour.

Spare a penny if you’re kind
Spare it for a busker.
Nothing for the poet though
Empty words and bluster.

Skip around the mulberry bush,
Dance and skip and caper.
Another poem in the book
Isn’t worth the paper.

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Cupid’s Heart

Cupid’s Heart

By J. Lynne Moore

A perfect love cannot be found,
not as the earth turns round and round.

Mind you now, my heart is pure;
a youthful love, is my offered cure.

Love through the eyes of a child can be,
unblemished by life’s certain agony.

Arrows shot from my cherub’s hand,
carry the promise of an infant’s brand.

Love of snow, clean, flawless white;
‘tis my heart’s desire, for every flight.

But in those whom, time has well burned,
twist the arrow, are left now spurned.

The child within, locked away, caged…
cannot remove blinders, on the heart, aged.

Hope yet flutters and holds my wings aloft;
I loose another arrow, though I am scoffed.

For chance is alive in this Cupid’s heart,
in the hopes of virtuous love, to impart.

© 2016 -2018 Cashmere /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved



By J. Lynne Moore

A shoulder of stone,
Beneath my head,
Upon which…
My fears I shed.

A moment of surrender,
In a gentle embrace.
Eyes closed soft,
I bury my face.

A dream still held,
In the lone shadows of night;
Stone shoulders to share,
The perils of mortal flight.

A tattered yoke laden,
With the burdens of life.
I carry it solo…
I’m no longer a wife.

© 2016 -2018 Cashmere /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved