Time in a Bottle

Time in a Bottle

By J. Lynne Moore

Stands an empty cup,
On the table, bare.
Greedy, you drank it up,
Now you blindly stare,

No need to fret, darling…
Not only will I spare a dime;
A final gift to you I bring,
The bottle filled with time.

Moments precious, held within,
Will quench your ample thirst.
Contrary to your final sin,
You’ve already done the worst.

No need to give praise,
For a gift given without strings.
In a toast my glass I raise,
For hope eternal springs.

What time is left now?
Only the bottle knows;
But this my darling I vow,
Your cheeks shall return to rose.

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

Our Way

Our Way

By J. Lynne Moore

Love, gentle, is not our way…
Passions, volcanic, upon us play.

Flippant desires, humbled lust;
Sheepish kisses fall to dust.

Only the tides rival our soul;
Spinning cyclones out of control.

Bow to our feverish rapture;
Jealous, our love to capture.

Weep those who cannot see,
The adoration betwixt you and me.

Beyond what, the universe can convey,
Love, gentle, is not our way…

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

River Song

River Song

By J. Lynne Moore

‘Tis the river’s song
that leads me nigh;
Through the meadows low,
under the open sky.

A wee dainty tune;
nature’s holy hymn.
Sung on a whisper,
through the shadows dim.

I stroll through the grass,
laden with dew.
My soul joins the chorus;
my heart beats anew.

The jewels in the heavens,
sparkle with delight.
Keeping perfect time,
with the opera’s flight.

By the shore, I now sit,
my toes are not shy,
And find their way gladly,
to the water…I sigh.

Just a moment of bliss;
in a life lived long.
A moment to remember,
singing the river song.

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

Envy Machine

Envy Machine

By J. Lynne Moore

Beat back the hypnotic envy machine;
Sneaky little beggar, vagabond queen.

Meaty little bits, a treat left for all,
Ponder the apparatus’ frantic call.

Billowing decay…Kiss that trashy snake?
Hollow promises, far-flung and half-baked.

Stereotyped to death, prosecute none;
Scrawl their names in blood, it’s all come undone.

Savor what victory? None to be had…
Saturate the languid, envious clad.

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

The Night Freddie Met His Doom

The Night Freddie Met His Doom

By J. Lynne Moore

He found himself alone in the dark,
Freddie had spent five, dark, soulless nights,
In the cold dead space of the silent, uninvited hills.

The clock tower chimed the 11th hour
And he was surrounded by the evil dead.
He had been the 7th guest of a hideous corpse party.

But now everyone had been left for dead.

Freddie knew he shall never make it until dawn,
For when the evil within had its way
He would assuredly be dead by daylight.

The evil residents of this fatal frame,
Were the blood borne spawn of hell,
And the dead were rising to take him away…

It would be a dark decent into eternal darkness…

Down to Dante’s Inferno of the condemned!

A/N – This is just a fun poem, an ode to many of my favorite video games.

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

His Name is Hate

His Name is Hate

By J. Lynne Moore

He lurks, the Dragon,
playing with his toys,
constructs of human flesh;
supping on the juice of their fear.

As the cat, he pounces!
No shame or regret,
holds him back…
As we sit on our soft chairs of complacency.

Like daily vitamins,
we casually swallow his lies,
drink from his cup of oppression,
closing our eyes to the destruction.

To endure we must…
Shine a flashlight of hope,
onto his vile intent,
and banish him… HATE…FOREVER.

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

Wake Me Not

Wake Me Not

By J. Lynne Moore

Wake me not until the dawn…
The tides have writ the final pawn.

Moon glow cackles along the waves,
To the horizon with shadows paves.

Minutes whisper as they fade away,
Lost to history and memory’s fray.

Wake me not until the dawn…
When the rays, yellow, cheerfully spawn.

And bid the amaranthine a fond adieu,
Sprinkling, soft, the day’s first dew.

My eyes will then upon you be cast,
Our love complete at long last.

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