Clay Ones
By J. Lynne Moore
Ocher bleeds from the sky
Penetrating skin
Worn by the clay ones
Who consume
Invisible gasses
To inflate their
Organ balloons
That feed crimson rivers
Cascading beneath
Their painted flesh clothes
Sustaining their
Un-dead existence
© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved
Black and White
By J. Lynne Moore
This pallet holds no colors,
Only hues of black and white;
And when they meet in the middle,
Grey covers all in sight.
Sometimes it’s the grey of a dove.
Sometimes it’s the grey of night.
But it’s always a smoky hue,
That knows no wrong or right.
Only one way to separate the colors,
And paint them in the proper light.
We need the grace of a Savior,
To draw away the darkness with His Might.
© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved
Healing Touch
By J. Lynne Moore
A simple prayer,
for a healing touch.
A heartfelt cry,
for one loved so much.
Do not deny…
the reality, present;
but wrap it in hope,
don’t fret or lament.
Faith brings rest,
for those who believe.
Just hold out your hand,
and in gratitude receive.
No matter the burden,
no matter the plight,
there is healing to be had,
in Heaven’s Holy light!
A prayer is lifted,
for the one I love so.
Into His hands
I must let you go.
© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved
My Burden
By J. Lynne Moore
‘Tis not for the lack of try,
Nor is it a matter of pride;
The burdens lain upon me are many
And my shoulders are not that wide.
My face is not that of an angel,
Yet I have no reason to hide.
Two yokes were thrust upon me,
But my shoulders are not that wide.
Will help ever speak my name?
Will my head ever rise above the tide?
Shall the albatross nest elsewhere?
For my shoulders are just not that wide.
© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved
Withered Hand
J. Lynne Moore
A withered hand waits,
For the touch of youth.
Fearing now the loss…
The reality of stubborn truth.
The repetition of sunrise,
Has left it’s wrinkled mark;
And still the withered hand…
Waits, as the shadows grow dark.
Faded now, the journey’s road,
Bellows caution, dead end…
And as the moments linger,
The withered hand does ascend.
© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved
Cat Date
By J.Lynne Moore
What do I say, to those in love;
that carry on like, cooing turtledove.
Do I scorn their love so sweet?
When they display, affection on the street.
Does my temper flare and rage,
as another couple walks out on the stage?
Do you see me weep and pine,
because I don’t hear, “You are mine”?
Heavens no! For goodness sake!
Love to me, has too high a stake!
For me… my cat, is the perfect mate!
She makes for a splendid, dinner date.
Never once has she been unkind;
a more amiable companion, you will never find.
She does not ever have a complaint,
I think I would say she is quite a saint!
Oh, her hair…makes quite a mess;
but I shan’t complain, about her dress.
This may sound all very queer;
I assure you it’s not, she’s quite a dear.
So, you can keep, all your lovey stuff;
To me it seems to be nothing but fluff.
As for me…and my sweet cat;
We are a perfect pair, and that is that.
© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved
I am thrilled to announce that my first book of original poetry is now live on Amazon! It is available in paperback and will soon be available in eBook format. You can click on the cover below to buy a copy.
Cashmere Illusions: The Musings of a Lady Poet
By J. Lynne Moore
© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved
Remembering Daddy
By J. Lynne Moore
Canary smiles flit,
to faces in the room;
airplanes of paper wit,
thrown out upon the gloom.
Remembrances passed around,
free of charge or back tax.
Flowing with love unbound,
seeping into all our cracks.
His ashes a centerpiece…
tangible evidence, proof,
of the man we all caprice.
As we gather beneath his roof.
© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved
Cashmere Illusions 