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

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

The Temptress

The Temptress

By J. Lynne Moore

Vanished now the heart’s pure seed,
Conquered by her wretched deed.
His loving words she did not heed,
Lone, he stands, shattered, indeed.

A prisoner to her blackened heart;
Her love laid siege from the start.
Naked, his soul, was torn apart.
Now, he rues, Cupid’s poison dart.

Reality bled upon his desire…
As she kindled, another’s, bedroom fire.
He was left upon the circus wire;
Drowning in heartbreak’s mire.

The temptress fled the dire scene,
No honor or morals did she glean.
If only his heart could have foreseen,
Her wicked wiles and a soul unclean.

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

The Lady is a Tramp

The Lady is a Tramp

By J. Lynne Moore

Walked in she did, nonchalant;
Tawdry, yet faithful, smile.
Laughable was her spirit,
Unattainable, walk in her shoes a mile.

With a utopian air, resonating;
She would boggle the mind.
Send you to the blinking moon.
Is she being grandiose or just kind?

Cheap perfume wafting in her shadow,
Overflowing with sassy grace.
You can’t help but love her;
As you stare into her rhetorical face.

Where did she float in from?
Where does she plan to drift off too?
Keep on asking your silly questions…
She will be gone after she uses you.

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

Wrestling Words

Wrestling Words

By J. Lynne Moore

Put this in your pocket,
Give it a little smoke.
Who cares anymore…
If the logic is all broke?

Wear me down with lies,
That never seem to stop.
Put them in your pocket,
And hop kangaroo hop.

No more wrestling words,
No more poison thoughts;
This is where we draw the line,
On you wicked little plots.

Turn back now, you canker…
I won’t say it again!
We’ve all be there before,
And this is how it began.

Take your final pink slip,
Bend someone else’s ear.
No more will we wallow,
In your tar pit of fear.

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