Poetry
by Shirley Allard
Fire
Watch
There's a voice in the silence
where innocence sleeps,
A face in the flame
that captures and keeps,
A haze on the window
where ashes conspire,
To capture the rapture
of the demon called fire.
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Points
of View
A flower in the open field
Grows wild for all to see.
A flower growing on the wall
Seeks support as it grows tall
And clings to some degree.
The slightest rupture in the fence
Where sunlight trickles through
Lures the flower through the crack
Yet blossoms still, if you look back
From another's point of view.
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Things
That Sting
Sweet little bumble bee
Stripped of your wings
No longer the bearer
Of venomous stings
Now trapped by the beauty
Betrayed by the flower
I hold you, and heal you
Restoring your power
And you, in return
Will remember this thing
That I do, just for you, and
Oh, Jesus! That stings.
Beware the attraction of those without
wings
The kinder the hearts, the more painful the stings.
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Trapped
Which way to go to find the end
Where strands of gold lie waiting
So many tangled threads to tend
The spider squirms, imprisoned within
The fortress of its own fabrication.
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Shirley Allard resides in
New Hampshire with her husband Jim. She has two grown children
and two young grandchildren who are the light in her life. She
is the founding publisher of WordCatalyst.comand writes the blog Whispers In The
Wind.
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