IMPRESSION
She left an impression On his lips And his hands can't forget The curve of her hips The fragrance of honeysuckle He remembers the most For it is the scent Of his lover's ghost Simona A. Brinson
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DISMAY
I whispered to the wind And I heard her say My dear child, Why so much dismay? I paused for a moment Because I couldn't believe What my ears were hearing Cause I couldn't conceive That the wind had ears To hear my voice Or that she spoke To me by choice I steadied my feet And replied with composure How I thought My life was over Because the one whom I loved Had broken my heart She replied with a whisper He was of faint heart So, don't let such cowardice Cause you dismay For tomorrow is another day. Simona A. Brinson
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A MEMORY
When you died I couldn't breathe I fell into Daddy's arms In absolute grief Through tear-stained eyes I saw Uncle Tom's face And when I called for you Brother His knees gave way That is the clearest memory I have of that day I saw him feel my pain I saw his tears fall like rain It broke my heart To see him break It felt as if The earth would quake When you died I couldn't breathe Why brother Did you have to leave Simona A. Brinson
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There are those Who are called the Outlivers Those who never seem to die I refer to them as trespassers Because they only come out When the moon westers low And the ground is sprinkled With young snow Their skin appears varnished With resinous damar Beautifully unblemished Without any scars No one knows how many Outlivers exist But I am sure their plurality Has been overstated by fantasists Who delight in relaying Unfounded truths To keep us shaking In our boots Simona A. Brinson
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When I was young I made dandelion wishes That got lost in the wind Or fell into ditches Because those wishes Never came true If they had I'd be with you Simona A. Brinson
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There is a box in the attic
Full of secrets and lies
Where my family
Conceals and hides
All the things
They don’t want others to see
I for one
Do not agree
In such practices
Of concealment and deceit
Because it doesn’t
Promote harmony or accrete
It only perpetuates
The great divide
Between brothers and sisters
And husbands and wives
Simona A. Brinson
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PANTIELESS
She fell head-over-heels Without even thinking He hadn't a clue Not even an inkling That her heart now Belonged to him And that she loved The dimple in his chin As night turned to day And she awoke In a strange bed Beside some bloke She couldn’t quite remember The night before Or why her panties Were on the floor Then she realized The mistake she made She had had one too many And had gotten laid. Simona A. Brinson
When I look into his eyes I wonder what I may see; Just two pupils Staring back at me. Or will I see To the depths of his soul? If it be the latter I may lose control! They say to the soul The eyes are the windah. To the marrow of his being I wish to surrendah. I want to come to know The moral force of his character, The boy inside the man, And hear his inner chatter. I wonder if the boy inside Is as silly as the girl in me? Does he like making mud pies And climbing up trees? Does he like the feel of His toes in the sand? Would he, too, be giddy If he held my hand? When I look into his eyes I wonder what I may see. I dream it be the little boy Smiling back at me! Simona A. Brinson
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In twilight's grasp, where shadows creep,
Lies and deceit begin to seep.
A tangled web, so finely spun,
Threads of falsehood, one by one.
Each whisper holds a hidden sting,
A puppet dance on silken string.
Truth buried deep, beneath the guise,
Of crafted tales and alibis.
Deception's art, a cunning play,
Where trust erodes and hearts betray.
A labyrinth of veiled intent,
Where honesty is slowly spent.
Yet, in this maze of dark deceit,
The light of truth can still defeat.
For webs of lies will tear and fray,
When dawn reveals the honest way.
Simona A. Brinson
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© Simona A. Brinson and mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.
My Life In Word 