Little pussy willow,

Sitting by the window,

Watching the world go by .

Fiona

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Murder by sanguination

A fiery gush of blood,

Showered from the gaping wound,

In slow motion the body collapsed,

Falling awkwardly to the floor ,

Blood pooled around her,

Like a castle moat.

Eyes staring lifelessly,

What does she see?

Nothing, absolutely nothing!

A death stare.

Blood spattered walls,

An artist would be proud,

Delightful, maleficent blood splatter,

The pale, sanguinated corpse, committed to death.

The transition complete.

Fiona

MORNINGS

MORNINGS

SITTING ALONE ON A ROCK, SUBDUED,

I WATCH THE LILLIES IN THE VALLEY,

GEMS AMONGST THE WAILING MIST,

THE DEW UPON THE SINKING LEAVES,

DRIP, DRIP, DRIPPING,

EVAPORATING UNDER THE MOUNTING PRESSURE

OF THE MORNING SUN.

SURROUNDING TREES A CHOIR OF MELODIC BIRDS,

GREETING THE NEW DAY WITH FERVOUR.

BLUE SKY EMERGING FROM NATURES CLOUDED CEILING.

I WISTFULLY TAKE LEAVE OF MORNINGS MAGIC.

FIONA

NOTRE DAME IS BURNING

NOTRE DAME IS BURNING

OUR LADY BURNS A FIERY RED,

A HELL PIT OF FURY,

SHE WEEPS AS SHE FEELS THE PAST IGNITE,

TIME LOST TO THE RAVAGING FLAMES,

GARGOYLES, WERE YOU NOT GUARDING OUR LADY ?

MAYBE IT WAS YOU WHO OPENED THE GATES OF HELL,

FIRE INVADING THE PIT OF HER BELLY,

VOMITING ASH THROUGH HER HOLY ORIFICE,

LIKE A PHOENIX SHE WILL RISE FROM THE ASHES,

SHE WILL BE RESURRECTED.

FIONA

A LONELY GRAVE UPON A HILL

A LONELY GRAVE UPON A HILL,

FORGOTTEN BUT FOR NATURES REVOLVING DOOR.

DAWNS SHADOW QUIETLY ACKNOWLEDGING ITS EXISTENCE.

THE SUN HIGHLIGHTING THE GRAVES GLARING EPITAPH,

THIS, THE ONLY REMAINING STORY OF A LIFE.

DANCING LEAVES CELEBRATE THE ADVENT OF AUTUMN.

BLADES OF GREEN GRASS CARESS THE COLD STONE.

NATURE REMEMBERS WHILST THE REST OF THE WORLD FORGETS.

THE MOON SPOTLIGHTS A STARRING ROLE,

PERPETUATING THE IMPORTANCE OF THIS LONELY GRAVE.

THE TWINKLING STARS AN ATTENTIVE AUDIENCE.

REMEMBERING THE FORGOTTEN.

FIONA

BEING A MOTHER

BEING A MOTHER IS HARD.

WHEN THEY ARE BABYS, IT’S EASY.

DEMANDING, TIRING, BUT EASY.

WHEN THEY ARE TODDLERS, IT’S EASY.

PLAY, LOVE, FEED, REPEAT.

THEY START SCHOOL, IT’S EASY.

HOMEWORK, LOVE, FRIENDS, READING, SPORT.

WHEN THEY BECOME TEENAGERS,

IT BECOMES HARD.

THEY FEEL MISUNDERSTOOD,

MOTHERS FEEL MISUNDERSTOOD,

NOBODY IS UNDERSTOOD.

FIGHTING THROUGH THE TEENAGE YEARS,

EVENTUALLY PEACE IS RESTORED.

BUT IT IS STILL HARD.

HIDING YOUR FEARS,

UNABLE TO CONTROL HARMFUL OUTCOMES.

KNOWING A KISS AND A DISTRACTION IS NO LONGER A CURE.

BEING A MOTHER IS HARD.

FIONA