The winds sickle
sideways, in place
a bud
shorned off
a fragile strength
remains
an armour
of protection
comforts
the roots
and thorns
a dormant love
waiting to bloom
the moment
of glory
in days, in weeks
to come
the cradling hands
of the warming sun.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash
#Poetry #Micropoem #Love #Hibernation
when I rain down
on you
you will go
before the dark
heavy clouds
exude their
lonely tears into
the deep pools of salty
mud, waist deep
into the night
you fly to escape
as I flower the garden
extending the life
of the bouquets
while you run
far, far away.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by João Cabral from Pexels
#Poetry #shortverse #micropoetry
if all there is to give
exists inside this love
then why do you insist
on such meaningless
shopping trips?
Love
is the trip,
my love.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by freestocks.org from Pexels
#Poetry #Micropoetry #Love
the poet murders
falsehoods and pretenses
while gently coercing
love out of his
bloody
head.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Vijay Putra from Pexels
#Poetry #Micropoems #Poets
Want,
What is it?
To want?
A want?
Of want?
Want of Love?
Want of desire
Want of fire
Fire rolling on skin
Burn bold
Burn bright
Burn flesh
The melding
of souls within,
skin-smooth
embrace
Hold me
Suc-tioned air
Sweat pouring want,
through flowing hair
Languishing
Gushing
Wanting,
to cry out
Want sweeps,
breathes,
in/out
of skin
Pores igniting
the air
Amber light,
night
falling
Dusk,
shadows
of lust
Reflections of soft giants
on white walls,
a world separate
from here somewhere,
separate from there
Shadow bunnies
from the past,
elusive moments
of want,
of care.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
#Poetry #Poets #LovePoem #Wordsmith
Crescent #writephoto is a photo prompt challenge, created by Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo
With its soft-eye-petals closed
the flower had a dream, that it fell
in love with the moon.
I sit under this tree
crowned by the crescent
watching the flower begin, to open
slowly falling deeply, in love
with its rising bloom.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
For visually challenged writers, the image shows the dark silhouette of a tree against a cloudy sky. The horizon is lit by the gold of dawn, while a crescent moon hangs above the tree.
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This artwork was created at the time I met and fell in love with my wife. She was so beautiful to me and she was very into yoga at the time so this oil pastel was my very first gift I gave her. This poem is coupled with it as visual inspiration.
Love is to the spirit
what a moon beam is to the night
A smile so bright
darkness hides under a rock
defeated by the brilliance
of the white-hot light
dancing on the stars
staying awake all night
darkness runs
to the corners of the earth
escaping the wrath
of its’ competitors heart
Love is to the spirit
what a moon beam is to the night
reflections of galaxies
upon the oceans bright
mirrors of adoration
adorning faces despite
the darkness that challenges
loves white-hot light.
Art and Poetry by, Jay Mora-Shihadeh
© Jay Mora-Shihadeh
