Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I am done writing,
How about you?
Heather Stevens
vskypoetress
Art, in its many forms, has been and remained my outlet in everyday life. I believe that art is the one true passage way for the soul to communicate with the rest of the world. Being an artist has introduced me to people, cultures, and experiences I would have never had otherwise. As you read any of my poetry, music, view my art or listen to any of my audio poems, I hope that you look and listen with an open spirit. If I'm able to paint a picture of any kind in your mind, that's what counts. June of 2013 I published my second poetry book entitled "One". In 2010, I wrote and recorded my first single, "Love is not for the weak" Back in 2008, I opened a small painting business "Custom Creations" Yes, I love the arts! As of right now, I am working on another book, a comedy actually! A real life look at the dating scene in your 30's. You definitely wont want to miss this one! I still run "Custom Creations" and I am a poetry junky and will never put the pen down!
Dig deep (Haiku)
Inner strength needed
Not one to be defeated
Deep rooted and deep seeded
Shed
Pretty as can be, I feel sorry for her.
While the physical seems in tact,
her emotional state is out of whack.
With each man, she bids farewell to another piece of herself.
Never really touching life, just watching from a dusty shelf.
Fed up with each violation,
just not enough to salvage what’s left of her next generation.
I pray she finds a new revelation.
One she can hang her hat on, trust with no questions.
Let sleeping dogs lie, finally learn her lesson.
Realize that who SHE is at the break of wake is by itself, a beautiful blessing.
Rise up!
Break away, and start your shedding.
Nightmare
Staring straight ahead, my eyes struggled to focus.
A woman, counting down, 3,2,1……………………….
On the count of 1, she released grip, on her babies stroller and lost it.
Faster and faster, a nightmarish blur,
Getting closer, tragedy ready to occur,
scrambling for confidence, instead, find myself unsure.
I reach out my arms, ready to try and defer,
My eyes suddenly pop open and I am relieved to find,
this was all just a nightmare.
24 (Haiku)
Twenty four hours
Twenty four poems written
Renewed with each one
Intimacy (Haiku)
Holding hands with you
Intimate despite the stares
Fingers, intertwined
Lost and found
Lose yourself in the magic that YOU are.
We all walk the same road, uniquely, and made it thus far.
Without variety, we would be of no use.
Grab a mirror, sit down, to yourself, re-introduce.
24 hours of sanity, or lack there of.
Finding yourself drunk off the madness,
falling with whole heart, yourself, in the purest love.
Wind chimes
Eyes closed,
lucid with the flirting sound off wind chimes.
Climbing our spirit’s lattice,
weaving healing from the inside.
Wind engaged, teasing,
encouraging between the two, a light fandango.
Sweet rhythm’s, each one conduit,
Brings with each melodious note, new breath rushing through it.
Songs of the angels,
Lullaby our ears.
Bring about joyous resonance,
releasing with its presence, blessed tears.
Dementia’s mind
Locked inside a strangers mind,
they wait.
In search of treasured memories,
they wait.
Speaking to loved ones they no longer recognize,
they wait.
Playing a lone game of seek and find,
they wait.
Scared the second control loses grip,
they wait.
Masking forgotten words with clever tricks,
they wait.
For someone to hold a mirror up,
they wait.
To accept themselves as never to be the same,
they wait.
The answer to the question, why me?
they wait.
Astray
Fierce intentions,
misguided by ones love.
Refuse to give sight,
To what has never begun.