Tag Archive: poem


Rewrite

Mind wanders into the hollow escapades of the past.
As words stumble, crumble, splattering in figments onto the parchment.
Scattered, scrambling together to form a coherent set of lines.
Freeze paned, lead hovers ready to cross, scratch out.
Pink embraces paper as the words scream out before they vanish, like they never lived.
A sense of calm fills the air as gray slowly dances across the white horizon.
Words speak as they come alive, past erased but not forgotten.
Lessons learned, rewrite complete.

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Willow

Willow

One
lonely
tree swaying
flowing, creaking
groaning with every
strong brush of wind and rain.
Evermore enduring the
test of strength and skills that Mother
Nature throws like the howling winds.
Yet the tree still stands strong as ever,
never giving into pressure.
Standing tall, strong and graceful,
living life all the while
with dignity,hope
and cherishing,
forever
willows
life.

Copyright Corbie Sinclair 2012

The Stilled Girl

The Stilled Girl

A single drop of peach splashes and forms.
An elegant arrangement trapped on canvas,
a pose of grace captured in the lift of her hand.
Pointed toes searching for destination, as fine hairs dance across the fabric.
A tightly wound bun is in alignment with the perfection of her face.
Unblemished, masked behind rosy red lips and blushed cheeks.
The tuft of material, effortless placed, pink surrounds her middle, caught in a swaying motion.
A pallet of colors obediently stay at attention, as the background forms.
Mirrors create a multitude of similar scenes, as a golden bar flashes in the early sun.
Sweat beads and threatens to erase, as a fine handkerchief comes to aid.
A flick of the wrist adds vibrancy to the scene, where only the strong colors continue their dance.
A steady hand forms the masterpiece of perfection,as it drifts along the the weaved story.
Almost to the end, he gazes at the girl.
With a swipe he adds texture, the finale to the performance.
In the corner a tattoo of his name, a remembrance.
So, many years later, a stranger can watch the performance of a lifetime.

Copyright Corbie Sinclair 2012

Iced Heart

Iced Heart

Water streams to the ground, unevenly.
As icicles drip from the gentle warming of her heart.
Where once it was cold and beat for none.
Now it awakens from a deep slumber.
As stirring emotions shake it awake.
A simple touch was all that was needed.
To break a spell that she had thought impossible.
She was told of what was to happen,
but brushed it away like a nuisance.
A still picture of pure beauty,
her wavy, flowing mane caught in movement.
A simple smile, hides behind ice as she appears blissful.
A single Rose as red as a candy apple is graceful held in her small hands.
He touches her face softly, afraid that touching would break her.
His memories of brushing touches, smiles and shared laughter, ring through his head.
He steps away slowly as tears fill his eyes.
Just as he turns away he hears it.
Drip,drip,drip,drip.
Not knowing what to say he watches in amazement as the ice melts away.
First the numbness disappears from her legs and slowly creeps up the rest of her body.
Until at last she’s just a wet mess.
She tests out her shaky legs and looks at him.
He does not waste a moment and sweeps her up in his enveloping way.
She weeps into his shoulder “I should have listened, followed my heart to you”.
He whispered softly “All that matters is that you found your way back”.
In that moment, their love pronounced right and true, they promise to never part.
Her heart, which once was frozen, was thawed by her love for him.
He carries her away to freedom as the sun fades below the horizon.

Copyright Corbie Sinclair 2012

Music

Music

When cesspools of anger blister at your center and pits of sorrow threaten to engulf your being.
When indifference climbs within and excitement shakes you from head to toe.
What is there to soothe your restless soul?
Drifting upon the air, waves of rhythm and melody enter your ears.
Warm your heart, dry the cesspits that bubble deep.
Bathe your overheated engine in the gentle cascading of notes.
When sorrow darkens the brightest of days, let calming voices fill your heart with a rush of joy.
When indifference claims the day,
live and breathe in the artistry of the music industry.
When enthusiasm writhes and wishes to escape, let it out and share with the world your music.
Feel the beat, moving freely with passion just as if no one was watching.
Like a Nightingale, sing with your beautifully unique voice, as if no one else is listening.
Live life through the eyes of music, if only just for a moment.

Copyright Corbie Sinclair 2011

This is my One Shot Wednesday poem for this week. Its a free verse poem that i chose to do this week based upon my love of music. Please join me in reading and commenting on other wonderfully artistic poets at, http://www.onestoppoetry.com. Happy anniversary One Stop Poetry. I am so fortunate to be able to celebrate with you all on this day. Thank you Leslie, Pete, Brian, Adam, Jessica, Claudia, Gay and Chris for all that you have done through the year. I have learned so much and had a great time with you all. It is with your love and dedication that One Stop is what it is today. Thank you very much.

Music of Love

Music of Love

Surfing the waves of a captured heart.
Beat, beat, hear it thrum like a drum.
It weaves and dodges strange tunes.
It waits for a whistle.
A journey to you.
Feel excitement,
pain and joy.
Love of,
music.

Copyright Corbie Sinclair 2011

My One Shot Wednesday poem. I’ve got music on the brain as I wrote this Nonet. Please visit the other talented poets at http://www.onestoppoetry.com starting at 5pm EST time.

Raven

Raven
Raven who stole the light from grandfathers grasp, you could have asked, but instead you chose to trick us.
Corvo, in a fairy tale stricken dead upon an ivory atone, a story of a brothers love and of perils vast that he must face.
Rave, seven in all, cursed to bird form, on the day their sister was born.
Tales of woe, heartache and death plague this glossy onyx bird of flight.

Hrafi, looking into your eyes, see intellegence peeking through.
Korp, are we mistaken about your true identity?
Corbeau, you proudly watched over Dieties?
Raaf, is it true you can lead men to deer?
Corbie, you have a dark history.
Cuervo, your history also light.
Raven you are a mystery.

Copyright Corbie Sinclair 2011

This is my entry for One Shot Wednesday. It’s a poem about the Raven. There are three separate stories in the beginning and each phrase that starts with Raven is a translation in another language. Please join me in reading some wonderful works from fantastic writers at: http://www.onestoppoetry.com. One Shot Wednesday starts at 5pm EST.

Wild Rose

Wild Rose

Thorns,
first prick,
nipping me.
As my finger,
trails along roughness.
Emerald toughness hides,
sweet sap coursing through the stem.
A single solitary bloom,
awakens a stirring emotion.
Memories sweep accross my timeless mind.
Candy apple red petals carefully,
draped along a glossy wooden floor.
Anniversary, shared delight.
Stealing kisses through the night.
Memories lost in sight.
As like a petal,
you fade away,
Slowly and
gently,
forever.

Copyright Corbie Sinclair 2011

This is a double Etheree. It goes as follows: 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1
Syllables. Give it a try! It is great fun. This is my entry for One Shot Wednesday. Please visit the other wonderful poets at http://www.onestoppoetry.com

Bark

Bark

Green creeps down and around a rough hide.
Withstanding the harshest of storms.
Protecting from birds of night.
Keeper of the ages.
Love captured by hearts.
Lifeblood kept safe,
forever,
It is
bark.
Copyright Corbie Sinclair 2011

This is my entry for one shot this week. It is a poem I completed in 10 minutes at a seminar. We were asked to choose an item from the bag and I chose a piece of bark with a little moss on it. Please read some other phenomenal works at http://www.onestoppoetry.com

Breeze

Breeze
A Lark lost in song
Soft whispers dance along.
And this is where the horses belong.

Crowds cheering.
Friend and foe appearing.
A loss fearing.

Racing towards the finish line.
Big Red could have taken his time.
But he looked so fine.

Lengths and strides ahead.
No one could have raced in his stead.
And leave the rest feeling dread.

No gap to close, he’s long gone.
The rest were just a pawn.
As he passes the finish line with a yawn.

A champion of all.
His feat not small.
And the rest is for history to recall.

Copyright Corbie Sinclair 2011

My latest contribution to One Shot Wednesday. Come join us starting every Tuesday at 5pm EST at a place where poets play all day :): http://www.onestoppoetry.com.

This poem is dedicated to the great race horse Secretariat.

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