While the twilight turns to night, beneath the moon in softest light, where silent stars, sentries keep, our whispered prayers as we sleep. Dream to dream on stepping stones, we walk a journey; great unknowns. Where do we go? We can only guess, for it lasts but one […]



In depths of desire, an idyllic ocean of balmy ink sweetly lingered on the tip of a pen waiting to write a kiss upon her ripe crimson lips. Foreplay of simile and metaphor, glided passionately upon parchment — and eloquently, stroke by stroke, with delicate verse upon verse, […]



Ego that can suck blood out of a dead turnip — distorted strength, entitlement out of proportion, malignant tumor — barbed-wire growth just under the soul, trespassing in ashes of their own conceit deftly, deceptions adept at side- stepping morality, their teeth gnash — edges honed upon innocent […]



I launched it out there, giving it to the wind — a haphazard pulsing mass of crimson with purest of intentions, journeying on hope and boundless dreams, ricocheting between stars and skimming a silvered moon. We parted, never to meet again — my heart scattered like thrown rice, […]


A Different Perspective

When others are always looking up, I find unexplored worlds by looking down. When others seek to acquire more than they already have, I look inward with gratitude at what I’ve always had. When others speak out loud, I find comfort within my own silence. When others reach […]


The Beginning

Before we are born, we are pure energy. We are more than a random cosmic accident and casual cohesion of particles. Each one of us has a unique fingerprint, yet we are all of the same body of the Universe and our uniqueness is what gives value to […]


Ocean And Air

The air caressed the ocean’s skin for it loved the ocean — because in it, was its own reflection. It could not control its love as they tossed and turned in a passionate display of rolling waves, waning, rippling… until the waters calmed. © Roxi St. Clair



Love is like wine — As we drink this intoxicating spirit, our utopia does not come from the grape, but rather from the suffering toil of the root and imminent growth of the vine. © Roxi St. Clair


Without Wings

Last night, I dreamt a poem of places so far away — enchanted by the rhymes and the vibration of each verb where I could fly without my wings — but I had no pen under my pillow to write of these adventures — by the time dawn […]



Innocent tree — the thunder clapped with indifferent lightning leaving scorched trunk in its wake begging for rainfall and morning dawn now sprouts life from the blackened wood. © Roxi St. Clair


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