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Ashley Morrissey Poem
Perfection's never something,
You can capture oh so well.
But her beauty burned like gazing,
At the fires that burn in Hell.
And people they would beg of her,
"Let me capture you in photograph."
But with beauty that was so obscure,
She'd always turn and laugh.
She woke up every morning,
But this was a different one.
Called an artist that was yearning,
"We can do this just for fun."
She stained her lips with rose.
Painted her cheeks in the fairest rouge.
Slipped ballet flats upon her toes.
And in her sundress she found refuge.
The amateur had no say,
She had planned the perfect spot.
She whispered, "I'll lead the way."
A small price to pay to get the perfect shot.
Her movements were so delicate,
It's as if they were devised.
She used a subtle hand wave to indicate,
That they had finally arrived.
You would think you'd see a castle,
Or maybe a field of green.
But this enviroment was quite the hassle,
Maybe her sense of taste wasn't keen.
She thrusted weeds away,
Steering clear of twigs and rocks.
The warm wind made her sundress sway,
And softly tousled her gold locks.
Upon a bridge she advanced,
The planks began to creak.
The water below her danced,
And sunset began to peak.
She lifted her legs with elegance,
And supported herself with a beam.
The photographer shuttered in benevolence,
But followed along with this dangerous scheme.
It's as if the camera was under a spell;
As beneath the bridge, waves violentally lashed.
She threw her arms out and willingly fell,
As the light grew bright and flashed.
The tides pulled tight around her.
They made her twirl and spin.
And the camera man swore,
she smiled as they tugged her in.
Perfection's not that fluent.
Not something you can capture oh so well.
But now we have a picture here to prove it,
As the waves dragged her to Hell.
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Copyright © Ashley Morrissey | Year Posted 2010
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Details |
Ashley Morrissey Poem
Plans, morals, perpetual dreams
A whisper in your ear and your heart screams
Eyes that gaze deep
Skin, white as a sheep
I'm forseeing the fall, but I might take the leap
He's the one across the room
The late party guest that couldn't come too soon
He's the one in the coffee shop, sipping some black
A swift runner in the park your eyes try to track
He's the guitar he's playing, the music too
He's the fairytale you read that never came true
Smile, eyes, daring grin
A touch that gets under your skin
Lips that invite
Head like a kite
I would take him home, and I think that I might
He's the one eyeing your chest
The impatient bed-mate that won't let you rest
He's the crawl in your skin
The roofie that made your head spin
He's the one who invented the mind game
The alarm clock at sunrise who forgot your name
A smirk that turns to gritting teeth
A mask concealed underneath
Biting nails
Charm that bails
Calling his next move is like calling heads or tails
He's the one with roses at your door
The commitment he made but isn't sure
He's all you thought you wanted
The harsh denial of bi-polar confronted
He's a sip of sweet tea with a lemon on the side
Not a fairy tale, but a tale of a modern day Jekyll and Hyde
Copyright © Ashley Morrissey | Year Posted 2010
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Details |
Ashley Morrissey Poem
Given a week to do as I please,
I'd climb every tree and sway with the leaves.
The grass would become my playground.
I'd hide in the bushes to never be found.
The flowers would be my best friends,
And I'd gaze at the sun until time ends.
I'd form a choir with the fowl,
Perch steadily with an owl.
Let the blue skies fill my eyes,
And paint my face in mud as a disguise.
But I fear not 7 days would not suffice;
For, only a fool could not love this.
As the night sky would turn black,
I'd lay myself upon a hay stack.
Just dreaming of this week,
To awake with 6 more days to thrill seek.
Copyright © Ashley Morrissey | Year Posted 2010
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