Squyres Poems | Examples

Wish Collector

WISH COLLECTOR

To the collector of wishes
I wish you well
Perhaps you’ve lost mine
within your pail

To the collector of wishes
Please recheck
Perhaps its still there
Within its depths

To the collector of wishes
My hopes are slim
Perhaps some new stars
Are much too dim

To the collector of wishes
I’ll wish anew
Perhaps maybe this time
It won’t go askew

To the collector of wishes
I wish you well
Perhaps this new wish
Will find your pail 

© Debra Squyres 10/02/2019

Traversing the Imagination

Traversing the Imagination 

Maybe I’ll drift to mindless places
Where wishes and wants 
Have lost all traces
Traversing the heavens
To unknown destinations
Ahh, yes.. this makes me smile. 

Maybe I’ll drift to unidentifiable places
Where all of imagination 
Is stored in databases
Traversing new story lines
Playing let’s pretend
Ahh, yes... this makes me smile.

Maybe I’ll write about these places
To make others smile
as fun embraces
Traversing abstract lines
on kaleidoscopic worlds
Ohh, yes… this makes me smile. 
  
Copy-write@ Debra Squyres 09/29/2019
All rights reserved

Familiar Faces - Qd

Familiar Faces

Awakening gently with a sigh 
of a dream remembered vividly
While to this dream I must say goodbye
Today tops most in its infancy

While traversing dreams to lands afar
and seeing things we’ve not seen before
There’s always a wish that reaches stars
That we’ll see loved ones that we adore

Loved one’s faces in dreamy places

Copywrite@ Debra Squyres 09/29/2019
All rights reserved

Living Tapestry

Living Tapestry

It seems I’ve always searched for perch amid the shifting sand
Past memories, mixing with new ones, blending to give me a hand

On a hot summer night life began as a bundle of joy to behold
Though joy, it seems, would slip and slide as my journey began to unfold

Unseen plates beneath my feet would move at inopportune times
The decisions made, plundering forward, I remember now in aged decline

Daily demands in hourglass time, life choices, from unforgiving sand
With finding the balance, of wrong and right, not always going as planned

My journey, a tapestry of colorful sand, might for some be a sight to behold 
But the blessings I see, scattered within, are worth more than can ever be told.

Copywrite@ Debra Squyres 09/29/2019
All rights reserved

Counterbalancing Self

Counterbalancing Self


I found her in absent withdrawal
A study of confusion and nerves
Countermanding the calm exterior
Presented to face the day

Hand applied radiance 
Giving her face a glow
While the eyes struggled
To balance minds overflow

I heard her in a sing song voice
greeting others beginning their day
Years of tutelage shoving forward
Presented to face the day

The rhythm a mishmash
Of blues and skipped beats
While feet moved ever forward
Sturdy, ever denying defeat.

I saw her in bits and pieces
When I, myself, had hit a wall
Mirrored glances chased my vision
Presented to face the day

I watched her stumble
Yet never quite fall
And wished for her balance
So I, too, could stand tall
 
Copywrite@ Debra Squyres
All rights reserved

Waters Deep

Waters Deep

Come swim with me in waters deep,
With swish of tail and sparkling scale,
Through the caves of wishing wells
Where dreamers dream in rich detail

Below the waters breaking waves
We’ll ride the tides to nether lands
Down beneath the breathing clans
To depths that quicken hearts demand

Then rest with me on rocky shores
As we bask in rays of ecstasy
Above the waters, definitely,
We’ll find our true heart’s destiny

 
© Debra Squyres 09/27/19

I'Ve Never Been

I’ve Never Been

I’ve never been where they’ve been
Amid the rubble and splintered wood
Dripping tears on rain sodden clothes
Staring at destruction where home once stood

I’ve never been where they’ve been
Shivering with fear as rockets explode
Streaming tears from shock filled eyes
As yesterday’s peacefulness so loudly erodes

I’ve never been where they’ve been
Watching water rising from the attic door
Fearful tears heard only in the heavens
Faith drifting on hope as the soul implores 

I’ve never been where many have been
Though empathy stretches heart’s seams
Tears, the silent spinning of a mournful tale
My prayers rise, with others, on heartfelt wings 

© Debra Squyres 0/27/19

For Poetry Contest: Pick a Line any line

I’ve chosen:
“I’ve never been where they’ve been” 
From Richard Lamoureux poem “Broken People”

And a line from a favorite of mine:

“the silent spinning of a mournful tale”
From my poem “Caged Silence" written in 2012

Silent Steps

A new day begins
on silent steps
that no longer wish
for an awakening.
The soul’s bleedings
of yesteryears
slipping past the lids
of closure
that have never
really healed.  

Hushed glimmers
of light tiptoeing
into a room
stripping the visions
of nightly dreams
while beginning anew
the reflections
of realities
harsh awakening.

Silent steps
of morning light
strolling on
the still closed lids
of a new day
dispersing the veil
between dreams
and waking hours
as another tear
spots the covering
of pillowed release.  
 

© Debra Squyres 9/18/17

Time Blinks

A choreographed dance of heart and deed
fulfills the spirit that denounces greed.

Why, now, should there still be hunger
when all around there’s food to plunder?
Silos sleep, filled to the brim with grain
for prices elevated to obtain more gain.

Why, now, should our children weep
from hunger pains that chases sleep? 
Man sneers at over indulgent greed
when there are empty mouths to feed.

Time blinks in favor of a heart that’s giving
and shares the joy of their own thanksgiving. 

© Debra Squyres 01/24/16

Bottled Bird Pops the Cork

This jazz pallete weeps with greed 
for the return of some bebop 
and crooning bleeds.
Neon flagships that lit the night
with saxophones 
and trumpets bright.
This bird bottled in country twang
is popping the cork
for some bluesy swang.
Spinning the vinyl under needled arm
baritones ripple 
as nerves are darned.
Shattered glass begins to mend
as the mellow tones
declare the end.
Grooves of doo-wop will pep the step
when all that’s encumbered
has been swept.
Dat dootin doo-dat is where it’s at
as to these artists
I tip my hat.
Taking a dip in the oldie’s spring
lessens the rhythm
of living stings.
 
© Debra Squyres 01/24/16

Breathe In Your Due

Notes in play may have you dancing up the staircase, gay.
Exhaling breaths of fascination with sighs along the way.
A sharp and minor taking turns now tripping up the scale
as your embrace upon her form leaves stars now shining pale.

Each twirl, each swirl, and upswept whirl a cosmic revolution
for in your arms your heart has found a brand new resolution.
That wayward leaf that once felt old now spins with joy anew.
This night has found the gold in you that’s burnished but for few. 

Each breath inhaled finds gems exhaled that sparkle through the night.
Gold hewn words that need not question this gift that feels so right.
Breathe in the magic, which is this night, as the moon slides from your view.
Examine not but what you feel and savor, for you, what’s come due. 

© Debra Squyres - 1/11/16


My reply to Mystic Rose’s poem “Breathe”
and for his contest to write a dance to go with his. 
Quatrain… I hope !!  It’s meant to be.

Wool Tanka

gathering wool
for winter’s spinning---
dyes bleeding
the remembered skeins
of my yesteryears

© Debra Squyres - 01/11/16

Morning's Pallet

Who then, but I, should benefit
from the awakening moments
of revelations unfolding?
Continuations of meditative wandering,
in dreamscapes certain tutelage, 
charges the morning air
with marked anticipation…
As I, … Yes, I
am but a puddle of wanting
to experience, to clarify, 
this need for something more.

As morning’s grey sky
becomes a canvas to paint my day
my diligence of expectations
is elevated four score.
For what is lain on today’s table
seems to offer me much more…
As I, ….. Yes, I
am but a puddle of wanting
to accentuate the colors
of the pallet beyond my door.

© Debra Squyres - 01/04/16


Why worthy?  None more so than others on the soup that we are blessed to read. 
This is simply one of my personal favorites and it still speaks to my 
spirit today.  I think each day should be entered with expectations and we hold the brush to paint our day.

Shavings and Dust

Little by little
others whittle
until there’s nothing more
while the shavings,
feeling the pain 
of each slice,
still believes 
that Love
will restore…

Slice by slice
others cut and dice
unwilling to make amends
while the dust
still believes
a glued amen
of Love
will eventually
mend…

© Debra Squyres

Long Pier

the pier ghostly
as the fog rolls in---
weighing anchors
was it not here
we met the first time?

heavy mists
of memories
making steps---
timbers creak
yet, I find you not

this dampness
that rolls from my eyes---
tangible streaks
that exhale
the unforgettable you

© Debra Squyres 
    Tanka Trio 1/10/16

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