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Dawn Kilby Poem
The traditional Cinquain.
A poem, I'm sure, everyone can relate to.
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Deceit
Is like a knife
Opening up your heart
And causing it to hemorrhage
Always.
Deceit
Can scar your soul
Leaving you defenseless
Against a world full of vicious
Tyrants.
Deceit
Is a sick joke
That is played upon you
And you never see it coming
Ever.
Deceit
Will drive you mad
And make you scream in pain
You will never trust anyone
Again.
Dawn D. Kilby
Copyright ©2008 Dawn D. Kilby
Copyright © Dawn Kilby | Year Posted 2008
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Dawn Kilby Poem
Your kiss is so hot
Instantly scorching my lips
And tauntingly fiery
Dawn Kilby
Copyright ©2008 Dawn Kilby
Copyright © Dawn Kilby | Year Posted 2008
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Dawn Kilby Poem
THIS IS THE TRADITIONAL CINQUAIN WAY OF WRITING.
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Hateful
You are to me
Your abuse is blazing
And I'm tired of your hell raising
Please stop!
Spiteful
Are the cruel words
That you inflict on me
Why won't you ever let me be?
Please quit!
Worthless
I am to you
You love to tell me that
While in the middle of combat
Stop it!
I'm gone
And no longer
Will I let you hurt me
With a whole-hearted guarantee
Goodbye!
Dawn D. Kilby
Copyright ©2008 Dawn D. Kilby
Copyright © Dawn Kilby | Year Posted 2008
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Dawn Kilby Poem
Dedication to my first and last love, Lance Ewens, 1979-2006
She's remembering
The day that she fell for him
It was in Autumn
When she first transfixed her eyes
Upon the most gorgeous face
That she'd ever seen
He smiled at her with a charm
That glistened so bright
It melted her heart like snow
They became friends instantly
Their friendship would grow
And thus, blossom into love
They spent every day
With each other mirthfully
Until that last fateful night
A bitter, rough wind
Stole her one true love away
Her heart always breaks
When she holds the ace of hearts
It remains a painful token
Of the love that she once had
Dawn Kilby
Copyright ©2008 Dawn Kilby
Copyright © Dawn Kilby | Year Posted 2008
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Dawn Kilby Poem
While you're touching my face so softly,
My eyes are shut and I can see,
Psychedelic butterflies,
With shades of violet,
And a reddish blue.
The colors gleam,
To the strokes
Of your
Hand.
While you're brushing my hair so gently,
I feel a warmth rush through my veins.
My head gets woozy and light,
And my pulse gets higher!
It's pure ecstasy,
And I ignite,
Like a hot,
Flaming
Fire!
Dawn D. Kilby
Copyright ©2008 Dawn D. Kilby
Copyright © Dawn Kilby | Year Posted 2008
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Dawn Kilby Poem
I CALL THIS THE PYRAMID OF LIFE AND THE BIRD'S EYE VIEW OF IT.
A
single,
little bird,
is flying high
above a rainbow.
Even though it is small,
it believes that everything
can forever be accomplished.
No matter how hard the struggle,
it will work hard to succeed in it's life.
Whatever comes it's way, it will be true
to it's heart...and with the Lord on it's side,
the bird will be happy. Even if the bird does'nt
achieve it's goals, it will be satisfied with the life
that it has. Life is what the little bird will make of it.
The moral of this story is...no matter what life throws
your way...be joyous with what you have and cherish it.
Live life to the fullest, as if it may be the last day on earth.
Dawn D. Kilby
Copyright ©2008 Dawn D. Kilby
Copyright © Dawn Kilby | Year Posted 2008
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Dawn Kilby Poem
This was written for Halloween :P
A silent, roaming apparition
Was the wife of a physician
While away on a mission
He married a magician
Without permission
His volition
Sliced open
His wife's
Heart.
The wife never loved another man
Poor, broken-hearted Ruby Anne
She died one day in Cheyenne
Now, everyday, you can
See where it began
Ruby Bouman's
Spirit will
Never
Die.
Dawn D. Kilby
Copyright ©2008 Dawn D. Kilby
Copyright © Dawn Kilby | Year Posted 2008
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Dawn Kilby Poem
A sick, bleeding heart
Sings a song of loneliness
It lives for true love
And is searching everywhere
For the one who will mend it
A sore, vengeful heart
Longs for a moment of peace
The heart is maddened
And is straining to repair
It's cold, endless suffering
Dawn Kilby
Copyright ©2008 Dawn Kilby
Copyright © Dawn Kilby | Year Posted 2008
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Dawn Kilby Poem
Another one for Halloween :P
I'm passing by the old, scary house
That the eighty year old woman
Resides in with her black cat
Some thought she was a witch
When she would cast spells
With her black cat
Beside her
All the
Time.
One night, she came knocking on my door
Carrying bright red, tasty apples
She offered me one to eat
When I ate one, I died
The apples were full
Of blue poison;
She's a witch
After
All.
Dawn D. Kilby
Copyright ©2008 Dawn D. Kilby
Copyright © Dawn Kilby | Year Posted 2008
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Dawn Kilby Poem
Love's gift is sweet,
between a pair of souls,
that connect as one. It cannot
be broken once the attraction has
begun. The fire sparks and the flames
soar high into the night. The air is crisp
and tight. The lovers join together and
embrace each other with an honest
dedication. Their minds race to
love's melodious celebration.
The rhythm is quite swift,
to love's sweet gift.
Dawn Kilby
Copyright ©2008 Dawn Kilby
Copyright © Dawn Kilby | Year Posted 2008
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